Imprinting/ Copy And Go.

I've been grateful to be given the title of "mother". I remember when the doctor said, " You're never going to be able to have a baby on your own." Those words, at the time, were like daggers. I would constantly hear about someone who was pregnant. It got so bad for me that I used to actually feel anger when someone would tell me they were expecting. I would never show it. I would always put on that fake smile and jumpy for joy, but deep down I was angry. I was hurting. It took me a very long time to really think about what or why I got angry. I've had many tell me that my jealousy got the best of me. For me, it really wasn't that.

For me, it was a lost dream, a lost opportunity to feel this "crazy" amount of love for someone, another reason to prove just how un-womanly I was, and worst of all everything that "started" with me would die when I did. Usually, it's a man's job to worry about "carrying the name", right?

I guess I'm backwards there also.

It meant that I would watch my siblings have children, constantly be told that I don't know anything about parenting, and miss out. All the things I get to experience as an aunt is it. Nothing more. Please, do not misunderstand. I love my nieces and nephews, but I wanted my own. My own son or daughter to wake up to everyday. To frustrate and challenge me.

I know, I must be crazy, but I really wanted that. I had not idea what it would take from me, but I wanted it. Badly. I wasn't the only reason that children were out of the question. My husband also was "broken". We would joke to one another about it, but I knew that deep inside he was hurting also. He wanted to give me a child. He wanted to be a father. It's difficult when you don't even get the choice over what your body can and cannot do. I will say that having children certainly is not a right, but it's a privilege. It's something, I feel, we "get" to do. Let's face it, not everyone is good at it.

After 3 years of trying, we decided that it just was not going to happen for us. We tried to come to terms with it. I think eventually we did. Then, one day, my phone told me that I needed to take a test. I can't even begin to tell you how upset I was with my phone. I wish I had remembered to cancel all the reminders about testing and fertility treatments. I usually just swiped left. Today? I was feeling like I should throw my phone in the trashcan.

I ignored it. I disabled the reminders.

A couple of hours later my phone goes off with an alarm. I'm looking for my phone for what seemed like twenty minutes... just ringing away. I find it inside of our sofa. It's the same reminder that I had just canceled and disabled. "TAKE A TEST. Today IS the DAY."

I rolled my eyes. As I was about to swipe left, something came over me. "Go. Go and test." So I did.

It was the faintest of faint positives. Folks, I had never seen one of these tests in person, live, showing "positive". It was so faint, I didn't believe what I saw. So, I kept the test, told no one about it, and I waited until morning came. I took another test. It was still faint, but it was darker than the test I had taken the day before. Now, I got excited. Tears of pure joy.

The next day, I took another test and it was much darker. I was so excited I told my mother, father, and best friend. I then made an appointment to confirm it with my doctor's office.

Game on!