The Dark Door

Aidan is amazing.

Honestly somedays (even the tough ones) it’s hard for me to believe I’m a Mumma, especially Aidan’s as he’s the coolest dude on the planet. I may be biased. There will be a moment everyday, without fail, when I will whisk him up into my arms, smoosh my lips into his chubby cheek and tell him how smart / clever / handsome / kind / funny he is.

I sometimes wonder if he’s missing out by not having a sibling.

Aidan is three years old. He’s curious, loves to dance and likes to pick out his own outfits. He knows his ABCs, can count to 20, is fully potty trained, is as cheeky as a monkey from Bali and has the most compassionate soul. He’s changed Steve and I to the core forever, apparently kids seem to do that to you.

I sometimes wonder if we’re missing out by not giving him a sibling.

I’ve been through it all before on the blog, the story hasn’t changed. The same physical hurdles still exist but this time there is more hope. The problem isn’t the probability, for me right now the danger lies in my emotional state. Right now I’m happy and the possibility of becoming depressed and unhappy again for want and trying scares the shit out of me.

I craved Aidan so badly for what felt like an eternity that it almost broke me. I rarely write about those feelings anymore because of the physical reaction I get, even now my chest feels like it’s on fire and about to collapse. I’m not being overly dramatic, ask anyone trying to conceive.

It’s that feeling that makes me squeeze Aidan tighter.

Some women find fertility easier than others, I’m not one of them and I know several of my readers are still waiting, still hoping. When you’re trying and nothings working and no one has any answers, without realising you can find yourself walking though a dark door. An endless hallway of dark doors, of options, blood tests, procedures, injections, tears and heartache.

I’m not sure I can walk through that door again… even if Aidan’s my light.

Comments

  1. 1

    says

    I am the mother of an only child conceived through ICSI. I lost one of our twins in the first trimester and then nearly lost Boyo when I haemorrhaged early in the second trimester. We felt complete as a family with our lovely baby. Then I got very ill with chronic illness and it wasn’t even on the radar. When I went into remission years later the topic was raised by my specialists. We considered it but decided against it.

    Thinking of you x

  2. 2

    says

    Big hugs Honey I understand your need to write this. I think Aidan is a cool dude to be around too. It was too sweet when he came to our house recently and raced upstairs to the cupboard where all his extra toys are, grabbed his bucket and spade ready for the beach, with no prompting at all.

  3. 3

    Belinda says

    You are YOUNG. You conceived Aidan naturally and didn’t even know you were pregnant until you were in your 2nd trimester. Don’t go down that path of fertility treatment, charting/temping etc because THAT will really do your head in. I wish I had never heard of “trying to conceive”, I wish I had stayed ignorant to the whole thing because I am so acutely aware of my cycles and where I am at now, it is a burden. Instead of sex being relaxing and enjoyable, it is a chore.

    I’ve got at least 10 years on you and I am still childless. My best advice is just go with the flow, take care of your body and the rest will work itself out.

  4. 4

    says

    It’s a tricky business and I was in my 40s when I finally gave up on meeting Mr Right (or even Mr ‘Will do’) and went it on my own. I tried a few inseminations and started down the IVF route last year before some tests basically showed (at 43) it was too late and my chances too slim.

    Occasionally I get bitter and twisted at those for whom it all comes so easily – or who have the partner (and unlimited opportunities to have sex – rather than paying a fortune for donor sperm… sorry, TMI?!!) but am trying to get past that and focus on making my life something other than what I’d always envisaged (ie. involving a family!).

    Take pleasure in what you have and try not to stress about what others expect you to do.

    xxxx

  5. 7

    says

    I wrote a post last night, just before going to bed. It had been on my mind for some time and I wrote it in 5 minutes. The words just flowed from my mind, through my fingers and onto the screen.

    It was basically saying that I won’t apologise for my infertility journey, that I won’t tell people to just take care of themselves and they’ll magically get their BFP, that if they have hope, if their positive enough that somehow it will work itself out and they’ll end up with the prize – a baby in their arms because you know what? That doesn’t always happen, we don’t all get our happy ending no matter how much we want it but people don’t want to hear that, don’t want to talk about it.

    So when I hear people trot out the line – “oh you’re still young” I want to scream. I was young when I started this caper, 20 to be exact, I’m now 33 and yup still no baby but lots of losses instead but hey.

    Are you happy with it being just you, Steve and Aidan? If so, then just enjoy that for now. Perhaps don’t try but don’t not try, just leave things up to fate, then what will be, will be.

    Whatever you decide, from someone who has been on ttc pathway for near on 13 years now, I wish you nothing but luck from the depth of my heart.

    x

  6. 8

    says

    Big hugs.
    My husband and I are on trying to conceive rollercoaster for our first baby for the last 4 years, we are struggling with infertility on both side, it’s not an easy ride.

    Thinking of you!

  7. 9

    Zia says

    I totally sympathise with you Rach. I haven’t been on the path quite as long as you, but close enough to it. One miscarriage, no other pregnancies in a decade. One of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn is that getting pregnant when it’s been a challenge (though wonderful and exhilarating and exciting and so very, VERY joyous) STILL doesn’t guarantee a take-home baby. What’s worse is that I can’t un-learn that. We can never have that joyful naivete that it’s gonna all be alright. And I hate hearing that “You’re still young” line too. It didn’t make any more difference to our success 10 years ago (23) than it does now (33).

    Dani, jaded as I might sound, I still believe the road much less traveled is still a road that is worth traveling. If I didn’t I wouldn’t still be taking all these pills and having needles and god knows what shoved in me left, right and centre. I still have faith. That’s not to say it’s not tested (every. goddam. month.), but it’s what keeps me/us going back for more. I guess my best advice for you is to not put too much pressure on yourselves. Don’t say “We’re going to be pregnant by x, y or z” – that’s a total mind-f*ck (trust me, I went there hard in my early days. Now if I’m pregnant by the time I’m 73, I’ll be happy).

    Just give it a whirl. And as you pass by each stage, should it come to that, be sure to stop and ask yourselves if you’re prepared – REALLY prepared – for the next stage. Financially. Physically. Emotionally. As an individual. As a couple. As a family. Are you fully committed to it, or are you going there because you feel you ‘have to’ to fulfil some obligation to your doctor (who has spent so much time on your case), your hubby (who has suffered through your mood swings, transfers, scans, etc, and worn the financial/physical/emotional/other costs right along with you), or Aidan (because he ‘deserves’ a sibling) – or maybe yourself (‘ah, we’ve tried so hard/spent so much money/etc’).

    Just take it all as it comes. You can worry yourself half to death, and it won’t change a pinch of sh!t in the end – I have, and it didn’t/hasn’t/won’t.

    Also, remember you have a big group of people around you who love you and care about you and your family very much. Some who ‘get it'; some who don’t – damn those crazy fertiles; some right there around the corner/next suburb over from you, and some like me on the other end of a computer 1000km away, but *all* of whom care. We (all of us) can be there for you in our own way. And if we can’t keep you from walking through that dark door, we certainly can hold your hand and go with you as you walk through it.

    Much love to you and yours as you wrestle with this. xo

  8. 10

    AndyT says

    Firstly **hugs**

    I somewhat know of the road you are travelling. I have one beautiful little 8 year old girl that I would dearly love to give a little sister or brother too and have been trying to do so for about 5 years. I know the ups and downs etc. At the end of the day I have come to the conclusion that I have a great deal more than some people and I cherish that and sometimes you have to focus on what you have not what you don’t have. Sure it isn’t easy but stay positive. XXX

  9. 11

    says

    I totally understand where you are coming from I hated that my body couldn’t fall pregnant, the waiting & waiting for nothing was so painful, I craved another baby, I watched friends add to their families & there I was wanting it but nothing.

    Now I see that we weren’t ready for another baby & maybe the same is for you, when I forgot & started to live “in the moment” it happened for us almost 3+years later.

    Stay strong & Positive.
    xoxo

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