Oh, Lawd, here I go again!

Okay... where to begin? 

Here I thought I was done having babies, so I got myself some boobies. And then that damn clock inside me started ticking...

When I was 25, I didn't really think I'd actually stop at just two kids, so this shouldn't surprise me. But I thought I'd at least know by the age of 30 if I'd want more. The deal with hubby was, when my Mirena expired when I was 30, and when Avary, my second daughter, was 5, then we'd decide whether or not we wanted another. Well, at the time, we didn't, so I decided I'd finally grow some cahonahs and get some tatas. 

But then my best friend and her husbutt made the decision to add an "ours" to their "yours" and "mine". I was there for her from the very beginning of their journey... like, literally. She sent me a pic of her holding her legs in the air on ovulation day. I practically witnessed a PG-13 version of her egg being fertilized. (Y'all don't understand how much I love having a best friend I'm this close with. NOTHING is off limits with ma guh.) I was the first to get a pic of her positive pregnancy test just 3 weeks later. I took her to a few of her OB appointments, including the one verifying everyone's suspicion: I was getting a new nephew—we're from the south, so when your best friend has a baby, you're the Aunt or Uncle, blood or not. 

Through all of this, it made me realize how much I missed having a baby, and as a few of my other friends started announcing their pregnancies, you bet your sweet ass I had bump-envy like a mofo. 

When Jason and I started dating, he always said he wanted a bunch of kids, but never thought he'd be able to have them because he had torsion as a child, so he figured he'd adopt. *SPOILER ALERT* Along came little Avary several years later. Now, the question is, was she a little miracle baby? Did she come from the one and only little swimmer strong enough to make it to my egg, which might've had mystical powers of magnetism sucking it in the right direction? 

Oh yes, this is going to be one of THOSE blogs. I'm a verified oversharer. So if you are easily offended, or squeamish around TMI, you might as well close out this tab now. I am shameless and I don't believe in filtering. #fuckthat

Anyways, SQUIRREL! Back to what I was pondering. Will Avary be Jason's only mini? *SPOILER ALERT* We also have our Josalyn, who is mine from my previous marriage, and Jason's been her Daddy since she was 9 months old. 

Or, did the torsion happen at such a young age that he was able to completely recover from it, and we won't have any problems conceiving again?

Here are some things to factor in:

I had been on my Mirena for 5 years, having gotten it when Avary was 6 weeks old. 

I got it removed, and was put on NuvaRing. 

My periods were all messed up and never straightened out on NuvaRing, so I finally gave in and got on the pill. I'm a card-carrying, medicated ADD-er. Yup, I just made that up. Because what else would you call a person with severe ADD. We don't get a name with -path on the end of it. We get the crazy without the cool title. See? There I freakin' go again! Shit! 

I fought the pill for, like, ever, because I can't remember to take them for the life of me. But then I got  on it and downloaded an app that helped me remember... most of the time. 

So then Jason and I had a very exciting conversation in which I told him I thought I wanted another minion, where he then did a happy dance saying he'd been thinking about it too, but didn't say anything because he thought he might have just been drinking a little too much, (we're from Texas, so we do that from time to time), and VOILA! Kayla came off her birth control. 

That was August 2015. So... (hold up, I gotta count on my fingers, because I don't math) 10 months ago. 

Now don't go freaking out over it seeming like that's a long time ago. Because then a lot of shit happened. We enthusiastically tried for two months right after getting off my pill. But my periods were way off, completely unpredictable. I'd been on BC for 6 years by then, so my body definitely needed time to figure out what the hell was going on. And then the biggy: Jason's job sent him 3 1/2 hours away to Corpus Christi. What started out as a job that would keep him there for a couple weeks has turned into one that will probably keep him there for a year, if not more (Dear, sweet baby Jesus, please not more). That was October 2015. 

Being in the oil industry, my hubs works some incredibly long hours, including a lot of weekends. With the girls being in school, it was up to him to come home to visit us. And 90% of the time, unfortunately, the weekends he got to come home did NOT land on my fertile week. Alas...

So why start this blog now?

Well, because now, it's summer, and with the kids being out of school, my hope of getting knocked up by my super-hot hubby is renewed, because our girls and I are spending more than half of summer break down in Corpus with Daddy! 

Oh, and wouldn't you know, my fertile week this month just so happened to land on the very first week we were to go to our "vacation home" as we've jokingly named it. So as soon as the girls' last day of school ended at noon on June 1st, our booties hopped in my minivan (AKA our Family Assault Vehicle) and sped—oopsies—down to my hubby's rental house, which he shares with three of his co-workers. No worries, though. The place is effing huge. Each of the guys have their own rooms (Jason has the master, since his name is on the lease and he found the house), and we made the "youngins" their own room in the dining area, where the guys originally had a blackjack table *rolls eyes. (Fucking bachelor pad).

There are only 4 people who know about us trying to make a baby right now: my bestie Jamie, my Twinnie Erin, and my Aussie bestie Rebecca. Also, my author friend Brooke Cumberland, who I messaged after reading her post about her trying to conceive too, but she's been sworn to secrecy. Well, and my mom, but she doesn't count, because who is she gonna tell? lol! It's not even a secret, really. It's more of a superstition, I guess. I feel like if a whole bunch of people know we're trying, the longer it's going to take. Or maybe it'll just seem like it, because I'll have people constantly asking for updates on the baby-making. Kind of like a miscarriage, ya know? Like they say you're not supposed to announce you're pregnant until after the 10-week mark, because miscarriages are so common during that time period. I don't want to announce we're trying, because then what if it never happens? What if Avary really is our little miracle baby? I wouldn't want a ton of people feeling all sympathetic and pity me because we can't have any more.

So why make a blog, Kayla? You dumb ass. 

Well, for now, only my trusted 4 will be able to see my posts. And then if we get our wish and his baby gravy does its duty, I'll make it public and people will be able to read the whole journey. 

Holy hell, is it really 11:30pm? I seriously sat down at 8 to start editing a book for another author, but here I've created a whole new blog site and written another damn novel. Whoopsies. Clearly, I'm off my meds. 

Another post soon! <3