Infertility and Having a Baby

I am lucky. I was able to get pregnant with my first child and give birth to a wonderful little human being. I am also lucky to be married to someone with a well-paying job and to be employed at a reasonably-paying job myself. I get to work at something I generally enjoy doing and get to keep that part of my identity. I am able to afford sending my child to daycare (although the working-mom guilt is totally real) and I am able to buy them things that I want to buy them.

And I do.

I try to savor every moment I have with my little one because, even though we have always planned on having more than one kiddo, in the back of my mind I always worry this could be the only experience I ever have with this. I could be experiencing all this sweet little firsts, but on the other side, I am potentially experiencing all these bittersweet little lasts. The last time I have a little one in newborn clothes. The last baby I get to get cute nonsense toys for. The last baby I get to make baby blankets for. The last baby I got to breastfeed. And on, and on.

So I shamelessly buy the cute little clothes for my child, even though they aren't really needed. When I see a cute toy, I'm going to consider buying it. When my little one falls asleep on me, I consider just letting them nap there (but often I don't, because they nap better in their crib). I let the clutter happen, and the chores pile up sometimes, because I want to enjoy being with my kiddo in their tiny years, because I may never get another set of tiny years to experience. I drool over cute cloth diapers and consider getting just another cute style, because I may never have another baby in diapers. I want to experience everything with my child and I am afraid I am going to miss out.

My husband tends to stay looking at the positive. He is certain we will have another baby. But in the darkest corner of my heart, I am afraid. Afraid I am going to let him down, afraid I am going to let my little one down because having a sibling is a wonderful experience. Afraid that I am defective. My infertility haunts me because we have always assumed we would have more children, but in reality, this could be our only baby.

Opening Old Wounds

Hello again. It's been awhile.

My little olive is now 18 months old and we are getting on the roller coaster again. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I love my toddler so much and there is guilt there about having another child because there won't be the same amount of attention to go around. We always wanted more than one child though, so here we are again.

We unsuccessfully started not not-trying when our little one was 12 month old, while I was still breastfeeding (I loved the idea of tandem feeding and was super hopeful that I could get pregnant while breastfeeding). With no since of my cycle restarting, or me being pregnant, we set the date of 18 months to wean our toddler and start seeing a doctor again; lucky for me and my mom guilt, the little one self-weaned at 17 months.

I've been to the doctor now, and we have a game plan, but there was definitely a gut punch when the doctor matter-of-factly noted I was there for Infertility Counseling. Currently I am waiting impatiently for my period, which should be the result of taking the week of progesterone pills to induce it. So I feel sad, bloated and defeated.

I'm on the roller coaster again and I'm not looking forward to the ride.

Pregnancy and Infertility

I have known for most of my life that I was likely going to be battling with infertility, even before I knew what infertility really was.  I remember I used to casually tell my friends that, “Oh, I had a bad infection/surgery and I might have a hard time having kids.” It was something my mom had told me when we talked about how my appendix burst when I was four.  It was just part of the story.  How “the doctor took extra time cleaning out the infection, making sure none got left behind because he wanted to give me the best chance for having kids in the future” because infertility after appendicitis is not unheard of, but being so young I might be able to heal with no issues. So the discussion about infertility started early, even if the “I” word was never specifically said.

Recently I realized that I grew up consciously and subconsciously knowing that growing my family would be difficult.  When the topic of children came up with my husband (long before we got married) I warned him that, while I definitely wanted a bunch of kiddos, it might not be that easy.  Then I was diagnosed with PCOS (read about that here) and still, it was just kind of whatever.  I was warned it might be an issue, but because we weren’t trying for kids it didn’t really sink in; instead, it just joined the background information about why it might be harder to get pregnant, something that hovered in my subconscious and was only paraded out when having kids was brought up.  It was the future, and I used that as a shield. Every so often, it would make it through my armor and I would be sad and depressed but I would push it away, to deal with in the future.

If you’ve be reading my blog you know that once we started trying for kids, the longer were tried, the rougher the emotional roller coaster got.  If I am honest with myself, I admit that getting pregnant took less time than some people with PCOS.  Sometimes it makes me feel like an infertility imposter.  There are woman who took years longer than I did to get pregnant, and I only took 16 months.  It’s still hard to believe I am actually pregnant.  I have seen my baby on an ultrasound; I have seen their little heartbeat and watched them move and wiggle and dance, but still it seems surreal. I’m also always paranoid that this might end badly.  I’m hoping this will wear off, but for now I am hovering between fear and optimism.

I think the game changer for me, in dealing with my infertility and shortening my battle, was knowing early.  We didn’t try for a year, and then seek out help only then to get diagnosed with an infertility issue.  While my husband didn’t want to jump straight to anything harsh or invasive to treat my infertility, I started the journey by seeing a doctor and starting with a battle plan.  I had medical support in my corner from day 1. What I think also helped, in some small way, was I was able to come to terms with my infertility slowly over my entire life but, on the other side of that coin, I feel like it is also what makes it hard for my pregnancy to sink in.  Basically for my whole life, I told myself I might not be able to have kids, so now that it’s happening it doesn’t feel real.

I’m hoping that once I can feel the baby moving, the reality will set in.  For now, I am optimistically excited and  I am trying to enjoy being pregnant (now that I have survived the first trimester).  I am getting antsy to start really planning a nursery and baby registries.  I want to create everything for my baby, so I feel like that is a good start.