Potentially Problematic Procreation Prologue

cropped-img_3198.jpgIn my early 30s, I was living in St. Pete, single, and (not) enjoying the adventures discovered through online dating. I wrote about each date and shared my ramblings with my friends to help myself cope with the overwhelming feeling that I would die alone if I had to go out with one more guy who said his fave hobby was kayaking. Seriously, every dude in Tampa/St. Pete listed kayaking as his main hobby.  It’s a wonder that any boats could ever enter Tampa Bay with all those damn kayakers paddling all over the place.  If the title didn’t give it away, this bit of writing is not about my online dating adventures. I feel like Scott would frown upon me still being on Match or eHarmony and now there are all these other apps/sites I hear the millennials at work talking about…it makes my eye start twitching. I do *not* miss dating. I really dig being a wife…well, at least to my husband because he’s literally the best ever. I’m writing this at the moment, and I’m still not even sure if I’m actually going to post it to share with all of you. I have Scott’s thumbs up either way, but this is way more personal than the dating disasters I experienced before Scott and I got married. Also, I am not an English teacher, and I feel like I forget one more grammar rule every single day, so if you’re looking for perfect prose, then this isn’t your stop. Hell, I don’t even know if that’s the correct use of the word “prose.” Also, is that period in the right place? Should it be before or after the quotation mark?  Ugh. Exhausting.

I like writing out the thoughts floating around in my brain. Those thoughts often spill out in random bursts of information to whoever’s around me at that moment or through a Facebook post or an Instagram caption. Sometimes I know if I let the thoughts escape then someone will probably reassure me, agree with me, put fear to rest (at least for that moment until my mind conjures up more), or often offer up something that lets me know I’m not alone. Scott already gets a ton of this mental diarrhea from me.  There’s always therapy, I guess, which I have gone to before and will never rule out for the future, but I feel like maybe sharing some of this story as it unfolds and letting some of my thoughts out into the world just might help me or maybe help another woman or couple possibly heading down a similar path as us.

So, here we go. Life events have happened before this and life events will continue to occur during and after this, but I’m only starting with this current point of our lives…Scott and I would like to have a child. As it turns out, that’s potentially not going to be an easy thing for us to do. I don’t know what the future holds. Who does? Maybe I’ll naturally get pregnant next month, but there are already a few recently discovered hurdles to overcome in the process, and I want to find the humor in them, so I’m going to write about them as they happen. Maybe I won’t find any humor at all or I’ll find it helps me process to write it out to share. Maybe this will just turn into a Martin family page where I share updates about our new Baby Martin or inundate whoever’s tuning in with pictures of Baby Martin or maybe Baby Martin can read about how Baby Martin came into the world when Baby Martin is older. Who knows? I’m not trying to be a blogger, influencer, or anything like that at all. Honestly, I look at some of those lifestyles blogs or perfectly curated influencer Instagram pages and just think that picture-perfect life looks exhausting. We live in L.A. and I may post a pretty pic here and there, but our daily life is just that…daily life, except with less humidity and mosquitoes than we grew up with in Florida. I’m just sharing my story with whoever (whomever?! WHEN DO WE USE WHOM…EVER?!?!) wants to read it. I’m a month or two behind in the story already so I’ll try to catch you up quickly, but let’s consider this the prologue for now. Here’s hoping for a happy epilogue!

I’ve made jokes here and there on social media about people asking us if/when we are going to have a baby. We were asked the night we got engaged when we were going to have a kid and Scott, beer in hand, said, “Well, I’ll probably finish this beer first!” It honestly hasn’t really bothered me and still really doesn’t although it may cause a bit more of a sting lately…I mean, I get it. We are almost 39. My biological clock should be TICKING (stomp) LIKE (stomp) THIS! (stomp) (Google: “Marisa Tomei clock ticking” if you don’t get that reference). Scott and I didn’t “find” each other until we were 33. Well, we met at 22 and stayed friends for 11 years, but our romantical stars didn’t align until we were 33. We were engaged at 34, married at 35, and then we just wanted a few years to enjoy being married (plus, I moved across the country to Los Angeles leaving everything I’d ever known behind and needed a steady job for my own sanity before procreating).  I’ve been asked the baby question by friends, family, coworkers, nail technicians, grocery store cashiers, gynecologists, random strangers in line at Starbucks, and even a former flame. I usually throw a joke out there to “answer” the question and then move on to another subject. When we got Stout (our 7 lb Shih Tzu), the question did die off for a bit because maybe we made everyone think, “Oh, they got a dog, so maybe that’s a sign of no children on the horizon…” or maybe it’s because she’s the most adorable dog in the world and I’ve become obsessed with her so all anyone was getting was pic after pic of her.  I don’t use the word “obsessed” lightly or as slang…I love that silly little dog so much that I’m ALREADY sad about potentially not giving her enough attention if we have a baby. Here’s a pic for proof of her cuteness plus this pic just makes me laugh (its all real, not a photo studio)…So, I’m a crazy dog lady who potentially has fertility issues. There’s more to share on that whole fertility front, but I’m going to send this particular post out into the cyber world first and probably regret it a few thousand times before I post about meeting the Reproductive Reaper.  I probably won’t keep all this alliteration up either…we’ll see.

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