I Missed a Milestone; My Husband Turns 40

Ack! I am so bummed, because I so wanted to do something special with my 200th post. It's a milestone for sure, and it went and snuck up on me with my Integrin Results post! I didn't even notice! How do you write 200 posts, some light and funny (as much so as the complete lack of children and heartbreaking medical mysteries can be) and some more difficult to read (but far more difficult to live), and NOT NOTICE WHEN YOU HIT THAT NUMBER? I am ashamed of myself.

And proud. Proud that I have put it all out there and have kept it up, as much as it can be hard to still be here, plugging away, after all these years and all these posts. TWO HUNDRED. That's a lot of storytelling and educating and sharing.

So, uh, Happy 201st Post to Me! :)

I may be biased, but what a handsome guy!

In other news, Bryce has big birthday this Wednesday. He is turning....dunh dunh DUNH... the big 4-0. Which is a good thing, because you don't want to stop having birthdays (that works out badly)...but it's also causing more angst than he anticipated. Most people, myself included, see Bryce as being very accomplished--he's a wonderful engineer, he has carved a niche out for himself in the scientific/project management arena that's kind of unique, he's a known problem solver (got a bug? he'll fix it in a jiffy), he has multiple patents, he is in a very good spot in his career. He has a lovely home and financial security. He has a successful marriage and a pretty happy life. He has talents that he uses to fill his free time such as playing the guitar and woodworking (a good chunk of our furniture has been made by Bryce). He's a good man. 40 has a lot of good stuff behind it.

But there's that pesky missing piece. And it doesn't just hit me on every birthday, it's hitting Bryce pretty hard, too. By 40 you imagine that you'll have your family at least started. That you have people calling you Daddy and branches of family tree stretching out before you. You don't exactly imagine a big fat question mark where that's concerned, a mishmashed little room (is it a guest room? is it a sewing room? is it a library? is it a thinly veiled start of a nursery?) that ought to have a little person in it, and the possibility that your genetic material is off the table. It's not 100% off the table yet, we are giving it the best shot we can, but that vial of donor sperm cryopreserved in the new clinic's lab is definitely weighing heavily on the sense of being 40 and "halfway done" with life without a genetic legacy. Not exactly how I would phrase it, especially given medical technology, but I can't deny the man his feelings at this turning point.

The good thing is he is looking forward to having an awesome 40th decade. This will be the decade we become parents, even if it's not how we originally imagined. This will be the decade he really busts it at work and accomplishes his dreams. This is the decade of becoming the man he wanted to be. I'm not just making this stuff up, it's an admirable plan and looking forward that I respect very much. I could not love this man more.

It feels kind of low-key this week, though, because the party isn't until April (possibly due to some lapse in planning earlier on my part, possibly due to Bryce also not being sure he wanted a party at first). That's the big celebration and I am super excited (and hush hush) on the details. It's a classic cocktail party. Classy, dressy, and fun. Just a great celebration of a wonderful man in the best of times (minus that one thing). Wednesday I am cooking him a fancy dry-aged ribeye steak, roasted potatoes, and swiss chard with blood orange olive oil (ooh la la). I am sharing a bottle of wine with him despite Egg Boot Camp, because dammit, your husband only turns 40 once and I have been SO GOOD. Just one mini margarita each Friday and that's it. (Ok, fine, last week I had two mini margaritas because I knew it was my last one). We made a completely delicious chicken pot pie that originates in a restaurant near his Mom's in Maine tonight, and so I think all my working out is going down the tubes this week in honor of the big birthday, but that's ok. It will be a lovely week of private celebration, and then we'll have the party.

And I won't be able to have any of the cocktails at the classy party (I am so going to make them create a delicious mocktail for me) because, of course, my retrieval is scheduled for the week right after. As in the party is 4/12, and retrieval is during the week of 4/14. I start stims 4/4 on the plan, which I will write more about later as I am having major anxiety about it all and the details were a bit of a shock to my system. I have historically gone around 11-12 days stimming, so retrieval will probably be mid-to-end-of-the-week. I'll probably be pretty uncomfortable at the party, but not terrible. OH GOD, I WILL LOOK SO BLOATED IN PICTURES! Not a big deal. Not my party, Bryce's party, and if I look pudgy and bloated so be it. Hopefully it just leads to more pudge and bloat and then a cute baby bump should I be so lucky. I welcome the bloat. Sort of. So, no imbibing. But I will be ok to run the party and organize everything and make it fun.

Happy Birthday Week to my fabulous husband, for whom I eat from-scratch GF chicken pot pie at 9:00 on a Monday, for whom I drink wine during Egg Boot Camp...and to whom I owe a gazillion happy moments. May this birthday be the last one that we're childless for. May this birthday be a celebration of the man you are, and the man you are yet to be. May you feel loved and celebrated. And may you know that I believe that you will be the best father a girl could ask for her children, no matter how all this shakes out. There's so much love in this house, it might explode if we don't have some little people enter it soon to start absorbing all we've got to give!

Bryce, doing the wine thing on our anniversary in 2012.

Contemplating either a new woodworking project or a new grilling challenge at his
propane-burner grill station he designed and built outside his garage
workshop. Note the ever-present wine, pretty sure that's a Riesling.