Updated: August 15, 2015
Originally Published: July 7, 2015
As a mother, there are certain questions that I dread answering: When’s the next baby due? Well, that bump is the result of my first child and she’s now in preschool. When are you returning to work? Honestly, I’m just not prepared for that yet! And the most loaded question of all: Are you planning to have another child? Unless you have a box of tissues handy and a good chunk of time, let’s skip that conversation.
The moment my son was born, my overwhelming thought was, I want to do this again. The miracle of creation felt so profound, and the wave of love was intoxicating—I was instantly hooked. Unfortunately, I was already 40, and we had started our family later than most. So, as soon as it was feasible, we began trying for baby number two. When it didn’t happen straight away, panic set in (because, let’s face it, panic and conception don’t mix well), and I soon found myself consulting a fertility specialist. This journey involved tests, medications, injections, an unsuccessful insemination, three failed IVF attempts, and several early miscarriages. I explored vitamins, supplements, and even acupuncture. I lost weight, practiced yoga, tried eating pineapple cores, and prayed. I even gave up caffeine and alcohol for a year, only to realize that I’m not the friendliest person without my morning coffee.
We’re still trying—naturally—and the struggle is real. This experience is known as secondary infertility. You have one child and think, “Wow, my body can do this!” You might even ponder whether to have more. But while you’re entertaining thoughts of one more or possibly even ten more (with a partner who humorously thinks you’re a little crazy), your body might decide to go on strike. In my situation, declining egg quality is the issue. However, I also know younger mothers who are facing the same frustrating struggle. It’s disheartening not being able to create the family you envisioned.
As a mother, I yearn to provide my child with everything. I want my son to have a sibling. While he might not view that as a significant gift compared to his toys, I envision the long-term benefits. I grew up with a younger sister, and although we squabbled fiercely for years, we’ve become best friends. I understand I can’t guarantee a close sibling bond, but I want my child to have someone who knows him deeply—the one who shares the memories of growing up in our home and will be there when I’m no longer around.
This thought can become an obsessive worry for me. Any conversation with my partner about our fertility issues often leads to me tearfully expressing, “I don’t want him to be alone!” He reassures me that our child will have friends and love in his life. But as a mom, I crave that security.
Call me irrational (or laugh if you must), but I also want to experience the challenges of raising siblings. I can only imagine how much harder it may be than my current situation, but that’s my Everest. I long to tackle the chaos of schedules, sharing, and “it’s not fair” moments. I want to be that parent who sternly says, “I will turn this car around!” even though I’m not sure if backseat squabbles exist anymore, given the prevalence of bucket seats and tablets. I want to witness the differences and similarities between my children. I crave the messy, the chaotic, and the beautiful. Are you listening, ovaries?
One particularly challenging aspect of secondary infertility is that it feels like everyone around me is pregnant. I’m not exaggerating. As a parent of a preschooler, I find myself surrounded by moms who are either expecting or have just welcomed a new baby. Conversations at the playground often revolve around the right age gap between siblings or whether to pursue a third child. These seemingly harmless discussions can feel like humble brags to me. I’ve learned that it’s possible to feel genuine happiness for others while grappling with intense jealousy. At least there are always adorable babies to hold.
Then there’s the emotional burden of baby gear. Each time my child outgrows something, I wrestle with choices. Should I save toys and clothes for a potential sibling who may never arrive? What about the nursing bras and breast pump gathering dust in my closet? I ended up passing most of the outfits to a new niece and giving away the bulky swings to neighbors, but I can’t bring myself to part with the crib. It seems I’ll be vacuuming around that thing until menopause!
Emotional triggers lurk everywhere, and while I’m not shy about my feelings, finding solace isn’t always easy. Some friends avoid the topic of infertility as if it were contagious. When I do share our challenges, the well-meaning responses often include, “At least you have one child,” which only amplifies my guilt. I recognize that many couples would do anything for just one child, and I have single friends longing to be mothers who missed their biological clocks. In their presence, I sometimes feel like a glutton yearning for more.
I know that eventually, I will learn to accept our current reality if that’s what must be. It helps that my son is truly remarkable. Yes, he has his tantrums and his favorite word is “why,” but he is the most delightful, funny, and amazing person I could have hoped to bring into this world. I am fortunate. I am grateful.
Yet, when I watch him play pretend—feeding his “little brother,” a stuffed owl, and rocking him to sleep—it’s hard not to long for a real baby. I want to experience that miracle again, but this time with more confidence, less fear, and my son by my side.
For more insights on navigating parenting and taking a break, check out this resource from Intracervical Insemination. You might also find valuable information about fertility challenges at Drugs.com, which can help you understand the journey better. If you’re considering home insemination, you can explore options like the BabyMaker Home Intracervical Insemination Syringe Kit that might be helpful.
Summary:
This piece shares the emotional journey of a mother dealing with secondary infertility, highlighting the struggles and desires for a larger family. It explores the feelings of panic, guilt, and hope while navigating the challenges of an already fulfilled but longing heart. The narrative emphasizes the importance of sibling relationships and the emotional turmoil of seeing others easily conceive, all while appreciating the joy of the child already present.