My son was 3 in 1989 when my husband and I decided to add two in the four-member child category. I say a family of four because my old grandmother was living with us at the time. (We were in our care from the age of 89 to 100 years but this is another story.)
When I did not get as planned in that first year of trying, I decided to ask OBGYN about my options. (Note that I say "me" options because my husband never participated! No one asked him to attend a date and did not test his sperm ... I decided it should be a problem with me!) She told me not to worry and gave me two recipes including clomid. Needless to say to those of you who took clomid, life bitch and you're the biggest one in my house! She did not do anything good in my position nor for the sake of pregnancy. Taking my basal body temperature every day on his head, all this made matters worse and drowned in funk.
I finally gave up through this procreation. My forensic doctor said that I could go to the fertility clinic, but that would cost money we did not have. Frankly, my hands are now four years old and I am 94 years old! I stopped everything and lived my life simply with what might have been while taking care of my childhood friends sometimes. My husband's parents often asked when we would give our son a brother or sister until one day. I picked up and told them that there were no other brothers on the way and stop asking! (I think this is the polite version of my reply.)
Fast forward to 1995 when you spend your vacation in Las Vegas / California / Grand Canyon with my friends, friends and son. My husband and I rented a car and separated from our main group to visit California and started to get sick. It was very difficult and miserable for me to find a clinic to give me something, anything, so that I could finish our journey. My husband insisted that I should be pregnant. He and my husband soon went to the nearest drug store to buy a pregnancy test. (A rose, some chocolate and blueberry cookies ...) It has been a long time since I took the pregnancy test at home, and certainly I was not pregnant, it was all preparing for food! I paid my son to read the box while I went into the bathroom to look at the stick. When I came out wondering what I was supposed to look for (there is no easy mark + or set the results as they are now) my son looked at the test and then fell out of bed dramatically, like a teenager just realized that his girlfriend was pregnant! "You are pregnant, Mom!" He shouted. Then, "You did not know" !! ?? Worried that his father had fucked while in the same room on our vacation. I was in shock and my husband was arrogant and could not even think about how this happened in the world.
We welcomed our daughter in 1996, less than 10 years less than 10 years between two children. There are no abortions or stillbirths, but the monthly (or bi-monthly or quarterly) monthly evidence that I failed to provide a brother to our son has dwindled slowly while giving myself up to the care of our family of five (my grandmother died in 1999).
After my daughter was born, I felt connected to those who could not have children at all or had secondary infertility. That's why I think volunteering (after a medical examination and discussion) as an alternative to pregnancy for our friends in Florida (who struggled to get their first and wanted their brothers) was not a shock for my husband. We both know how he felt. A long short story, I managed to be a substitute twice and changed my life forever. From secondary infertility survivors to pregnant women to working with a third-party lawyer to an agency owner to a consultant, I have been able to touch many lives and share my story with hundreds of parents and intended destination guides over the last 20 years.
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