Aunt Flo. And return of my fertility (such as it is), I guess. After eight wonderful post-birth, period-free months (not including Lochia, or The Period That Never Ends), I am back in the game. Sort of. Or actually, depending on what "the game" is a metaphor for, I'm at least back at practice. No attempts at baby-making for about a year, I predict.
Although it does get me thinking. At my six-month post-partum checkup, the doc and I discussed the next baby and all the related fertility concerns that of course come with that thought. Basically, it seems, anything could happen. As we discussed the plan of attack (with me wanting to wait at least a year), he asked "How old are you, again?" while flipping through my chart.
"I'll be 36 this summer," I answered.
"Hmm.... I wish you were younger."
"Yeah, I wish I was younger, too, " I said, joking.
He looked up from the chart and laughed. "I meant medically, in terms of fertility. Look, I can't tell you what to do... you have to consider your situation, socially, emotionally, financially. But, if it were up to me I would say to start sooner than later."
Sooner rather than later. Except that all of the things he listed (the social, emotional and financial aspects) require a wait.
R.I.P. Burrito Brothers
15 hours ago
