Getting pregnant wasn't easy for me the second time. But that experience made me more compassionate for those who struggle with infertility.
Apparently, having unprotected sex does not guarantee a baby
My fears about unplanned pregnancies
Highschool sex education instilled a fear in me about doing the deed. Having sex is riddled with disease, viruses and teenaged pregnancies.
As a young woman, having an unwanted pregnancy meant your future is ruined; it’s the end of pursuing a robust career, no further education, no capacity to do anything more in life aside from caring for this blob of flesh that will suck your energy dry.
Abortions, although legal in Canada at the time (Thank goodness), weren’t talked about. It was something that was shamefully done in secret. No celebrities came out to talk about it. No TV shows or movies portrayed the reality of making the choice appropriately.
Threats, warnings, precautions were what my fearmongering Physical Education (PE) teachers lectured on and on about.
First, it was a bit of anatomy. There were some black and white photos of naked Caucasian males and females with arrows pointing to the genitals. There were diagrams of what the reproductive systems looked like from the inside, again with the labels and arrows. The teacher gave us brief descriptions of the types of intercourse, oral, anal and vaginal.
Then, it was informing and educating us about all the different methods of contraception and the effectiveness of each, with abstinence at 100%.
If you’re going to do it, you might as well be informed about how to do it safely.
I remember there was a show and tell of expired male and female condoms, a dingy diaphragm, a plastic case of birth control pills from the ’80s, a copper IUD in a ziplock bag and a tube of spermicide. Lastly, we practiced putting condoms on wooden penises and called it a day. Shockingly, this was the early 2000’s.
What about orgasms? Pleasure? Masturbation?
Sexuality? Consent?
Asking for what you want? Saying no to what you don’t want?
I certainly hope the curriculum has been updated since I was in school.
Bleh…another post for another day.
It was easy at first…
Jump forward 15 years from that dreadful class, I’m married and ready to start a family. I was ‘careful’ up until this point; I had been taking the pill religiously, condoms stocked and ready to go. I wanted to finish grad school; then it was making a good dent in my career and of course, meeting the right man before putting a vacancy sign in my uterus. Now it was time to do the ‘scary thing’, have unprotected sex to create that little bundle of joy.
3 months of casual trying and BAM!, I’m carrying my daughter in my belly.
We’re overjoyed when she was born. I had a healthy pregnancy and aside from the ups and downs of motherhood, I really embraced being a mom. I grew into my own and that journey allowed me to rediscover my passion for writing and starting my blog, Sum (heart) On Sleeve.
We were a happy family of 3 and ready to give our daughter a sibling, a little partner in crime, to vent and side with against the parents. We needed and wanted that 4th player to make those Catan games more interesting.
Will they gang up on us or get competitive with one another?
Will they trade their wood with their dear mom who breastfed them until her nipples were raw?
Will they share secrets with each other but keep them from us?
Then, it wasn’t so easy…
I wanted that coveted 2-year gap between siblings. I thought it was the right amount of time since they would be close enough to become friends but far enough apart to feel like I gave my firstborn the much-needed attention. So we started trying. Having gotten pregnant in a mere 3 months the last time around set my expectations high.
However, after 3 months, I was still getting my period. I was slightly disappointed but hopeful. Things don’t always work out the way you think they do but staying positive will get me there.
Another 3 months pass and I start to panic. I’m worried and my brain goes down rabbit holes of doom.
Why isn’t it happening? Is there something wrong with me? With him?
We won’t make the 2 year gap? Will 2.5 years be the same?
What are we doing differently?
What did we do last time? I don’t even remember now.
I made an appointment with my doctor. She orders a blood test to see if anything is abnormal. I go to my follow-up appointment to go over the results.
Everything is normal. There was no problem to solve. No actions assigned except to keep trying.
My doctor asks me if I had been tracking my cycle. I hadn’t. So she explained to me about the ovulation window and told me about the sticks.
For those who don’t know, there is an optimal time during the menstrual cycle where a woman’s body is primed to get pregnant (Around 14 days before a period starts). It’s at peak fertility and peeing on a stick determines this.
So it’s not just about peeing on a stick to see if you’re pregnant. You also get to pee on a stick to see if you’re ovulating. And when you’re actually pregnant, you get to pee in a cup, A LOT. Then when you’re a parent, you get peed on a lot.
Okay, enough about urine.
Trying for a baby isn’t a project you leave on the side of your desk
When people ask whether you’re trying for a baby, a second baby, a third…what they’re really asking you is:
“Are you having sex? Lots and lots of sex?”
Because that’s what is needed when you are trying to conceive. Unless you’re extremely lucky and get it on the first couple of tries, you have to do it, A LOT!
According to the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE):
“Most couples (about 84 out of every 100) will get pregnant within a year if they have regular sex and don’t use contraception.”
“Having regular sex means having sex every 2 to 3 days throughout the month.”
Maybe you’re in a relationship where you have a robust sex life and that’s nothing for you; however, for two busy, working professionals who are chasing around a 2-year-old in the evenings, that is A LOT.
It’s not something you can postpone or put on the side of your desk. It’s like managing an entire project that has repetitive tasks with uncertain deadlines. You have to keep doing them without knowing when you can stop. You have to schedule it in, making time to get under the sheets and most importantly, continuing to initiate even when you’re both exhausted. It puts a strain on a relationship, with the potential for resentment, disappointment and hurt feelings.
“We need to do it. We didn’t do it the last few nights.”
“Yeah, I know. Fine, we’ll do it after we finish this episode.”
“Do you even want a baby?
“I can’t believe you’re asking me this.”
“I always have to initiate.”
“Why are you acting like this? I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“YEAH…MAYBE WE SHOULD STOP TRYING.”
“Fine by me!”
It takes work, not just the physical deed but it put me through an emotional and mental rollercoaster.
The clock kept ticking; the pressure fell heavier and heavier with each unsuccessful month. I knew that the longer we were trying, the probability of getting pregnant decreased:
According to an article published in 2012 by the PLOS journal, scientists figured out a formula that determines a woman’s odds of conceiving, combining information about how fertility drops with age with the length of time a woman has been trying to start a family.
For instance, a 35-year-old woman who has been trying for 3 months has a 12% chance of getting pregnant.
At 12 months of trying, it drops to 6%.
Just relax! It’s supposed to be fun…eyeroll
Sure…it’s fun in the beginning. It’s exciting to make a baby. And having lots of sex with the person you want to create this life with sounds like an exhilarating adventure.
But those who never had trouble conceiving don’t know how frustrating it is when you’re told to relax. I want to shove a pair of socks (or better yet, a box of ovulation sticks) in their mouths.
It’s like when you’re in the middle of an argument and the other person tells you to,
“Take a chill pill! Calm down! Relax!”
It makes you more riled up, adding fuel to the fire. No, telling someone to relax only makes it worse.
A late period led to false hope…
There was one month when I was late. I wanted to wait 5 days before taking a test because then the result would be certain given the levels of hCG it could detect.
The first day was full of anxiety. I kept going to the bathroom to see if it had come but it didn’t.
The next day was a bit of excitement but still, realistic…maybe I am? But probably not…
By the third day, I was getting hopeful, trying to guess the due date and looking up what astrological sign and which Chinese zodiac animal the little bud will be.
After the fourth day, I started feeling bloated and tired. I was certain I was pregnant.
Then 5 days after my missed period, I took a pregnancy test. It was negative. I thought this couldn’t be true, that it was a false negative.
The next day, I took another test. Still negative.
Stay positive…instead, it’s okay to not be okay
I was extremely disappointed. I was a week late when I saw the blood in the toilet; I immediately started my tactics. I told myself,
“Let’s bounce back from this. We can do it!”
You know, the positive self-talk, amping yourself up when you’re feeling down. I reassured myself that I did everything I possibly could. I told myself this is something I could not have controlled, reminding myself to not be so hard on myself.
I practiced gratitude, reminding myself there are couples who don’t even have kids and have been trying for way longer than me. I glazed over the details of what happened because I thought the quicker I could change my mindset and recover, the quicker I could “correct” those negative feelings. I realized I was coping with these feelings by minimizing them.
As a recovering perfectionist, I am always aware of the expectations that I set for myself. It’s not that I don’t set them high; I make sure they are realistic, trusting myself that I can manage if I don’t meet them.
I did all those things but I didn’t feel any better. I still felt like shit. And I dreaded starting the next cycle. The hormonal effects of having a period (PMS) amplifies how disheartening I felt about not being pregnant.
You’re a mom already! Stop complaining!
It was hard for me to truly feel the disappointment because I already had a child, that my sadness wasn’t worthy compared to others who had been through the trenches of infertility and unsuccessful rounds of IVF.
However, it wasn’t fair to me to compare. I needed to emotionally validate myself, convince my mind that those feelings were justified; I don’t always have to be positive and happy. It’s okay not to be okay all the time. I needed to embrace the negative feelings.
When other moms announce their second pregnancies
During this time, several of my mom friends started announcing their second pregnancies. Some of them had kids younger than mine. I wanted to be extremely happy for them, celebrating their news, sharing their joy; however, it was hard not to be jealous, to want what they have, to feel like it’s not fair, making their wonderful news about my pain and suffering.
The haves and the have nots…
I tried to be supportive, asking all the questions, from due dates, names, whether they’re finding out the gender, pregnancy symptoms, differences with the first etc; however, I became toxic, going down rabbit holes of trying to justify their pregnancies, that they actually deserved happiness.
And for some reason, social media was bombarding me with baby announcements. It’s like the more you try not to think about something, the more you attract it.
“Everyone else is getting pregnant except me!”
Eventually, I had to reduce contact with pregnant women and remove myself from being subject to pictures of bumps, babies, families with more than one kid etc.
I remember at work, there was a woman who was pregnant with her second who worked on a different floor but would use our kitchen space. She said it was because it gave her an excuse to go for a walk. Every time I saw her, I would go to the bathroom before going into the lunchroom to minimize the baby talk. Because everyone loves to talk to a pregnant woman. They’re the talk of the town.
The hardest part was my biggest fear…
For me, seeing my daughter grow up was the hardest part. Both my husband and I grew up with siblings. Although we don’t always get along, my sisters were something I leaned on during times I couldn’t talk to my parents.
I wanted that for her. I wanted to give her a little buddy, a teammate, an ally when she thought we were being mean and unreasonable. And when the time came and both my husband and I have passed on, she had someone to discuss our affairs with, that it wasn’t all on her to take on. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to offer her this.
It happens when you least expect it
We’ve all heard the stories,
“We had given up hope.”
“We thought we were done trying.”
“…But then it happened when we least expected it.”
And when I heard couples tell me that, my face would show enthusiasm but I was a skeptic inside.
However, that was us.
After almost a year of trying, I took a mental break from thinking about it. The constant up and down of mustering hope after each disappointing month was tearing me down. I stopped tracking whether we were trying regularly. I stopped calculating the days in my cycle. I threw that box of ovulation sticks to the back of my cabinet.
I took a leave of absence from work.
It gave me the time and space to really practice the much-needed self-care. I ate better. I practiced mindfulness throughout the day. I exercised consistently. I slept soundly. I meditated while I waited for my daughter to fall asleep. I baked my heart out. I cooked the meals that would take forever to make. I went for walks, lots and lots of walks. I wrote, created, recorded. I was fueling my heart, mind and soul, taking care of myself in ways that I should have been for years.
About a month into my leave, I went to the indoor play gym with my daughter and I remember feeling very cold even though I was wearing 3 layers. And then a couple of weeks later, I missed my period.
Second pregnancies are like movie sequels
When I took that pregnancy test, it was surreal to see the positive result. I was happy yet cautious. Telling my family was anticlimactic. It’s like watching the premiere of a movie sequel, expecting similar characters with a few extra inside jokes that only the real fans would appreciate.
“Okay cool. You got what you wanted.”
Their reaction was more relief than excitement. I had zero expectations because the happiness I felt overwhelmed everything else. And frankly, I couldn’t have cared less whether they screamed, with their arms opened, waiting to give me the biggest or merely nodded in silence. All I cared about was our son coming into the world.
My movie sequel was just as good as the first, but this time, I really appreciated it because of all the effort it took to create it. I was celebrating every day with myself and my belly, soaking it in, embracing every feeling because I felt so blessed after a year of continuous stress.
Although I was in my own little world, I couldn’t forget how it felt when I was trying, the uncertainty, the pain and disappointment.
To all the women who are still trying
Although I won’t understand or fully appreciate your struggle, you have my deepest compassion and empathy. My heart goes out to you. I’m not here to give you advice on how to get pregnant or how to deal with disappointment because everyone reacts to different experiences in different ways.
I’m not going to tell you to relax. I’m not going to tell you to stay positive and to be grateful for what you do have. I’m not going to tell you there are worse things that could happen. Because those were the most unhelpful things I heard as they undermined my pain.
What I am going to tell you is that:
You have a right to talk about the details but you also have a right to not talk about it all.
You have a right to feel sad, to be upset, to complain whether you already have kids, whether you’re under or over 35 years old, whether you’ve been trying for a few months or a few years.
You have a right to be sensitive around pregnant women, around babies, around families, around playgrounds, around Mother’s Day and Father’s Day.
You have a right to seek professional help without judgment and criticism.
So Readers, are you or did you struggle to conceive? What is something that helped you? Or is helping you?
