It was never really a secret on this blog that we had a difficult time conceiving. We were told I would never get pregnant without fertility treatment and that isn’t a sure thing.
14 months later, we found out we were really, really lucky. I was fortunate to conceive without ART, but we were getting very close to finally taking the Clomid my gynecologist at the time was pushing. I spent my entire (abbreviated) pregnancy holding my breath because I was so sure this would end in another loss. And while I do have a baby in my arms finally, the pain and uncertainty of trying to conceive and pregnancy after infertility has never quite left my mind.
The hardest part about infertility was feeling like I was completely alone. It’s not something people talk about openly and most people are woefully ignorant of infertility etiquette. The worst part was that everyone felt free to ask us if we wanted kids or why it was taking us so long to get around to having them (we were married in 2007). Those questions are, frankly, never appropriate. And first person to ask about baby #2 will probably take a good hard knock to the head.
We were lucky to have this baby. We aren’t assuming anything about being able to conceive another one (side note: we also realize I could get pregnant the first time if we have another baby, so we are still being careful. Just because the first baby was easy/hard to conceive doesn’t mean that will be true the second time). I’ve been lucky enough to at least get a real diagnosis, while so many infertiles are stuck with “unexplained” infertility, meaning they’ll never know what the cause is. That being said, they probably can’t fix my septate uterus, so we assume that it could be a problem the next time.
Don’t ignore infertility and pregnancy loss. It’s time to start talking about it openly so we can remove the shame and loneliness that comes with it.