If 36-year-old me could sit down for a drink with 21-year-old me, I'd tell the younger me to get thee knocked up ... now. I know, I know. Even women over 70 are still having kids.

I spent my 20s having fun (while trying to not get pregnant) and looking for the one and, lucky me, I found him--albeit 12 years later. Should I have worked less and gone out more? Should I have allowed that first boss to match me with every eligible Jewish man she knew? I wanted finding a partner to be natural and organic, the way love should be, right? 

Besides, I wasn't going to let not having a man stop me from what I wanted in life. When I started shelling out mucho dinero for my first wave of friends getting married, I decided to stop the woe-is-me act and register for my birthday (presents were optional, of course, but if you were going to get me something, then at least get me something I wanted). When I turned 30, I wanted to be a homeowner, and didn't want to wait to be half of a dual-income household, so with some help from the 'rents, I bought a junior one-bedroom that was all my own. 

As I got older, I learned that we make our own luck. I got what I wanted (most of the time) because I worked hard to make it happen. Just like love (I met Michael on match.com), this baby isn't going to be a result of wishful thinking. Instead, I'm going to do everything I can, go to every doctor, eat every weird Chinese herb, read every how-to-adopt book until we get a little one of our own. Wish me luck!