Playing House

What toy have you always wanted and never gotten? A daughter. Okay, I know that sounds bad because a child is not a toy. But I’ve always wanted a little girl that I could dress up and take shopping with me. They don’t allow dogs (other than seeing eye dogs) in stores. Hence, Stormy is out of the picture.

I read this yesterday in Storm's blog. Now, don't go over to her blog – she is a talented writer, warm, funny, attractive; you know, a real bitch. Wink. <--- That was suppose to be endearing, but it sounded bitchy. Crap, I hope it doesn't sound that bad. Anyway, she got me to thinking . . . .

I have thought about writing about children, but I have been hesitant. When I was in college, I was so scared about getting pregnant. It seemed like if I did anything to screw up my life, that would have been it. Life over, thanks for playing. Then I got married. Not right after college, but in an "acceptable timeframe". Not too young, not too old, I guess. Scratches head. Maybe the problem is that there is no right time to get married. I wonder what my counselor would think about that.

Back to me. Or the subject. Sorry, no cum-soaked panties today.

Then I started married life. And I wanted to be married, me and him, for a while. You know, just do the married couple thing. And we were a good couple. We invited other childless couples over to dinner parties, we went to the theater, we got dressed up and went out, we traveled occasionally. We were grown-ups. We still are – so no smart-ass comments please.

Then people started asking, "When are you going to have kids."

When we were newly weds, it was easy to answer – "We are not ready yet. We want some time to discover each other; nurture our marriage."

After three years of marriage, the questions became more annoying. Almost hurtful. Friends were having children – and I thought they wanted someone to have "play-dates" with. Still the same answers, "We are not ready yet."

So hubbie and I had the discussion, and we decided it was time to have our first child. Having thought everything through (and not wanting to be in my third trimester in Georgia's heat), we wanted a spring baby. Date set – hubbie mounted me every third day or so, and . . . we did not get pregnant.

Monthly period. Fucked like rabbits the next month, and we did not get pregnant. Hubbie was not disappointed the first month, neither was I. After the second month, I was thinking – hey, if it takes another two months, I am going to be sweating like a pig the last month of my pregnancy. Clock is ticking.

Many more periods. A bit of depression – crying, you know. I started to hate my periods. Another missed opportunity. Sex became a chore after a few months. Then after nine months, we started getting checked out. And I learned that after six months of unprotected sex and no pregnancy, we got the medical label, "infertile couple." Nice that they blame the couple for my hubbie's problem. Or so I thought at the time.

Turns out hubbie was not shooting blanks. He only had to endure one test – and he got to cum for the test. Quite a hardship.

I was poked (and not in a sexual way), prodded, dye shot in me, all sorts of things. And my brain could not understand why I was having periods and not being fertile. I thought that was the whole point.

I am going to spare the details and the diagnosis. Let's just say that if I do get pregnant, it will either be a miracle or . . . . Well, let's stick with the miracle.

Sorry – not fun, no cum. Well, unless you count hubbie filling up the specimen jar. Just a bit of pain.

I know we can adopt – but because of other things (my infidelity), we have sort of put children off. We now need to work on us. Discovering each other again. Healing from my bonehead choices.

I don't want consoling or bemoaning. Just a lesson: sometimes we think we control everything. You know, we don't. We can point to dumb luck, karma, or God – and take your pick. I prefer to think that God knew I was not ready for kids at the time. Still not ready, I think.