Monday, March 25, 2019


I think I always knew that I wanted to be a mother.  Stereotypically, I played "house" with my dolls and my little girl friends and their dolls.   I even got a nice, toy pram for my baby dolls.

I remember walking all over pushing that pram.  I walked all over the neighborhood.  I went to stores.  I felt the admiration of crooning adults (mainly women) who commented on what a good little mother I was. 

When I was thirteen, my first nephew was born.  I loved that baby so much!  I used to take the school bus that went by my sister's house instead of  the bus I was supposed to take- simply because I wanted to see the baby.  He grew and changed every time I saw him.

I used to wish that he was my baby.  Of course, with my nephew I was playing house like I had done with my dolls.  I didn't have to worry about the realities of parenting, just the "fun" part!

When we got married I was 18 and on the pill.   I knew that I was not really ready to become a mother yet.   I did babysit for neighbors, and enjoy their babies though.

When Nick finished law school and joined the Foreign Service, I went off the pill and started hoping to get pregnant.   When I failed to get pregnant, I went to my doctor and he started me on fertility drugs.   I took pills, and went to the doctor's office twice a month for fertility shots.  I charted my temperature to find my most fertile times.   I had blood tests and other tests were done on me and Nick.

My doctor told me that usually fertility treatments worked withing four months.  Since I didn't conceive in four months, it was unlikely that I would ever have children.   

After almost a year of fertility treatment, I stopped.  We were getting ready to go overseas and it wouldn't have been possible to continue.

Imagine my joy, our joy, when I found out that I was pregnant!   We were in Bangkok.  At that time (1976?) we had to make overseas phone calls through the US Embassy operator.    We called my mother and my in laws.  We were all overjoyed!  The baby was due in April,

On January 2, 1977, I started to bleed.   We went to the hospital.  There was no heartbeat.  The pregnancy urine test was negative.   I was no longer pregnant.  Or, at least, I was no longer carrying a living baby.   We were devastated.   This time we did not call home with our news.   We wrote and mailed notes to everyone. 

More later......

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