The Clock is Ticking

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Growing up in a large family, with five annoying, yet loving siblings, I always wanted the same for my future children. I wanted them to always have a friend to go to, someone who would always be there for them, like I did. I couldn’t wait to meet the man of my dreams, have my fairytale wedding, and have lots and lots of babies! Okay, so maybe not that many babies, that would just be ridiculous, but at least two or three. Enough to make my family feel complete.

Then, at what i thought was the young age of 38, I married the man of my dreams. Literally, I had dreamed about this stud-muffin every night! Lucky for me, he was also raised in a big family and wanted at least three kids. We also both agreed that the sooner we got started the better. We immediately got to work, making babies of course...or at least we tried.

The weeks flew by, which turned into months. We couldn’t understand what was wrong. I was not even 40 yet, and mother nature knows I still had my period. So, what was the problem? My husband finally convinced me to see my OB GYN, which I had been avoiding like the plague. I was so afraid of what she was going to tell me. I would rather stay in denial, it’s nice here. My husband, being a persuasive, evil genius, reminded me that the sooner we figured out the problem, the sooner we could start having babies. So, there I was sitting in the waiting room, crossing my fingers, toes, and legs. The latter being that I really needed to use the restroom!

After what felt like hours, I was finally called back to the examination room. I lied back and straddled up. Ladies, you know what I am talking about! The exam went by relatively quick, considering my nervous state. The doctor was quiet, barely speaking to me at all. I am still trying to decide if it made things less or more awkward, having someone search silently through you. Well, in either case, she was finished. I sat quietly, hoping to hear I would be popping out babies in no time. Not wanting to flood her with my salty tears, I listened to what she had to say.

So the doctor claimed I was as healthy as a horse, but then proceeded to tell me that there was something else that may be hindering my chances of getting pregnant, and having my babies... My age. Excuse me? I felt like I had been sucker-punched right in the gut. I was not even forty yet! How dare she tell me that because I am “older” I may not be able to get pregnant, and if I do somehow miraculously conceive, that my baby may have serious birth defects. I was outraged and insulted. I did not even have one gray hair on my head yet! Well, I stormed out of there vowing to myself, that I was going to do whatever it took to prove her wrong.

The next few months were spent researching and testing out different tips and tricks to getting pregnant, after you were already a “mature” adult. I did everything. I changed my eating habits. I tried some fancy exercise, called yoga. I took prenatal vitamins. I even convinced my husband to switch it up in the bedroom! Apparently, that can help. But, mostly I  prayed. I prayed that some power greater than myself, would understand how badly I needed this. How I needed to be a mother. How I needed to experience what it felt like to create a life, to create a family. I did not stop at praying either. I also believed I would get pregnant. I knew in my heart that one day my husband and I would have beautiful babies of our own. I was going to stay positive no matter what.

Finally, it happened, a missed period. I had never been so happy about missing a period in my life! I called that evil lady of a doctor and made an appointment immediately. I could not stand the suspense, but I did not trust a store bought test either. This was too important to take a chance on a false positive. Waiting for my appointment was nerve-wracking. The next two days felt like they were never-ending. But, finally, it was time. I was going to find out if I was finally going to be a mother.

So, there I was, sitting in the examination room once again, holding my husband’s hand, squeezing it actually, waiting for the results of my test. The doctor came back in wearing a look of surprise, a good surprise from what I could tell. This seemed promising. After a few seconds of just looking at us in awe, she finally told us that the test came back positive and offered to do an ultrasound to see if she could see anything. After a quiet chuckle to herself she exclaimed, “Well I hope you still want to have a big family...because you are having triplets!” Oh my…

To be Continued...


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By Lauren DiCamillo of Expecting Parents Alliance of America

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