Now what...?

So. I'm back.

And all the tests are back. (the incisions... they're still healing)

We can't have children. At least, not biological ones.

Apparently, we're going to be the weird people in the neighborhood who don't have kids and nobody knows why but frankly they'd just as soon avoid our house on Halloween because, well, grown-ups without kids are just depressing and creepy.

I just keep telling myself that we'll have lots of disposable income. That we'll be able to travel a lot. That we'll keep eating spicy foods with lots of vegetables and won't have to buy jumbo packs of frozen Costco chicken nuggets. My car will stay snot and goldfish cracker free. There won't be any knocked-up, meth-addicted, baggy-pantsed, fourteen-year-olds with 1.8 GPAs sneaking out to have oral sex at OUR house.

On the other hand... no strollers. No onesies. No first grade school music recitals with construction-paper pilgrim hats. No first Mets game. No grandkids. Nobody to take care of us when we're old. Nobody to give my childhood blocks or music box or matchbox cars to.

Sure. Maybe we'll try to adopt. Maybe we won't get our hopes up only to have them smushed down by the malevolent ogre we call fate. Maybe we won't get our hearts broken all over again. But honestly, if you know us, that possibility seems pretty absurd. For us, life = one bad thing after another.