I told The Hero I didn’t want kids.
On our first date.
He laughed and said I would change my mind.
I had never wanted kids.
Babies didn’t make me oogle (still don’t).
I had big plans for us.
Complete days of total irresponsibility.
And absolute no sign of crayons,
It took three years.
For The Hero to be right.
Work wasn’t as rewarding as the brochures made it look.
Money spends twice as fast when you have a little.
The Hero and I were happy and did enjoy days of total irresponsibility.
But something was missing.
He could sense I wasn’t satisfied.
But when I told him I wanted kids,
He said it was the cute Asian toddler beside us on the airplane.
He said I’d change my mind when we landed in Mexico.
He brushed it off when I read “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”
on the beach,
drinking a margarita.
But he almost fell off the bench when I told him
I felt like we were missing out on a different kind of happiness.
And that I hated the person I was becoming.
And I seriously wanted to talk about a baby.
The Hero had been waiting his whole life to be a father.
He’s that damn good at it.
I took it extremely personal when we didn’t get pregnant.
I felt that my hard heart for so many years led to our infertility.
I felt I had failed my husband,
and my own gender.
I was unable to perform a task that millions of women accomplish.
I got bitter.
I bit back tears at the arrival of birth announcements.
I went to work instead of baby showers.
I let the Devil convince me that I couldn’t get pregnant
and that made me less of a woman.
Our adoption changed everything.
My kids are just that: my kids.
But every once in awhile that old bedfellow creeps back.
He starts to lie again.
I’m not good enough.
Our love is different.
They aren’t my kids.
An information packet came yesterday.
Asking us same questions as two years ago.
Had we worked past our infertility issues?
I stared at the question.
I asked The Hero.
He offered up.
I stared back.
Infertility is a lie. We had a family without the biology.
God did that.
Infertility is just a liar.
And that’s a big enough history to never get over.
I’m just mad we spent so much time being sidetracked by him.
He usually always is.
We’d always have issues with infertility.
It told us we’d never have a family.
It was wrong.
And I’m sure we would have discussed it more.
But there were two voices already screaming