The Eternal Guest Room

It’s my birthday today. Today I am 32. I am not super thrilled about that.

I write this knowing that there are women who would love to be in my shoes, and I’m sensitive to that. I know that there are lots of people closer to 40 who will just look at me and think I’m being ridiculous. I am thankful that I am facing these issues at 32 and not at 38. I really am.

But I’m not getting any younger. If we just started trying, my age wouldn’t bother me at all. But it’s been nearly 4 years, and every year that passes is another reminder and another lost year.

I hate when people say “you’re still young, you still have time.” While that may be true, it may not be true. My problems are going to get worse with every passing year, not better. If I had trouble at 28, why would it suddenly get better when I’m 32?

We went to Mexico for my 30th birthday because I was not pregnant and I wanted to be so badly. It seemed like such a milestone; after all, it’s easy to get pregnant in your 20s, but in your 30s, not so much – right? That’s not talk, that’s fact. Your body is really primed for pregnancy when you’re 19 or something ridiculous like that.

I know now how precious time is. I know how short it can be. I know how quickly it can pass. Every passing year is a reminder of what I don’t have. And one year closer to running out of hope.