I’m done. This is the final month I’ll be trying to conceive. After this, I’m ready to embrace life without the stress of fertility struggles. I’ll savor every glass of wine, tackle that stubborn baby weight from my first child, indulge in coffee as much as I want, and take whatever supplements I fancy without worrying about their impact on my chances of getting pregnant. That’s it. After this month, I’m moving on.
For 39 years, I enjoyed being single until a chance encounter with an old friend at a bar changed everything. Within six months, we were cohabitating, and just three months later, we discovered we were expecting. We got married and welcomed a beautiful baby girl into our lives when I was 40.
Then, just six months later, I found out I was pregnant again—and honestly, I was terrified. The first six months of parenthood were challenging, and at my eight-week ultrasound, the baby measured only six weeks. I experienced a miscarriage, which felt more numb than heartbreaking. I thought we could conceive again, so we kept trying.
I stocked up on ovulation sticks and pregnancy tests, eagerly looking for any signs each month. I became engrossed in articles about getting pregnant over 40. A year later, my husband and I spent $250 on a fertility doctor who bluntly told us our chances of conceiving naturally were slim due to our age. I was furious and wanted a refund. Despite the advice, we opted to continue trying on our own.
By summer, I felt the need to take a break and embarked on a rigorous diet to shed the baby weight. At the end of July, I missed my period and found out I was pregnant again. We were ecstatic—defying the odds, we thought! But at seven weeks, I started bleeding heavily and ended up in the emergency room. To our shock, the ultrasound revealed a healthy fetus with a heartbeat. We scheduled another appointment two weeks later, but tragically, there was no heartbeat at that visit. Again, I felt an overwhelming sadness without the tears.
It’s peculiar losing a baby at just 11 weeks; there’s no visible evidence, yet everything in your world has shifted. I can’t help but feel heavy when I see pregnant women or newborns while dropping my daughter off at preschool. It stings to see friends and neighbors announce their pregnancies, especially the one who swore she was only having one child.
I want to be happy for them, and I suppose I am. Yet, I also feel the weight of disappointment. I often think I should have had my second baby by now! If I share my miscarriage story, I’m met with awkward silence—people don’t know how to respond, and it makes the pain linger. I’ve regained the weight I lost on my diet, leaving me feeling heavier than ever.
Since October, my husband and I have been trying again, following the doctor’s green light. I monitor my ovulation with sticks and an app, ensuring we’re intimate every other day during my fertile window. Each month, I hope for a positive pregnancy test, but so far, my period returns.
I dreamed of a magical rainbow baby and calculated every month when the due date would be. I wished on dandelions, shooting stars, and even consulted an online magic eight ball, which told me “outlook not good.” Could it be that the fertility doctor’s advice holds some truth? Honestly, I’m weary of rehashing “getting pregnant over 40” articles. Maybe it’s time for more coffee, wine, and less heartache. Life may just roll on with the three of us, right? Next on my search list: “amazing only children” and “famous only children.”
After this month.
In summary, navigating the ups and downs of trying to conceive later in life can be emotionally exhausting. While I grapple with loss and disappointment, I’m also contemplating a future where I embrace life as it is, with my wonderful daughter by my side. If you’re facing similar challenges, there are resources available, like those at Cleveland Clinic’s podcast on IVF and fertility preservation, and insightful articles on fertility supplements that can support your journey.
Keyphrase: Trying to conceive after 40
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]