A smile and a nudge, an innocent little question, "So, when are you two going to have another one?" It happens all the time.
Our gorgeous little girl just turned two. It marks the end of an era, no longer a baby, now a full fledged little individual. It makes people wonder,
When are they going to have another baby? I get it. I have often found myself wondering when friends or acquaintances are going to have their first or even next little bundle of joy. It's innocent. It's human nature. But, when you're struggling with infertility, it's painful.
Secondary Infertility. I didn't even know that was a thing. I thought, once you have one, you're good. Everyones' hoo-has and yahoos must be functioning fantastically! After our first little miracle shocked us, I took it for granted and thought it would be easy peezy to have another baby. But, it just didn't work out that way.
Now that we have been at this for over a year, we are officially struggling with infertility (they make you wait for the diagnosis, like just 9 months of "trying" isn't really enough). Traveling over 200 miles to various Dr appointments, tracking the intricate workings of my body, detailing the intimate workings of our relationship, losing weight, exercising, changing our eating and sleeping patterns, cutting out soda, preservatives, unhealthy carbs, chocolate (Oh Dear God!)...it's a freaking party. As embarrassing as it is to explain that you're "trying" to have another baby, imagine scratching out a timeline for a team of Doctors to examine and critique. But, this is something we want. Something we have been praying for and believing in for a very long time. So we keep going.
Now for the fun part, Medication! I often wonder what tortured soul came up with the plan for infertility treatments. Some masochist with a sick sense of humor and a medical degree decided to load up an already unstable and insecure woman on hormones that WILL cause her to feel as if her world is crashing down around her, all while getting acne worse than a 15-year-old WoW shut-in and with the added bonus of ballooning up like a marshmallow peep in the microwave. "Now that we've made you fat, ugly and hormonal, why don't you go home and get busy with your husband! We want to make this as awkward as possible so go ahead and only do it between 4 and 5pm in this position, but try to have some fun! *wink wink*"
So, why go through this? Why not just thank God for the one little miracle and accept that she is the only one we were intended to have? I wonder the same thing everyday.
But then I remember how we felt after we got over the initial shock of the first pregnancy. We were ecstatic. A little piece of each of us combined to bring this sweet, sensitive, brilliant little girl into the world. How could we not want to do it again? Memories of sleepless nights and poop explosions are fading and all we can seem to remember is how we felt the first time she smiled at us, how my heart stopped in my chest the first time I felt her kick. How could we not want another one? The most precious sound in the world is my new name uttered from her perfect, tiny lips, "Mommy!" How could I not dream of doing this all over again?
That's the hardest part, though, isn't it?
The wanting.
The aching in my soul for another little miracle. I pray for it daily. Hourly, even. I've bargained with God over this. I've laid on the couch for days overwhelmed with disappointment after my mind convinced me I was pregnant for the umpteenth time. I've wept and apologized to my husband for something I have absolutely no control over. It's almost impossible not to feel like there is something fundamentally wrong with this picture. Not to feel jealous. Angry. Bitter.
I'm so sorry that I feel jealous when I see my friends' posts of their ultrasounds, when they make comments about their morning sickness or the fact that their jeans are getting tight. I don't want to feel that way. But I do. It's so awful to think that, during that baby shower, I had to step out for a moment to compose myself because I was starting to become bitter. Why was it so easy for her to get pregnant? Why is it impossible for me? Why do I get that same feeling of disappointment, that ache of failure EVERY. SINGLE. MONTH??? This is what I was Created for! This is what women are
supposed to be able to do! I am tired of
failing at my basic function as a female! Am I
not a good enough Mom? Don't I
deserve another baby? I live my entire life for that little girl! I exist for her! But God hasn't blessed us with another one. And, though I'm ashamed to admit, it
pisses me off.
Last month, after only one little pink line showed up on the one-hundred-fifty-millionth pregnancy test I took, my husband looked at me and said, "I don't get it, crack whores and drunken 16-year-olds do this all the time. What's wrong with us?" I think that a lot. What's wrong with me? I know God has a plan, I know He has perfect timing, I KNOW THAT!!! ....in my mind.
Could someone explain that to my heart?
But, when I can set my feelings aside, I know that this isn't just about me. This is a universal struggle that men and women all around me are going through. I know so many wonderful, caring people that would make wonderful parents or are already fantastic ones, and they're just waiting to be blessed again. But, notice, no one walks around with an infertility ribbon on their shirt. No one calls out from the rooftops, "I'm infertile! Support me in my struggle!" If infertility is ever mentioned in conversation, the subject is quickly changed. People don't want to talk about it. Whether it's because people have to have sex in order to fail to make a baby (*gasp* she said the S-E-X word!!!) or whether its because people without fertility issues don't know what to say, it's undeniable that no one wants to discuss it.
So, here I am, baring my soul for all of you to see. Maybe I'm hoping that I can help someone else who is in their silent struggle, let them know they have a companion in me. Maybe it's just that it's cathartic for me to put it out there. Either way, this is part of who I am now. This is my husband and my struggle. This is me saying, maybe next month, maybe next month...
