I’m back at the amusement park.

I haven’t yet bought my ticket for the ride, but I’ve been wandering around a bit. After visiting my provider at the end of last year for my well woman exam, I was encouraged to see a specialist or two to review some information and lab results. I debated for a number of weeks, doing research on if and whom I wanted to trust with the tangle of knots that is my health, my history and my heart.

I finally settled on a reproductive endocrinologist after a few inquiries and made a consultation appointment.

It feels awkward to be in this place again.

It took me a long time to decide I was done. This was after so much trying, grief and heartbreak. I was certain that motherhood just wasn’t going to happen for me. It wasn’t meant to be. I was childless not by choice and spoke to that idea multiple times at expos and events. Reminding people that it’s a valid choice, and not just a fact of “giving up”. Because I didn’t give up. I chose, eventually, to stop.

Life moves on, I’ve changed. I met someone new. He knows I’m broken, he knows children were unlikely – only with adoption. We discussed it at length; he is adopted himself, and while he’s had a good experience, we got to a point where we decided against it, for us.

To decide to possibly go back to the rollercoaster of trying to have a family – I honestly question my sanity for a moment. Do I really want to endure the testing, the surgeries, the meds? While my health issues have resolved enough that infertility treatments may be possible again, they’re not without risk. Plus, there’s the additional concern of the emotional side of this. I have a better support in my husband and I am more stable than I was more than a decade ago, but the reality is, this ride is full of ups and downs.