Twenty-seven, 28, 29…the years started to creep up on me and disappear in a flash at the same time. I was enjoying life, living it up and treasuring every minute with a man I knew would be my husband, someday – even if I wasn’t ready to actually get married. Still, the thought quietly whispered in the back of my mind – Could I still have children? Would I be able to have children?
I disregarded it mostly, thinking, “There’s one thing I am supposed to be in life and that’s a Mother. There’s positively no way that God would let me not be a Mom. Right?”
I’ve known since I was a child that I was going to be a Mom. I was born with that Mom-gene that makes you desire to take care of everyone and everything, a desire to love everyone and everything, a compounding yearning to hold a child and look into the eyes of your own or your lover.
Just not yet…
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