It has been a well-kept secret that my husband and I cannot (apparently) have any more kids.
I say apparently because nothing has been confirmed beyond that we are both physically capable and healthy. It could just be a matter of timing that will work itself out eventually. And then again, we really could be one of those cases where after thirty things get really complicated in the baby-making department.
These questions would require a fertility specialist to answer, which we still haven’t come to terms with tackling. After three years of planning for the next one.
Nevertheless, as soon as we started revealing little bits and pieces of our well-guarded secret lives, it became overwhelmingly apparent to us just how uncomfortable our infertility issues make people.
There are several reasons why this could be the case.
It Could Be Because I Won’t Tolerate That Everything Happens For A Reason Bullshit
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