Getting Married

Until I was 28, I was completely sure that I had no intention, and I do mean NONE, of having a child.

Peripherally, getting married was something I didn't much think about. In my twenties, I had two cohabiting relationships that lasted several years each. In neither one was marriage or children EVER discussed. That was just fine with me, a very happy serial monagamist.

Then at 28, in the midst of perhaps my least promising relationship, I got pregnant. I know (and I knew at the time) that I was responsible. I'd been experimenting with so-called natural birth control; which involved daily assessment of vaginal mucous and counting days - it used to be called Vatican roulette.

I'd been lucky earlier when at 22 I got pregnant by a boyfriend who adored me but abhorred the very thought of reproducing. Then, I lucked into an illegal but knowledgeable and caring RN who sent me home to my life afterward without consequences and without the putative father knowing. To this day.

At 28, I was lucky again. I had this really great doctor, my OBGYN, who talked to me as if I was his own daughter: "What do you want to do?" he asked gently. I said something like I thought abortion was the only realistic option, given that the father was a neurotic I'd been trying unsuccessfully to break up with for six months, and I had no way of supporting a child...

He said, "Are you sure?" I said yes. And then he said, "We can terminate this pregnancy, it will have no bearing on your ability to give birth in the future. It is a safe, simple procedure. I will take good care of you."

He repeated "I will take care of you," touching my hand lightly, when I was drugged and readied for the procedure, just a few days later.

I woke up, briefly sick from the anesthetic, but unpregnant and basically good to go... I saw my good doctor one more time. "We'll have a different outcome next time," he said, shaking my hand and smiling at me as I left his office.

Okay, marriage is what I was on about, initially.

Well, for me, the experience of that abortion that went well, (despite the boyfriend/father who picked a fight with me because he hadn't had enough time to "digest" his breakfast) changed everything.

Almost at once I thought "what if that was my LAST CHANCE?" Twice now I have aborted potential children.

What if there will be no more?

That question changed my life.

Basically I scrapped my MO of falling in love with cute guys and living with them until I couldn't, or didn't want to, anymore. I replaced it with a policy of (I can only describe this as) finding Daddy for my child. He needed to be: Intelligent, smart, sexy (SO wish I had privledged this more)

I found the man who fathered my daughters and although I did eventually marry him under circumstances I won't go into here; suffice it to say that they amounted to emotional blackmail by a couples counselor - my view on marriage as an institution remained unchanged.

Fast forward twenty-odd years: I don't know if it's Harry, or the life place we're in together - But I knew almost right away that I wanted to be married to Harry. I remember we talked about it very early on. "Do you think you'll ever get married again?" he asked and I knew it was YES.