The Master Plan

For as long as I can remember, I knew that I wanted to have a baby. And even way back when it seemed foolish to have such thoughts, I always knew that by a certain age, I would do it on my own if I never got married. Did I jinx myself? Or was it merely a foreshadowing to future events?

In my early 20’s, I said if not married by 32, then pregnant by 33. As my 30’s crept closer and closer, so too did my target age move up and up. Part of it was because I wasn’t in a strong enough financial situation to do it on my own. (Since graduation, I had always worked in the non-profit world. What I didn’t understand then, was that non-profit organizations make a profit. How would they survive otherwise? No, the non-profit part refers to its employees. No profit for me. It was all about paycheck to paycheck. Even now, three years removed from a non-profit, I am still paying on it — paying off credit cards that helped supplement my income.)

Enough of that….back to my pregnancy plan. So part of the decision to hold off was financial. The other part — the romantic optimist in me thought that if I did it on my own, I would be giving up on finding love. And I believed that for a long time. Part of me still does, but the need to be a mom (and the ever closing window on that opportunity) has grown stronger and squelched most of those thoughts.

Do I hope to someday get married? Absolutely. It’s just that now the whole image of the big wedding and the fancy dress and the 10 bridesmaids….it has been replaced by something much more subtle and age appropriate.

This past year, I finally made the decision to “shit or get off the pot.” And to do that, I needed to share my plan with people. That made it real. At Christmas, I told my sister-in-law. She was the right amount of happy, excited and cautious. She asked questions, and once satisfied that I truly had thought this out, gave me her unconditional support. Unfortunately, I don’t anticipate that coming from everyone in my family. So we’re keeping them in the dark for right now.

Next I told my closest friends. And really through the spring, it was nothing more than that — just talk of the plan — until I had my annual exam, and I had the talk with my doctor, who immediately prescribed prenatal vitamins. Suddenly, it seemed very real. And very exciting. And very scary.

I started thinking of baby names. That eased a little of the fear. Jack. Mason. Oliver. Sophie. Madeleine. Olivia. Thinking of my pre-conceived peanut’s name is calming. It makes me realize why I’m going through all of this on my own. I love this baby already, before it even exists. Having a name — even if I end up hating all of those by the time I deliver — makes it a real entity.

I took the next step last week — I had a physical at the office of a new OB/GYN. One who specializes in infertility. My situation is unique in that I won’t necessarily be infertile, but will be going through the process of a woman with fertility issues in how I try to get pregnant.

I met with Jan, an RN, who was so empathetic to my situation and so understanding, I knew I was in the right hands for this process. She glossed over stats and numbers, and told me not to get preoccupied on them, which I appreciated. She sent me home with two new magazines about pregnancy and conception. I’ve stopped taking the pill, and this month during my cycle will get blood work done to measure hormone and egg levels. And next month, I go back for a consultation.

If all looks good — if they determine that medically I should have no problem getting pregnant (minus the percentages because of my age) — we will chart my ovulation for a few months, so that after the holidays I can start shopping for some “baby batter.”

By the spring, my credit cards will be mostly paid off. My savings will have been built up to a safe cushion. And I will have gone through this thought process, talking through this plan with multiple professionals, for over a year. And then, I will spring it on my family. Can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to that!