Secondary Infertility and Me

April 25-29 is National Infertility Week. And I’m going to talk about infertility. And this might be uncomfortable for some, but I don’t care. It’s real. For the past 10 or so years, it was my reality. And to date, I know some lovely ladies in my life are still struggling.

I read a story on the Today show about releasing the silence on this powerful subject. Tears streamed down my face as I listened to several women discuss their monthly disappointment. It’s been 5 months since I relived that same disappointment, and for 10 years, I experienced it about the 17th of every month.

When I was 24 and had our daughter, I simply assumed that obviously we were both fine and if and when we ever wanted to give her a sibling—we could and would. Careers took off and the years flew by and we tried and tried-never once using protection. My husband always said it was God’s Will if we were to be parents again.

I bought into that until our daughter was about six. Then, it started to worry me.

Through the years, I would go through periods of depression thinking something was wrong with me. I was counting days—my period was considered normal, and still I wasn’t conceiving.

I blamed it on my weight. I blamed it on his sperm count that he refused to get checked. I blamed it on God. I also thanked God that at least we had one, beautiful healthy daughter. I struggled between guilt for wanting and sadness for needing.

Friends and family members seemed to get pregnant every time they sneezed. It hurt to see baby shower invitations, and it pained me when any of them would offer their suggestions about adoption. Yeah, duh, I know the options out there, believe me…but I want to feel that baby inside me and it’s natural to want—or need—to feel that way.

There is a silent struggle with secondary infertility and everyone seemed to have an opinion. Here are some things people would say:

“You just have one kid? Are you going to have more??” –It’s none of your business.

“At least you have one.” –True, but I want, need, desire, long for more.
“You can always adopt.” –Really? Tell me more because I haven’t ever heard or considered this as an option….

“My friend’s friend got pregnant when they stopped trying—maybe you should stop trying.” –Fuck off.

“Can I have my baby shower at your house?”—Nope. Because when you leave with all your baby stuff and your perfect belly, I am left to clean up the reminders of what I will never have again. It’s not you, it’s me. Sorry.

“An only child is a lonely child.” – Gee, thanks. Cue tears.

The thing is, these people were not trying to hurt me—well maybe the last one was—but most didn’t know what to say or how to say it and some of them had no idea of the pain I was in, so it’s not entirely their fault.

I just had to remind myself that we are good people, and this is life and sometimes unfortunate things just happen to good people.

During the past couple of years, I just resorted to telling people we were infertile. I mean, after 13 years with one partner, no protection, and only 1 pregnancy—why would I think otherwise? It was easier than explaining that we are still trying and have no fucking clue as to why it’s not working and we are too scared to go see a doctor about it.

That worked for a while but it didn’t take away the monthly reminder that no, I was not pregnant. The tears, the depression, the why’s, what’s wrong with me days…and weeks.

The thing that sucks about infertility is that there is nothing you can say that will make us feel better. Family, friends, coworkers, you are in a permanent limbo as we live in our own hell. But you can educate yourself.

Here are some misconceptions:

We are not depressed every day. But some days, we can barely get out of bed.

We love you and when you get pregnant, we are genuinely happy for you—seriously we are (some more than others). But we will have days of jealousy, and we can’t deny that.

We might not come to your baby shower. It’ s not you—it’s us. Try to not take it personal.

You can’t console us unless you know. You really, truly know, so don’t try. Just be open, listen, educate yourself.

And now that I am magically pregnant again, my memory of struggling with infertility is still raw and sometimes it’s hard to believe that I am actually carrying a child. It’s hard to get excited. I’m scared something will go wrong. I don’t understand why now—why me—when I know other deserving couples who haven never conceived. I can’t help but think this should be their time. I feel guilty. But I also feel blessed.

So as I cautiously carry this baby and pray for a healthy one, I want those who struggle to know:

I remember

I hear you

I have hope for you

It’s ok if you don’t attend my baby shower

And for those of you who can’t comprehend the thought of infertility, or secondary infertility, how about this: It’s none of your business why someone has ONE or NO children. Mind your manners and try to keep your questions to yourself, because even if most people will gladly talk about their decision to not have more, once in a while, you’re going to just open a wound and poor salt on it, unknowingly—because sometimes unfortunate things happen to good people, remember?

For more information on how you can help a loved one struggling with infertility or secondary infertility, visit:
http://www.resolve.org/
or
http://www.savvyauntie.com/