A few months ago, while consulting with my OB-GYN about our family planning, the term “secondary infertility” was introduced to me. My partner and I had decided two years back that we were ready to expand our family and welcome baby number two. The anticipation was palpable, yet as the months slipped by, our eagerness morphed into anxiety and disappointment. Now, two years later, we’re left grappling with heartache and no baby in sight.
Our first child, a daughter, came to us after about nine months of trying and some cycles of Clomid. This time, I assumed the same route would yield similar results. My doctor promptly placed me back on Clomid, but, alas, the outcome was not what we had hoped for.
After six months of Clomid and a slew of lab tests, our doctor suggested artificial insemination. To be frank, we felt unsure about this recommendation. I did my homework and discovered that the success rates for the procedure hover between 10% and 20%. Given the costs and the low likelihood of success, we opted to continue trying the traditional way.
In my quest for conception, I experimented with acupuncture, massages, essential oils, and even some rather ludicrous old wives’ tales (yes, I ate my fair share of pineapple!). I even consulted a psychic who promised I’d be pregnant by fall, or else I’d need another reading! I was on the lookout for any sign—a divine message that our dream of expanding our family would soon materialize. Unfortunately, if there was a sign, I completely missed it.
I meticulously tracked my cycles, took ovulation tests, and reminded my partner that it was time for, shall we say, scheduled intimacy. It’s quite the experience when those intimate moments coincide with marital disagreements. I can’t be the only one who’s had to navigate this awkward territory.
I recognize that many couples have faced infertility for much longer than we have, and there are days when I question whether I have the right to feel this way, especially since we already have a child. Yet, I reflect on the burden I carry and the tears shed—not just my own, but my partner’s as well. Why should anyone have to justify their grief?
A year ago, we agreed to reassess our efforts by the end of this year, and here we are. My emotions fluctuate daily, sometimes hourly. There are days when I feel grateful for our family of three, and others when I mourn the fact that I’ve been unable to give my daughter a sibling. I never envisioned our family being complete with just one child; that wasn’t part of the plan. Accepting the reality that I have no control over this situation has been immensely challenging. Each month, as I muster the courage to take a pregnancy test and receive another negative result, the pain intensifies. How much longer can I pass by an empty crib? Should I continue holding onto baby toys and those adorable tiny outfits?
Few truly comprehend the depth of my sorrow. Believe me, it runs deep. The heartbreak is something I feel within my very bones. I am fortunate to have a supportive circle of friends who have listened to me, cried alongside me, and lifted me up. It seems that most people hesitate to inquire about family planning, not wanting to tread on sensitive ground. I understand this instinct, but I also believe that these conversations should not be taboo. For a long time, I kept quiet about our struggles, fearing that speaking it would somehow jinx our chances. Yet, after months of grappling with this alone, I realized I needed to share our journey. No one should suffer in silence.
Occasionally, people offer platitudes like “just relax, and it will happen,” but those words ring hollow. What do you say to a friend who just experienced a failed IVF cycle or suffered a miscarriage? There’s little that can be said to ease their pain. I often found myself ruminating on phrases like “if it’s meant to be” or “everything happens for a reason.” But what reason could there be for our struggles with conception? Am I a bad person? A poor parent? Do I have bad karma? What did I do wrong? Eventually, I came to realize that sometimes there’s simply no reason at all. Life can be unfair, and that’s simply the reality—can I get an amen?
We find ourselves in a life stage where friends and family are welcoming new babies, which is a bittersweet experience. I hope that one day, this burden will lift, and I can fully grieve the dream I had for our family. I wish to embrace acceptance of things as they are. After all, moments—both good and bad—are fleeting.
For more information on artificial insemination options, check out Cryobaby’s Home Intra-Cervical Insemination Syringe Kit and BabyMaker’s Home Intra-Cervical Insemination Syringe Kit, both excellent resources. For additional insights on pregnancy and home insemination, consider visiting Healthline.
Summary
Navigating secondary infertility can be a deeply emotional and isolating experience. This journey is marked by fluctuating hopes, heartbreak, and the challenge of accepting what feels beyond our control. While many couples face similar struggles, it’s important to share these experiences and support one another.
Keyphrase: secondary infertility support
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