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At the start of 2015, I sat Oneal down, and I asked if we could work on getting pregnant, really work on it. He agreed, and we made plans, and decided to go back to the doctor.
But we’re busy people, and we can get pretty forgetful.
Oneal wasn’t able to take his pills regularly. Sometimes he would run out, and we would forget to buy. Or he would miss a day or two because he was busy at work. Or one of us would go to the pharmacy to buy more pills, but we’d forget the prescription at home. Sometimes other expenses would come up, and we wouldn’t be able to buy the meds.
It was frustrating, and sometimes I worried that he wasn’t taking it seriously, that he didn’t want a child as much as I did. I tried not to say it, but I feared that he only wanted a child because he thought it would make me happy, not because he wanted a child too. It really wasn’t fair, but that’s how anxiety works.