(Infertile but Indecisive) - Clomid

I can't recall if I had previously posted about this little drawing or not; I call it "Family?"
Back in June, Alex and I had a follow-up appointment with the fertility clinic, where I was then prescribed the Clomid and casually informed about my increased risk for conceiving multiples. That week I started my new per diem job at RIO, where I had previously done a graduate externship. One of my colleagues, Jamie, had one young son at the time. She was updating me about her family, telling me about her two not-so-little-anymore boys, and her unexpected third pregnancy - with twin girls! A couple of days later Francine showed me a picture she had drawn during Quiet Time: "This is me, and Daddy, and this is you. You have two babies in your belly." 

To which I mentally replied, Pleasegodno.

***

I just plunked my already-in-existence child in front of the TV to watch "The Hive" while I take a little privacy in the office to freak out and swallow two 50 mg pills of CLOMID. What am I thinking?!? Another baby?!? The possibility of twins?!? Assuming this little egg stimulator even has that kind of effect on my body. Given my "female infertility, age related" chart diagnosis and all. I am supposed to take the medication on Day 3 of my cycle, which I was too wary to do while on vacation. Believe it or not, I'm always very reticent about any new medications, worried that I'll have a spontaneous allergic reaction or experience every one of the adverse side effects. Not to mention, I haven't even been entirely sold on continuing this Second Child endeavor anyway. But I randomly (serendipitously?) discovered a book at the library in NW Portland called Only Child, a compilation of essays about their own experiences with Only Children. Needless to say, even the positive reflections on being One made me seriously doubt my indifference and indecisiveness about continuing to try for another little Baby Closeman.

Over the weekend, Alex and I revisited the saga, and I told him that although I don't technically want another baby, I also don't want Francine to be an Only without at least a little more effort on my part. So I agreed to get the Day 3 FSH/Estradiol labs, take the Clomid, do the ovulation predictor tests, and actually time sex during fertility ... in exchange for my husband's promise to give me whatever I want forever and always. Or, "as long as he is able." 

"You're not allowed to be in bad moods anymore. Ever. Check your crabbiness at the door. No pessimism. You always have to have a good attitude, even when you're tired."

"If I want ice cream, you have to get it for me."

"You can't be a dream killer. Or reveal any kind of reaction when I want to move a piece of furniture or paint a wall or hang a new photo."

"I get to go for walks or nap or run errands or use the computer or redecorate the house whenever I want."

"If I have to give up all my independence and ownership over my own body, you have to do everything within your power to give me anything else I want. I get to buy new clothes if I feel fat. I can go to yoga or join the gym."

"You have to consider moving in with my dad or moving to Tahoe if I actually get pregnant. I can't do another baby alone. It's too much work."

"If I don't want to work, or I want to 'be a writer,' you have to support me and agree to look into ways to make it happen."

"If I have to compromise practically everything, so do you," I finished dramatically.

Humoring me with a chuckle and stroke of my hair, he agreed to all of my demands.

So with that, I shall go relieve The Babysitter so that Francine and I can hit up Kaiser to get those Day 3 labs.

"Do you think I'll have a Baby Sister or Brother?" ... And it's already begun.