I had the most amazing experience. I don't know if the events leading up to the experience had anything to do with it or not, but I will outline them if for no other reason than to give some context.
Last Friday Brad and I went to the local gym to work out. I decided that I would go for a swim if I owned a suit that would fit. Fortunately, I had a one piece that was years old and had stretched out so I was good to go.
The pool only had a few people swimming and they were mostly older - probably 60's or greater. I shared a lane with a nice gentleman for a few laps until one was vacated and I moved to that one. It felt just wonderful to swim. Doing the breaststroke felt kind of funny, as if my back was bending too much, but swimming on my back or underwater felt great. For more than 6 years I imagined I would swim later on in my pregnancy and here I was doing it.
At one point I even openly acknowledged my pregnancy when a young lady (early 20's at the oldest) joked that when I swim on my back all she could see were two boobs. She laughed and said she wished she had a bigger chest. I replied, "Well, these are pregnancy induced." It was odd to be so guiltlessly open about being pregnant, but I figured this was a fairly safe crowd - being men in their 60's and 70's and this one lady who probably wouldn't be thinking about kids for years to come.
"Yeah, I had that happen when I had my son, but they went away again," was her next statement. Normally, this would likely give me a twinge of jealously, but I guess I was enjoying the swim too much.
Shortly after, I called it good and headed off to wash some of the chlorine from my skin and suit. As I clumsily stepped out of my suit - trying to take if off while bending over my growing tummy without letting the suit touch the floor - it hit me. "I'm pregnant!" I giggled out loud. For about a minute I just sat there in the shower, occasionally giggling with no other thought in my head than, "I'm really pregnant!" No, that's not true . . .I remember thinking, "Thank god for modern technology that I could get pregnant." But mostly it was just joy, pure and simple.
I couldn't wait to share it with Brad, but by the time we met up about five minutes later, the moment had passed. The best way I could describe it to him was that for those 60 seconds or so I was pregnant without baggage. I didn't feel the weight of years of failed treatments and failed pregnancies. It didn't matter about the donor eggs. I had no fears (or even thought) of the pregnancy not producing a baby.
I imagine that is how people feel when they get pregnant easily - not for a magical moment, but most of the time. I'm not going to lament the loss of innocence, however. I have mostly come to terms with that aspect of infertility. Besides, I don't want to sully that experience by wishing I could have more of those times. If I never have a moment like that again, that will be ok. It is enough that I can hold on to the memory of it.
Tee hee hee . . . I'm still smiling.