A few months ago, during a routine appointment with my OB-GYN, I was introduced to the term “secondary infertility.” My partner and I had made the decision two years earlier that we were ready to expand our family and eagerly anticipated welcoming a second child. However, as the months passed without success, our initial excitement gave way to anxiety and disappointment. Now, two years later, we find ourselves grappling with heartache and uncertainty.
Our daughter, now four, was conceived after about nine months and several rounds of Clomid. This time, my doctor prescribed Clomid immediately, and I assumed it would yield similar results. Unfortunately, that was not the case. After six months of Clomid and various lab tests, our physician suggested artificial insemination. However, we felt unsure about this approach, especially given its 10-20% success rate and the associated costs. So, we decided to continue trying the traditional method.
In my quest for answers, I explored alternative therapies like acupuncture and massage, experimented with essential oils, and even tried some quirky old wives’ tales (pineapple, anyone?). I even consulted a psychic who confidently predicted I would be pregnant by fall or else she would refund my reading. I found myself yearning for a sign—any sign—from God that our dream of another child was still alive. Yet, if there was a sign, it eluded me.
Tracking my cycles and using ovulation tests became routine, and I often had to remind my partner of the importance of “timed intercourse.” It’s a unique challenge when those moments coincide with marital disagreements! I know many couples face much longer struggles with infertility, and some days I question whether I even have the right to feel this way, especially since we already have a daughter. Yet, the weight of my heartache and the tears shed by both my partner and me are valid. Why should anyone feel the need to justify their grief?
About a year ago, we agreed to try until the end of this year, and here we are. My emotions shift daily, sometimes hourly. Some moments, I feel gratitude for our family of three; other times, I mourn the sibling I wish I could give my daughter. I never envisioned our family being complete with just one child; that was never the plan. Coming to terms with the fact that this situation is beyond my control has been incredibly challenging. Each month, the courage needed to take a pregnancy test grows heavier, particularly when the result is negative. How much longer can I bear to walk past an empty crib? Should I hold onto baby toys, bottles, and those tiny clothes a little longer?
The depth of my pain is not visible to everyone. It’s profound, a heartbreak I feel in my core. I have a supportive circle of friends who have listened, cried, and stood by me. While many people are hesitant to inquire about family planning, aware of the struggles others may face, I believe we should not shy away from discussing these topics. For a long time, I kept our attempts private, fearing jinxing our chances. But as time passed, I recognized the need to share our struggles. It’s crucial that friends, siblings, or even acquaintances don’t have to suffer in silence.
People would often tell me to “stop worrying, and it will happen.” Such phrases, while well-meaning, can feel hollow. What do you say to someone whose IVF attempt has failed or who has experienced a miscarriage? There are no easy answers; sometimes, you just want to say something that might ease their pain. I found myself reflecting on phrases like “everything happens for a reason.” But then I wondered, what reason was there for our inability to conceive? Am I a bad person or parent? What did I do wrong? Eventually, I came to understand that sometimes there isn’t a clear reason. Life is not fair, and that’s simply the reality of it.
As we navigate a phase where friends and family are welcoming new babies, it’s a bittersweet experience—one filled with excitement yet tinged with sadness. I hope that one day, this longing will fade, allowing me to fully grieve the dream of a larger family and accept our reality. After all, even difficult moments are fleeting.
If you’re considering options like at-home insemination, resources like this blog post on artificial insemination kits can provide helpful insights. Additionally, for those dealing with conditions like PCOS, this site on understanding PCOS and fertility offers valuable information. For comprehensive guidance on fertility treatments, check out this excellent resource on IVF.
In summary, secondary infertility is a complex and emotionally charged journey that many face. It’s essential to communicate and share experiences, as doing so can alleviate some of the burdens we carry.