If it's going to just be us

Even when there’s hope for success in the future, something about being told you’re battling infertility changes everything. I went from assuming we’d have two kids to hoping we’d even have one. I went from wondering how long our house would be big enough for a family of four, to thinking “we’ll always have a guest room.” To me, thinking about never having kids isn’t giving up hope or being pessimistic. It’s how I prepare myself. If I can come to terms with the worst case scenario, then anything but is a nice surprise.

I’ve thought a lot about what may be if it’s going to just be us. First and foremost, I want a baby, and I would gladly give these things up to be a mom. But a part of me has to make a list of positive alternatives, or I’d crumble.

I want us to get a motorcycle. Buddy and I love to ride his dad’s Harley, and I’d love for us to have one of our own. We would in time anyway, but the expenses of having another vehicle, particularly one that is essentially a toy, are not going to be feasible while we have a child in diapers, or maybe not even for quite a while after.

I want to travel. To Ireland and Paris, Italy and Australia. To see family and friends in New York, Seattle, Baltimore, and Chicago. Take an Alaskan cruise. Not Immediately, but eventually. Maybe well-timed around Mother’s or Father’s Day, to take our mind off the pain I’m sure wouldn’t ever really go away.

I want to go back to school. I don’t love my job. I do it because I feel it pays well and it’s stable, and I have relatively great insurance regarding IF. But if I’m not going to have to support children, I want to do something I love.

I want to make my baking hobby into something bigger. This may or may not have to do with going back to school. If we don’t have kids, I’ll have the time it would take to dedicate to growing a home-based business.

Not having kids would mean more freedom to live anywhere. With grandkids, it’s important for me to be near our parents; but if there aren’t any, I see less reason to confine ourselves to where we are.

I want a pool. We told our realtor 1,000 times, “no pool.” This was mostly because of the upkeep, but also because we didn’t want to have to worry about little ones around water in our backyard, especially when my in-law’s have one 10 minutes away that we’re welcome to use any time. I still don’t want one if we have kids, but if it’s just going to be us, I’d seriously consider putting one in for the hot summer days when packing up to go to my in-laws’ for cool relief sounds unappealing.

Like I said, none of this is anything I want more than a child. None of this would come immediately. But on days when I feel distracted with thoughts of IF-induced sadness, thinking of these lame-in-comparison consolation prizes helps.