Finally I could just put my focus and energy into my family, which now included a beautiful, healthy baby boy, a teenage step-daughter, a husband who worked at even more businesses than he did when this story all started, a bratty and jealous maltipoo, and four indoor orange cats. My life was still a complete circus, but this is when I started setting boundaries, making positive changes, and figuring out what was most important to me.
So here I am, a year and a half into my marriage, struggling with just about every aspect of my life, and now I’m grieving the loss of my pregnancy, worried that I might never have the chance to have a baby. We moved into a new home at this time, too, that was crazy expensive and equally awesome. It was my dream home. We stopped at nothing to get it (though it added tons of financial stress to our family), because we planned to fill that ginormous home (I call it my castle) with many children! I was never going to give up on this dream: the big, beautiful home or the big family.
My husband and I had decided to start a family shortly after we got married, because we were both closer to 40 than 30, and didn’t want to wait too long and miss out on the opportunity to have kids together. I think we just assumed it would just happen. Both of us were relatively healthy, so we didn’t think anything of it. But after several months of trying with no success, we realized that the clock was ticking, and it might be time to seek some medical advice.
When I came back from San Diego, I don’t know what I expected, but I was not prepared for what I got. I was 33 years old, living with my mother in the middle of cornfields, with nothing to do but promote my online network marketing business that I no longer loved (and was no longer thriving).