I received a very thoughtful and caring comment today on my announcement that we're trying for a baby, in which long-time reader Andrea (hello, Andrea!) felt compelled to warn me (and my readers) about the chances, statistically speaking, of a woman over 40 getting pregnant without outside intervention. I don't know what Andrea's background is in this area, but clearly she felt very strongly that she had a message to share, and I do appreciate that she wanted to take the time to warn me.
Let me start by saying that I realize that Andrea, and perhaps other readers, may be concerned about me trying to have a baby at my age, and that you genuinely want to be helpful. So I thank you for your good intentions, I truly do; it's nice to have people be concerned.
Having said that, the comment, as kindly meant as it obviously was, stirred up some feelings that I also now feel compelled to share. Mainly because I don't want to spend the next year (or however long we decide to try for the baby), having to be reminded of the fertility statistics and how grim they generally are for women my age in this situation. So let me get this out in the open, hopefully just this once, and then we can all move on:
I am aware of the statistics. Seriously. I've read it all. I don't need to be reminded.
And you know what? I don't care about them. Seriously. Because for every report, every article and every so-called expert that says it's virtually impossible, there is a woman out there getting pregnant anyway. And without medical intervention (not that there is anything wrong with interventions for those who want it and who can afford to pursue it -- we just aren't going down that road). The chances may not be huge for us, but a chance is a chance is a chance. And just maybe, WE are going to be one of those lucky couples who gets that chance. All we need is one good egg. ONE. And I feel it's premature for anyone to speculate on how good my eggs might be. Everyone is different. My eggs might be a little dusty from sitting on the shelf for so long, but that doesn't mean there isn't ONE in there, just quietly tapping its toes and waiting for the magic to happen.
I happen to believe in magic. In miracles. And in the power of possibility. Would I be here -- in Paris and having met the love of my life at 46 -- if I didn't?
I am someone who prefers to go through my life focusing on what is possible -- not on what is supposedly impossible. I believe I can be the exception to the rule. Not that I WILL be, but that I CAN be; please notice that there is a difference there. I believe that we get what we focus on, so if we focus on the negatives then guess what happens? Yep... buggered every time. Yet if we can stay focused on the positive aspects of a situation, and on what is possible for us, then we increase our chances of creating or attracting what we want. Call it a miracle if you like.
Consequently, as Georges and I go down this new path in our life together, we're choosing to be positive about it. We know there are potential pitfalls -- we are neither blind nor unrealistic -- but really, what good does it do for us to dwell on them? Is that really helpful? Will it help us make a baby? Will it help us sleep better at night while we're trying? I think not. We know that whatever is going to happen is going to happen in the end, and either way we will still be us, we will still be in love, and still have our life together with his three great kids. And maybe, just maybe, we will be blessed with a fourth to round things out and give us many more happy times and sleepless nights (and I'll have one person in the house I can speak to without a translator).
What I don't want is for this blog to turn into some depressing fertility saga (or even a "mommy blog", for that matter). And you know what? For what it's worth, I think that if something is possible for someone else, then it's JUST as possible for me. Why wouldn't it be? No doctor has told me, personally, that I can't get pregnant, and until someone does, then the possibility exists. And that's good enough for me as a "statistic".
Besides... I've defied the odds before, haven't I? So what's one more time?
