Primary infertility is fearing what you’ll never get to experience.
Secondary infertility is knowing what you’re missing.
These aren’t my words…these are from a fellow blogger who published a post on scary mommy recently (When you are dealing with infertility the second time around). And these are perfect words to sum up where I am and where this blog is.
I remember saying to someone who was about to go into surrogacy for a second time around…”At least you have your daughter to remind you when you are in the trenches of how success can happen”. I kind of cringe a little now looking back on that because I said that when I had ZERO children. I understand differently now, that there is no “At Least…” Every single infertility journey is different and comes with their own individual aches and pains that make it so hard for there ever to be an “At least…”. There just isn’t.
If someone told me now “At least you have Aviana…” I’d probably politely agree and say “yes, I am lucky”. Because I AM LUCKY. I know that of course. But the “at least” part negates or nullifies all the pain of infertility. A slight of words, an unknowing stab in the heart.
Here’s the thing. IF I was fertile, I would be happy to wait much longer to try for a second baby. I would of course be three years younger, so age wouldn’t be of a concern to me. I would wait because I would want my body to recover from child birth and breastfeeding. And to ensure that I don’t have two under two – because I don’t have the patience of a saint, quite frankly (Much kudos to you parents that do!). I would wait so I can catch up a bit on my career…because maternity leave DOES impact it. I would do more research on IUGR and see how we could prevent it or manage it better. These are MY personal feelings, Chris has other feelings too about it all, some are similar, some differ, but they are not for me to share with the world.
The option to build my family when I want to is not an easy one. I know that time is ticking. My eggs are declining in quality and my body races towards the menopause.
You see, with infertility the first time, it was a genuine fear that I would never become a mother. It was a completely valid feeling. What’s different now, is that second time around I do know what I am missing. I know what it is like to carry a baby and to fall in love with it. Despite all the pain and challenges, I would do it all again. I’d face those mountains. I’d be better prepared and I’ll never have that fear that I won’t become a mother because I already am. So if you see me in the infertility trenches some time in the future, remind me that. May be it will help. May be it won’t. But until I am there I cannot possibly know, because every infertility journey is different.