I have debated long and hard about posting this...in fact it has
been written and sat in my draft posts for weeks. I may delete it, I
don't know.
There is an important story in our lives that I have neglected to
tell. For the last year and a half, Kev and I have been trying to have
another baby. I am still not pregnant. No underlying health
conditions, no reason for my lack of fecundity, just a quiet loss every
month when we realise that this time was not THE time.
Some days, I am grateful that nothing has happened. Ellis has a
ferocity and intensity I have never seen in another human being. Only
a handful of people have ever experienced the delightful, inquisitive
person he is because of the layers of sensitivities that are so often exposed to the world.
He is deeply attached to me and most days, even trips to the bathroom
are met with tears and wailing. He is the toddler whose presence in
public often gets a response of "you sure have your hands full
with that one!" There is no doubt that the absence of pregnancy or
another child makes riding out the challenging days easier. I also have more
time to do...more time to write, more time to think, more time to sew
or garden or read. I don't have to worry about repeat experiences of
the poor NHS care we received when Ellis was born or the possibility I
will not be able to hire my amazing independent midwife again due to
the UK government's short-sightedness around indemnity insurance.
Its also hard not to be grateful for the change in path my current
second childlessness has given me. I was going to be a Doula and an
Antenatal teacher...revisions of a long standing life plan that had
seen me becoming a midwife. When months and months of trying made it
too hard to continue down that path, I decided to move on. I now
realise it was a dream I held onto long past its relevancy because I
didn't know what else to do with myself. Letting that go gave me much
more time and energy to dig deeper into my own life...finding meaning
and enjoyment in the everyday. Gardening, writing, sewing...all
fantastic outlets for unspent creative energy. I am undoubtedly a
happier person today than I have ever been.
But the change in life-path has its down sides...hope is hard-won
yet easily lost. I grew up in a big family and had wished for one of
my own. Time moves quickly and numbers of biological children can no
longer be the certainty they once were, even if just in my own mind. I
frequently find myself changing my phrasing to, "if" we have another
baby. There are days I feel like a fraud, writing here about the happy
and good when in reality a huge amount of the drive comes from a deep
loss. I know that in the scheme of things a year and a half is
not long. I know that these things happen when its their own time.
I know that ideal age gaps and plans about when and where are
futile, but anyone who has been in a similar position knows that each
month is an eternity. "Ifs" have a tendency to turn into "Nevers" in
the quiet hours of the night.
All statistics point to our age and previous history of conception
as near certainties for future children. However, stats are more easily
believed in hindsight. Plus they have to combat with powerful cultural
messages that we are somehow faulty or broken...as if there is some
hidden dirty little secret that we harbour that is resulting in our
failure to conceive (Crack in the coffee?) . Maybe that is why
people don't talk about secondary infertility...or maybe its the fear
of pity. None the less, there is very little discussion in the
electronic or real world about the issue.
I had saved this post for so long because I wanted it to have a
happy ending. I wanted to present you with a beautiful tale of loss,
redemption and a little blue line. I hope that I can still do that one
day, but in the meanwhile I want to add my voice to the discussion-
always, always with the hope that telling my own story can help someone
else tell theirs. There are so many things in my life that have grown
in the absence of another child, things I will be eternally grateful
for. But I am glad I don't have to make a choice about which path I
would prefer.
And so, I push publish.
