Over the years, it’s been quite noticeable to those around us that my partner and I have opted for just one child. A few intrepid souls, often complete strangers, have even asked if we plan on expanding our family.
When I’m feeling particularly jovial, I might retort with something cheeky like, “Are you looking to sell any of yours?” or “I’ve been trying to find the right model on eBay, but it’s tough!” More often than not, however, my humor tends to dwindle as the day wears on.
People seem to feel entitled to delve into personal matters when they see you have only one child. Questions arise that would typically remain unspoken unless fueled by a few drinks—perhaps a shot of tequila or two. Discussions about politics might be avoided unless you’ve known someone for a lifetime, yet when it comes to family size, the barriers tumble down. These are the same individuals who feel compelled to touch a pregnant woman’s belly or comment on your grocery choices.
“Why are you buying 14 grapefruits?”
“No, I’m actually leasing them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a life to live.”
It often begins with an observation like, “So, just the one child…”—implying there must be a significant reason behind our decision. Instead of responding with the maturity expected of someone my age, I resort to passive-aggressive humor.
“Yep, my ability to have more kids fizzled out after my time in Vietnam, but I’d march back if they ever called. It’s hard to find true Vietnamese cuisine here.”
“My partner and I figured the world has enough white folks already, and we weren’t inclined to adopt. All the good Asian babies seem to be taken.”
“I had to hire a street performer to get my wife pregnant with this one. Twice! If anyone tells you they’ll do it for a sandwich, they’re pulling your leg.”
I recognize that most of these inquiries aren’t meant to be rude, but that’s not how I perceive them. The truth is, my partner and I would love to have another child—perhaps even two. However, our age, financial situation, and some existing health issues make that unlikely.
It took us quite some time to conceive our daughter, Lily. I can’t say I’m particularly eager to go through that journey again. We tracked basal body temperatures, meticulously timed cycles, and even performed some quirky rituals (like burying a bucket of fried chicken under a full moon) to enhance our chances. While it led to some rather lackluster intimacy, it didn’t yield many children.
To complicate matters, it turns out that the male anatomy can be rather unpredictable under stress. One minute, it’s ready for action, and the next, it’s more like trying to shove a marshmallow through a coin slot.
Ladies, if you’re ever tempted to ask, “Is everything okay?”—don’t.
“Yeah, everything’s just peachy. I always get flaccid before I finish. If you really want to help, let’s talk about my mother.”
My partner faced her own challenges, which I won’t detail out of respect. However, the complexities of the female reproductive system can become quite the labyrinth, akin to an aging vehicle that starts having issues.
Eventually, we sought professional help and underwent several rounds of IVF. That story is too lengthy for this article, but let me assure you, if someone tells you that administering nightly injections to your partner brings you closer, they’re mistaken. After four years and numerous specialists, we ended up with six viable embryos. Unfortunately, due to an error, four of them were thawed for our first implant instead of the two we requested. None took, and the remaining embryos didn’t survive the freezing process.
Our daughter, Lily, was the result of the last implantation. We had prepared for disappointment when the doctor called, asking both of us to be on the line. We braced ourselves for bad news.
“Lily is on the way,” we heard, both incredulous and in disbelief.
Even after confirmation, it took us time to accept the reality of our pregnancy. Regardless of our doubts, our daughter arrived ten months later.
As for expanding our family, we’ve had conversations about it. We no longer take precautions during those rare moments when we find the energy for intimacy. Even then, the odds of conceiving resemble the Polish cavalry facing Nazi tanks—definitely not in our favor.
We’ve contemplated adoption but decided against it. I like to think of myself as patient, yet I fear I might harbor resentment if challenges arise, which would ultimately affect Lily. Given that many children face issues at some point, adoption feels like a gamble I’m not willing to take. It’s not a particularly enlightened stance, but I’ve learned that acknowledging my limitations is more manageable than dealing with the complications later on.
Adoption is off the table, and IVF isn’t a viable option either. The process is too intensive, costly, and frankly exhausting for someone of my age and limited patience. IVF comes with no guarantees, and we’ve experienced enough uncertainty already.
After much discussion, we’ve concluded that our focus should be on raising our daughter. Instead of pouring time, energy, and resources into the uncertain journey of IVF, we prefer to dedicate ourselves to nurturing the child we already have.
For those interested in exploring options like at-home insemination, this post provides valuable insights. Additionally, this resource offers comprehensive information on pregnancy and artificial insemination. And for those navigating parenting challenges, Potty Training Solutions is a great authority on the topic.
In summary, while we once considered expanding our family, we have found contentment in raising our daughter, Lily. Our experiences and limitations have led us to focus on providing her with the love and attention she deserves, rather than chasing uncertain possibilities.