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.
So now that we’ve established that real relationships, even the best ones, aren’t *all* sunshine and unicorns *all* the time, let’s talk real life struggles for a bit. Almost immediately after we got back from our honeymoon, the week before school started, we unexpectedly got my husband’s daughter full-time. I won’t go into all of the story here, or share too many of the details, but let me paint the picture a bit and I’ll let you decide how that went for me.
Our love story was just like a Hallmark movie. Girl returns home to rural USA after ending a bad relationship in the big city… almost immediately meets a nice guy in an old pickup truck wearing old work jeans, flannel shirts, and cowboy boots… oh and he even had baby goats in his kitchen. They hang out innocently while he helps her look for a house to renovate, and he ends up making her fall in love with him. They have a blast becoming best friends, going on romantic dates, and end up starting a life together in his old farmhouse, negating the need for her to buy her own.