Today I went in for my second blood-test. The room was packed, I was in there for over an hour waiting, and was very thankful I wasn't having an ultra-sound as well, or I would have been out of there an hour later than I was.
There was a lady there with her two other kids. They were beautiful. The little boy had a buzz-light year toy and so every so often my magazine reading was interrupted by a "To infinity and beyond". I assumed she was there to have her third child, and I was happy for her.
But it got me thinking again.
When Thumper came along, for the first time in years, Earl and I were positive about numbers of kids again. He was the first embryo out of a batch (hate that word!!!!) of 4, so it looked good that we might get more than one kid from this cycle (and we were praying for four). We had always talked about, if we had a kid, but suddenly we were talking about when we had "our kids". Earl and I have never discussed if we would do another stimulated cycle for a second or third child. We would love lots of kids, but at the moment it's hard enough not having one, so we try not to think beyond that.
I still recall doing the sums when we were working out when to start trying. First baby at 27, second at 29, third at 31, fourth at 33, and if we are up for it, fifth at 35. Seems so ridiculous and presumptuous, but at the time, with my Mum's mega-fertile sisters and mother in mind, I thought it was how things would go.
I was wrong.
Even though I would be happy, happy, happy with one. Thrilled with one. Would throw a huge party for one.
My heart longs for kids. Plural.