“Making the decision to have a child – it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ”
– Elizabeth Stone
Parenting after infertility isn’t the raw, serrated pain that never goes away. It’s a dull ache that flares up occasionally, like old bones before a thunderstorm.
Sometimes that ache is two-pronged: the initial gut-punch upon hearing a new birth or pregnancy announcement, followed by waves of guilt. I have my baby. I shouldn’t feel this way. Am I not thankful enough? A chorus of infertility voices murmur, At least you HAVE a baby!
The gut-punch may be Pavlovian, but the residual grief is rational. The guilt is like an itchy scarf that irritates your neck even after you’ve taken it off. It’s a hard spell to break.
Of course I am thankful. Even in my moments of sleep-deprived and/or hungry frustration I — not usually a patient person — find it easy(ish) to take a deep breath and remind myself, Hey, I get to do this! Because ‘this’ is way more rewarding than dozens of injections and invasive procedures.
That little piece of my heart is upstairs, sleeping. She brings so much joy into my life that I miss her when I’m not with her.
But the flip side of joy is wondering when it’ll all come crashing down. The few recent pregnancy announcements tie into this new fear.
I’ll back up.
Despite all our little embryos, we might not have a second child. It makes me sad to think I might not experience pregnancy again. I’ve stalled a bit on baby-led weaning because it signals the beginning of the end of breastfeeding, the one thing my body has got right. (Yes, I carried V to term, but it wasn’t a straightforward pregnancy.)
I am terrified at the thought of having a stillborn baby or dying myself. I don’t relish the thought of a hysterectomy, but I know I’ll be okay as long as they don’t touch my ovaries or cervix. A second pregnancy would likely mean a lot of fear and worry for the whole nine months. (Surrogacy is not an option due to the hideous expense. And, fuckingdamnit, I’ve already spent enough money.)
So, assuming V is the only child we’ll have… even if I were to die before her and at a ripe old age, the fact that we will one day no longer be together makes me very sad. So my new fear is that my sweet girl will be taken from me. Just like that.
I’m a pretty relaxed mom, actually. I’m happy for other people to hold her. I don’t mind strangers touching her as long as it’s not her hands or face. If something falls on the floor, I don’t sterilise it unless it’s fallen onto a public floor. Maybe if she were a sickly child I would be disinfecting her toys, but my girl is robust. Besides, she’s going to put all sorts of dreadful things in her mouth. I can’t control everything, so better she build up her immune system. See? I acknowledge there is so much I can’t control. But the thought that she might die of something so random or, worse, so mundane, is sometimes all I can think about. I say Sometimes, because these thoughts do not consume me all day long, or even every day. They’re not paralysing, but I am stricken in horrible anti-fantasies. The horrible what ifs.
What if I am incapable of raising a daughter to have a healthy body image? What if she is bullied? What if she is a bully? What if our plane crashes when we go to San Francisco in a couple of weeks? What if she drowns during our upcoming swimming lessons? What if she drowns because even though she was in my arms I wasn’t paying close enough attention? Is that possible, a quick and silent drowning? Is this postpartum depression manifesting as anxiety? Or is this simply being a parent and having a little piece of your heart walking around outside your body?
I’m just catching up on my reading, so I know I’m a bit late to the party here, but I had to comment anyway. I am almost constantly haunted by visions of awful things happening to Amelia. I hear about something happening to a child on the news, and my mind automatically pictures the same thing happening to my daughter (the most recent one was just this morning- a mother near here accidentally ran over her 5-year-old son with her car. He didn’t survive). It’s a horrible burden, but I think it’s part of the package that we sign up for when we become parents. Perhaps it is a bit more acute for those of us who suffered from infertility (for a whole host of reasons), but I think it is definitely a reality for every parent. I don’t think it’s necessarily a sign of PPD (which definitely can manifest as anxiety!), but if it starts affecting how you live your life, I would definitely talk to someone.
And I still struggle with second pregnancy announcements. We stopped trying for baby #2 more than two years ago, and hubby had a vasectomy last year. My reproductive days are well behind me, yet I can’t let go of that little hint of melancholy that overtakes me every time I see someone getting exactly what I wanted, but couldn’t have. And lately, I have been watching Amelia interact with younger children a lot, and she is so good with them- patient and gentle. I think it’s a crime that she didn’t get to be a big sister. So it hurts. Obviously, I have no helpful thoughts here- I just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone. Hugs!
Lauren I am going to email you when I get a moment, but in the meantime am sending you a very un-British hug and a thankyou once again for sharing. I literally could have written this post myself (although not so eloquently!) and it feels hugely comforting to know that I am not alone in feeling this way. x
Your thoughts all sound very familiar. I too have fears of losing AJ, and I think deep down they are coming from a fear that “I don’t deserve this” which leads to “I’m going to do something wrong, something horribly wrong” or “Even if I do everything right, something horrible and random will happen to take her away, because that’s what the world is like, random.” I do know these thoughts are irrational so that does help me to recognize and control them. Then there is just the general sense of human mortality, which I think you are also getting at. A child is a joyful thing, but her very existence is a reminder of our eventual death….which would have happened anyway, but looking at your proposed “replacement” makes it all the more real. Second pregnancy announcement triggers….oh gawd yes. All the time. The last two I saw were for “October 2015.” My first thought? How dare you take my daughter’s birthday month! Friggin copycats! LOL. And yes I feel bad about it…because I know I’m lucky to have one living child, and people are not to blame for being able to procreate, blah blah blah. But the emotions are still there. I think the feelings you talk about are normal in the IF community, and to some extent with all parents….I wouldn’t consider it chronic anxiety or depression unless you are thinking/feeling it constantly, but if so then maybe.
Finally caught up to the last post. Thank you so much for the beautiful raw rollercoaster that really helps someone like myself at the early stages of conceiving via donor egg. I’m half way through my Lupron phase and have a little over 3 weeks till transfer. I’m not yet pregnant, but the idea of doing it twice already terrifies me, I’m fairly settled, that if we want a second baby (assuming we have a first) then we would adopt, probably a slightly older child, maybe 5yo, DH is on board with that plan. I love the idea, that we would all be connected by love, more than anything else.
I think that your fears are valid, and are fears a lot of parents have. We all worry about raising confident kids that are productive members of society (no one wants to raise the next Charlie Manson!) Whenever I drive, I often play scenarios in my head about what I would do if we were in a car accident and how I would get to Kieran to rescue him.
I think that a lot of people who are pregnant after infertility have these thoughts because the idea of another child is so daunting and seems impossible. I often wonder what my thoughts would be if a second child was (almost) a guarantee, like it seems to be with people who don’t struggle.
Have you thought about talking to a professional? It doesn’t seem like your thoughts are hindering your everyday life, but talking may allow you to think them less. Always here for you if you want to talk <3
Funny that you mention post pardom depression. Lately I’ve been questioning that myself. I’m not sure if that’s what it is or or not. I do have a lot of emotions though when thinking about not having anymore kids. We have 1 frozen and that’s it!! But still lately I’ve been very weepy. A girl at work is pregnant. She lost twins a couple years ago at 21 weeks. I am very happy for her but still a bit jealous and I hate myself for that.