Turning 50 wasamomentous[2] occasionforme. Otherpeoplecelebratebydoingsomethingoutofthenorm[3]. Onefriendmadeapilgrimage[4] fromVancouvertoSeattletoseehisfavouritehigh-schoolband, Rush. AnothertravelledtoItalywithhispartnertosipredwineandwalkcobblestonestreets.[5] SomeoneelseboughthisdreammotorcycletocruisethebackroadsofAlberta.[6]
Notme. MywifeandIdecidedtohaveababy. Yup[7], ababyformy 50th. Actually, itwasfarfrom[8] sudden. Gettingpregnantissupposedtobeeasy, butitwasn’t. Thewaitingroomofaninfertility[9] clinicisananxiousplacetosit. Ifoundmyselfwonderingwhattheothercouples’ struggleshadbeen. Atourappointment, adoctortoldmywifethatatherage, thechanceswereslim[10]. “Youare 40,” hepointedout.
Icouldseemywife’sfrustrationmounting[11]. Threetimesin 20 minutes, hegentlyremindedherhowoldshewas. Ithoughtthatifhesaidthatonemoretime, hewastheonewhowouldneedadoctor.
Weproceededtofollowtherecommendedpathandrejoicedatthenewsoftheretrievalof 33 eggs, morethana 40-year-oldshouldproduce.[12]
Toourshockandsurprise, thefirstimplant[13] failed. “What? Howhardcanthisbe?” Thesecondattemptalsofailedandourspiritssank.
Weweregettingalessoninjusthowdifficultitistogetpregnant. Everywherewewenttherewerebabiesinstrollersandcarriers[14]. Wefeltlikelosers. Wewondered, “What’sthematterwithus?” Webecameawareofthepainmanycouplesexperienceinwaitingforandworryingaboutpregnancy. Itcrushesmanyacouple.
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