Infertility & Motherhood (Part One)

You would think that since I've had three kids now this whole "mom" thing would be old hat. However, my journey through the realms of motherhood has been colored with infertility, which makes everything different.

Soren's first year of life was fabulous. He was a great infant and an energetic toddler. I was juggling school and some part time work and Alan wasn't home a lot (he was juggling work and part time school), but we made it. I remember chasing him around the house, playing outside in the fall leaves, filling up the swimming pool in the backyard and letting him run around naked in the summer . . . lots of smiles. But by the time he turned two, we headed to our first specialist appointment to figure out why, after a year of trying, we did not have a new baby on the way. Unfortunately for all of us, the rest of Soren's young years would be tarnished by the tears, stress, anxiety, and frustration of infertility.

There were days when I would grab hold of Soren and never want to let go - wondering if he'd be our only child and wanting to cherish every second I had with him. There were other days when I wanted to be left alone in my misery, crying and pleading with God - wondering what I had done wrong in my life, in my marriage, or in my parenting that God was keeping us from having more children. It was a tough time - especially the first 4 years. I remember sending Soren off to kindergarten and forcing myself to take on a project (painting the interior of our house) to keep myself from sobbing. It wasn't supposed to be like that - I wasn't supposed to be putting my oldest child on the bus and coming home to an empty house. That wasn't the plan - that wasn't supposed to be my life.

I was stuck in this weird place. I didn't belong with the infertile women - I had a child. How could I possibly relate to those that had none at all? And I wasn't a full fledged mom because I only had one and couldn't possibly understand what it was like to juggle a household of children. I didn't have 2-3 kids screaming for my attention or fighting with each other. I didn't understand. No one purposely left me out (to my knowledge), but I felt very isolated.

The isolation increased once we moved to Washington, DC. At this point, Soren was in school all day, so I wasn't invited to any of the mommy groups, trips to the park, etc. (though I don't know if I would have gone anyway). All the women my age were in those groups and I was on the outside. It was a very difficult time for me and I slipped in to what was probably my worst depression to date. I felt as though I had no friends, no connections, no one to relate to or confide in that would remotely understand what I was feeling.

Secondary infertility (unable to conceive after the birth of one or more children) blows. The pain is different from primary infertility (unable to conceive and carry a child to term). I would NEVER say it was worse, it's just different. You just don't fit anywhere. Or, at least, you don't feel like you fit. I never felt like a real mom because there were too many times I'd actually be talking to other mothers and they'd invalidate my opinion (not in a purposely mean way) because I only had one child. That was hard to deal with because in so many ways, I didn't feel like a mom. I didn't have the full picture of motherhood, just a small piece of it. It made those moments where I did actually have a conversation with another mom tainted with feelings of inadequacy. I might technically be a mom, but I wasn't a real mom.

There came a point around the time that Soren turned 8 that I think Alan and I accepted our fate. We'd done 6 cycles of Clomid and none were remotely successful. We decided to put it all behind us and just move forward and enjoy the family we had, however small it was. We started talking about all the benefits of having only one child. Believe me, when you sit down and think about it, the list can get pretty long! And, as a result, our attitudes started to shift. I started being more open to talking about our situation and not being ashamed of it - it was just fact now. I started to embrace who I was, accept it, and move forward. It was during this time that I started to love me. And wow, did I need that! Infertility taught me many things, but most of all it forced me to confront me, accept me, and love me.

When Soren was 9 1/2, I went into my ob/gyn for my annual checkup. He brought up Clomid again and, on a whim, I agreed to do what is called a Clomid Challenge Test to determine egg quality and quantity. This is when our world took a huge turn. This test would forever change our lives and our family. And, seeing as Henry is about to wake up again, I'm going to have to leave the rest of this story for another day.

But getting just that much out has been very cathartic.