Wednesday 26 April 2017

One child family thoughts

To follow up my entry on "Sinkholes," and maybe blog oftener, I'm going to try to write a bunch of short(er) posts about various things on my mind, many of which will be fertility related (but not necessarily all). It's hard sometimes to break my thoughts into smaller topics, because one thought leads to another to another in my mind. But I'll try!


Today....Thinking more about a one child family.


What would it be like to stop the trying to conceive business? In my entry called "Release," I talked about an experience where I felt happy to be a one child family. That was a lovely afternoon. I was profoundly content that day! It also wasn't the whole picture.


It is still upsetting to have a seemingly normal 27 day cycle where we do everything right and don't get pregnant. It sucks to gamble and lose. It hurts to see pregnant bellies and new infant siblings at AJ's daycare and dance class and know that we are (seemingly!) one lucky cycle away from that being our reality, but still, oh, so far. The other day at Easter dinner my mom and stepmother in law started talking about why they decided to have more than one child. Tender confidences about not wanting the eldest to "grow up alone." Or acting on a partially understood maternal instinct. Or seeing the child's father grow in confidence and reaching an understanding that it would be OK to have more. All so sweet in hindsight. So sweet to have a bloody choice about it, at all. (I didn't say anything.)


I almost always refuse to let myself visualize AJ as an older sibling, or to picture how we might arrange our lives around two, because it feels too painful to dwell on a possibility that stays on the outside of reality. People cope with infertility in different ways; avoidance is one of mine. I squirm when other people "go there," no matter how innocently. That's protected emotional space. Back away!


On the other hand, I have become aware of a few things that could help me be at peace as a one child family. I'm not sentimental about babies. Maybe infertility has given me a cold dead heart, but I have no particular attraction to other people's babies. I'm jealous that they have the choice to have a baby, not of the actual baby so much.  I loved AJ as a baby, but I don't miss her as a baby. I love the person she is and is becoming. It is awesome to be a mother to a toddler and to contemplate all the possibilities that await. We have a family vacation to the ocean planned for the summer! Squee! And the thousands of dollars we could spend on treatments: How about taking a bigger AJ to Europe and Greece next year instead? That won't happen if I'm pregnant or parenting a young baby, but it likely can happen if I'm not.


The bottom line is, it is still painful to contemplate not trying any longer, or trying with such a reduced level of hope and intention that it amounts to not trying. (I'm not sure where that boundary is, for me.) Along with the pain I also have some awareness of the benefits of one child, even if that is not truly our choice.  Day to day, I find I can't only focus on the painful part or the peaceful part. I have to try to accept them both at once. It's weird. But this is our current reality, and my family means enough to me that I must have the courage to embrace all the feelings at once.

8 comments:

  1. I think that mix of feelings is true through all parts of dealing with infertility. Perhaps one way to hit a middle ground is give yourself a set time limit - try in earnest for x months or attempts and then let go? I don't know that this is a real solution.

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    1. Thanks for commenting! Yes, setting limits is important. Mel Ford suggested a gentler version of the time limit: namely, that after a certain amount of time (or treatments) one should reconsider the plan and look at options. That takes the pressure out if it. On the other hand, it also means one has to stop and consider.....which can be hard and leave me going in circles. But here I go, considering. Xo

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  2. Even though we were committed to only having one before TTC, add the fact that it took three years, a lot of cash and pregnancy complications to have our one, I still feel the jealousy when I see pregnant Day Care moms. And I still don't think I can part with my embryos this year

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    1. Yes, there are so many emotions wrapped up with the process! so much for neat clean endings.

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  3. Oh, how I feel you on this issue (as you know). As an only child myself (by my parent's choice, they had no trouble conceiving), I can report that it can be wonderful and there are a lot of perks. You do also grow up knowing how to talk to adults and to be alone, both of which are good skills to have. I don't know any other life, but it was a good one and AJ will be amazing without siblings.

    All of that said, I know how you want one for her, and even knowing B will be fine without them, too, I want one as well. Like you, I don't know when to say enough is enough and I see those pregnant bellies and big families everywhere. I think this will always sting, no matter how much time passes, but I hope I'm wrong.

    All of this is to say that I get it and if I ever have any huge revelation on this topic, you'll be the first to know :)

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    1. Thanks for the perspective, especially as an only child (not my experience). I also believe AJ can and will have a good life. I'm hoping if that ends up being our reality that it gets easier with time i.e. as her peers and their one or two siblings grow up and we are past that 2-3 year stage where people most expect it.

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  4. The simultaneous opposite feelings that you described, I kind of experience it now as I navigate my emotions through pregnancy via surrogacy. On certain days I just have to accept that I am both happy and sad. It just happened today, that after I chatted with Annie and told her to tell the babies that I love them, I suddenly got very emotional. One on hand, I am so happy that the babies are growing so well and Annie's headaches have eased up. On the other hand, I feel so sad that I am so far away from them, I don't get to carry them, and they don't get to hear my voice. I know it's not the same situation as yours, but I think I can see how you have to accept being in pain and at peace at the same time. It's so good to be self-aware. It helps to move things forward.

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    1. I do understand how you can relate! thanks for sharing. I often say with infertility: the stories and experiences are different, but the emotions are strangely similar. Sending lots of love!

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