Three

I am R’s third wife.

The first time R got married, he was 18 years old and fresh out of high school. As he puts it, he was in heat and being married meant consequence-free sex. Around age 23, he and his wife visited a fertility specialist and found an issue with her fallopian tubes. They decided not to pursue further treatment at that time. Four years later, he found her in bed with another man and they divorced.

At age 30, R met a woman during a weekend away. They parted ways and she called a few weeks later, telling him she was pregnant. They got married immediately and divorced 28 months later. Two boys were born during their relationship.

R spent the next ten years raising one of the boys as a single father. Toward the end of those ten years, we met, he became a Christian, and we were eventually married. We celebrated our third wedding anniversary two weeks ago.

There are times when it just kills me. At age 23, even though he was not ready for children, he cared enough about his first wife to visit a specialist and get some answers. I’ve asked him before about those trips to the doctor. About why they were there, what tests were run, and why they chose not to pursue treatment. He is so pragmatic, my husband:

“We went because because all of our friends were having kids.”

“They took her into a room and handed me a cup.”

“We didn’t have the money for treatment and I wasn’t ready yet.”

She eventually remarried and adopted two children.

For the second wife, R tells me that God blessed him with two beautiful boys but cursed him by having them with a woman he couldn’t stand. I have met her when we drop SSA off for the summer. She and I don’t have much in common, but she is nice enough and obviously loves her boys. She eventually remarried and had another two children with her second husband. All four are good kids and seem at peace with their family’s situation.

And then there’s me.

Wife number three.

Mother of one beautiful almost-six year old. Step-mother to two teenage boys.

And the one woman R has been married to who he hasn’t tried or succeeded to conceive with.

Sometimes I think, “Why did he try to have children with number one but won’t try with me? Why did he have a second with number two, who he doesn’t even like, but won’t have one with me? What’s wrong with me?”

Let me tell you that the Enemy has some great answers to these questions. The Enemy tells me that he tried with number one because he loved her most. That he won’t try with me because number one broke him. That he had kids with number two because she was more seductive than I am. That R would be disgusted with my pregnant body and leave me before the baby was born. That I would fail to get back in shape after the pregnancy and he would never be intimate with me again.

Our weaknesses and insecurities are the Enemy’s playground. What is the Enemy trying to tell me? That I will never be good enough, that I am unlovable, that a man would only want me for my body, and that R is waiting for any excuse to bail out.

Each and every one of those is a lie.

R tells and shows me daily how much he loves me. And I choose to believe him. I rest on the strength of God’s promises and faithfulness. I threw down the fleece (more on that another time) and God answered; I can step out daily in love and trust.

It's just easier when I’m not ramped up on hormones. Only one more injection before retrieval. Thank goodness.

Cycle Day: 13

Estrogen: 3500+

Follicle Measurements: 15m to 18m

Dosage: Trigger Tonight

Retrieval: CD15

Baby Crazy: 7/8