I celebrated my 18th birthday over 25 years ago. For me this is a sad reality, but even worse is the fact that it has taken me this long to become an adult. This is not something that I declare proudly; it's just an observation. It is an observation that I can make dispassionately since I can see maturation and growth; so I know what things were before. I have you, my friends here at Literotica, to thank for this progress since before joining this community I may have been over 18, the age at which Lit allows members to join, but I did not know what it was like to be an adult.
Why would I say that I wasn't an adult? I feel that this is true because there were many things that adults did that I wasn't doing. Chief among these are the fact that I did not make my own decisions about how I wanted to live my life and I did not know what it was like to enjoy my sexuality. I thought that my sexuality was something to be kept under wraps because I was smart and so I was expected to use my brains to get by in life; and sex and brains don't really mix in Jamaica. Of course, this is not true, but it is what I was raised to believe; along with other ideas like I had to get married before having sex at all and that I definitely had to get married before having a child.
Can you imagine my shock then when I woke up one morning to realize that I was a part of the statistic that said that women over 35 who weren't married were going to have a hell of a time changing that? I had some serious thinking to do. Do I grow up on my own, or do I chance it and continue to wait for Prince Charming? Well, not being accustomed to making my own decisions meant that I hadn't mastered that skill and so when faced with making a decision about my future, it should come as a surprise to no one reading this that I made the wrong choice.
Can you blame me though? The Prince and I knew each other well. We'd been friends, and lovers for years so why not give him a little more time and impress him with my coolness by not nagging about getting married? I'll tell you what's wrong: I was the only one doing any waiting; time was not waiting for me.
I'll be honest. I did not want children when I was younger. I thought that I would do something good for humanity to not procreate and add to the depletion of the Earth. I felt that I was morally superior to all those women who wanted, and had, their two point six children. The fact that I, honestly, did not look my age facilitated me in this delusion. The fact that I have had no illnesses beyond the occasional cold led me to believe that I had time and good genes on my side.
Well, guess what, I was wrong about all of those things. I decided one day, about two years ago, to eschew the Nazarite vow that I made as a child (fodder for another essay I suppose) and have a child myself. I have written about broken vows in this forum already so I won't linger on this, but suffice to say that things have not gone as planned.
My IVF failed. In truth, I FAILED. I was the one who had no eggs in my two follicles -- six short of what the doctor wanted, but at least two gave me the chance of twins. It was a nasty shock. I had to face facts for the first time. The doctor, my third opinion, said that my issues were age related and that my real options were donor eggs or adoption; neither of which would result in me having a child of my own.
Now I know the objection that some of you are raising: a baby girl to whom I've given birth would be mine even if the eggs were harvested from another woman's body; the young boy whom I adopted would be mine since I raised him. Believe me, my friends, relatives and Prince Charming have all raised these arguments and chastised me for being so selfish as not to see these truths for myself. The truth is that the children would not be mine. It would be me doing what I have always done: sending someone else's child to school; helping someone else's child with his or her homework; encouraging someone else's child. The difference is that it would be my permanent responsibility to do so rather than the ad hoc way in which I interject into the lives of others at the moment. I have recognized that while I am willing to be kind to the children of others I am not willing to make the great sacrifices that I would be willing to make for my own children.
There is bound to be someone who will get angry at my attitude about this and believe that I do not deserve to have a child if this is how I really regard them; my former Dom told me as much. I have seen my friends become livid at me, but the truth is that I do not believe that feeling this way and not talking about it helps anyone, because if I do that then the people around me will never understand why it is that I just haven't taken their advice; if I don't pay them the courtesy of telling them how I feel... in any event, I suppose I thought that that was what one did with one's friends and relatives.
This piece has been hard for me to write for many reasons. I know that it is a "journal" of my thoughts about my IVF. When I mentioned my upcoming IVF last year to some of my friends in The Playground one of them suggested that I blog about it and I thought at the time that that would have been a good idea. I was so excited about the prospect of sharing my battle (and I was arrogant enough to believe that it would ultimately my tale of triumph) with infertility with the world. I recognized then that I would need courage to go through this, but the truth is that I need much more courage now as I contemplate what will happen to me emotionally if my next attempt at IVF fails as well.
So, what have I learned in the past year from this experience that I will take into the next phase of this challenge? I have learned never to allow others to make my decisions for me since I am the person who will live with the consequences of these decisions. It is the true message that I want to pass on in this piece. It is also for this reason that I will NOT be accepting donor eggs or adopting a child. I have decided that if my IVF fails again I will likely do the tummy tuck that I've wanted to do for years and then, when the swelling goes down and the pain subsides, go on a holiday to end all others since "responsible" living would have just made way for having fun on the beach in my new string bikini.