Old Eggs, New Baby

Here I am, at almost 39 years old, with old eggs. The doctor has told me this. I know I am getting old, therefore, the eggs must be too, right? I really don't need a doctor to tell me this. So, my husband and I decide that I am going to kick my birth control pill habit and we are going to explore having sex for procreation purposes, not just for the whooping good time it produces.

I go off the pill in late October '07. We have sex. We have sex. We have sex. We have sex. We have sex. We have sex. We have sex. We have sex. We have sex. We have sex. Finally, I can take no more. I am tired. We have 2 other kids, a 14 year old and a 3 year old, and while they are easy, they still require the basics, like food and clean clothes. I am tired.

Friends mention to me that I should rub some kind of cream on me so that I have a better chance of getting pregnant. Maybe I will slaughter a chicken and go the voodoo route. Maybe not. That damn chicken juice is a pain to get off the countertops, let alone all of the blood and feathers. Others mention that maybe I don't ovulate. I Google "ovulate." Seems that is good but may not be at the right amount of days to produce an egg?!? I don't know... Frustration ensues when they ask when I ovulate. I counter with, "Well, when you do you ovulate? Show me!"

Thank God, us ovulation amateurs can download a free and easy ovulation calendar. You plug in some dates and then you plug in your spouse. I began to mark days down, when we had to have sex or it was all for nothing. Well, nothing is what I got. Damn you, slimy secretions.

Many times my husband said that I have only a couple of months to get knocked up or he was pulling the plug on the whole darn deal. While I was sad, I was on track for believing that it was for the best, maybe. On Saturday mornings, I sleep til 730 and think it is the bomb. Mia can feed herself and get dressed and that potty thing is mostly taken care of. I basically have kids that can take care of themselves. Maybe not having another screaming baby would be ok. Maybe I could get used to it.

Fast forward to Mothers Day. I tell my husband that the best gift would be to be pregnant. My period is right around the corner so I am not confident.

May 13th, a day that started out much like every other day in my life. I take Max to school, Mia and I do some errands. My period is late. I am not particularly regular and am a couple of days off. I buy a pregnancy test from the Dollar Tree. For $1, maybe I can get a laugh.

Ha, Ha! The laugh is on me. The positive sign shows up before my pants are zipped. I am nearly hysterical. I call my husband. He doesn't believe me. When he breathes again, I tell him I am off to Walgreens to buy another. Surely, one test can't be accurate. I grab Mia from her chair and fly down the street, a mixture of laughing and crying. I buy the test and we race back home.

I open the box and read the instructions. I pee again and not much happens. Nothing. False alarm, maybe there are false negatives? I decide to blow off the instructions and pee on it again. So, I did. After about a second, I got my second postive. Still in a state of shock, I call my mom and yell at her to come over. She thinks I am crazy, which, at this point, I am. She agrees to bring yet another test over later that afternoon.

I get Mia down for her nap and pace the floor, calling my husband to verify that I did, in fact, call him with the news. My mom comes with the third test. I take it. I call her in. It is positive. There can be no doubt that I am pregnant! She has a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream that we promptly empty.

So, I am pregnant!