Over the years, it has come to my attention that many observant individuals have noticed that my partner and I have only one child. A handful of brave souls, often strangers unaware of what they’re stepping into, have even dared to ask whether we intend to expand our family.
When I’m feeling lighthearted, I might retort with something playful, like, “Are you selling any of yours?” or “I’d love to, but I can’t find any good options on eBay.” More often than not, however, I’m not in the best of moods, and my responses can become less than cordial.
It seems that when a couple has a single child, it invites all sorts of inquiries that no one would typically make in polite conversation. For instance, people are hesitant to discuss politics until they’ve known you for years, yet when it comes to the number of kids you have, they feel free to unleash their curiosity. These are often the same people who feel entitled to touch a pregnant woman’s belly or comment on your grocery purchases.
The conversation typically begins with, “So you only have one child…” implying that there must be a justifiable reason for this choice (children, not grapefruits—stay focused). Instead of responding with the maturity expected of someone of my age, I often resort to sarcasm.
“Yep, my reproductive capabilities took a hit after my time in the military, but I’d go back if they asked me. Authentic Vietnamese cuisine is hard to come by here.”
Or, “My partner and I felt there were already too many individuals of our ethnicity, but adoption wasn’t on the table. All the good babies have been adopted already.”
While I recognize that these questions are usually not meant to be insensitive, I can’t help but take offense. The truth is, my partner and I would love to have more children, even two, but various factors like our age, finances, and existing medical conditions make this difficult.
The journey to conceive our first child was lengthy and fraught with challenges. We tracked basal body temperatures, meticulously timed cycles, and even engaged in some rather quirky rituals, yet we were left with little success. We sought expert help, enduring multiple rounds of IVF and its associated stress. If anyone suggests that nightly injections will bring you closer, they’re mistaken. After years of consultations and procedures, we ended up with six viable embryos, but due to a mix-up, most of them were lost in the process.
Our daughter, Lily, was the result of the last successful implantation. After a long wait filled with doubts, when the doctor finally confirmed that my partner was pregnant, it felt surreal.
Although we’ve talked about having another child, we know that our chances of conceiving naturally are slim. Our discussions have also included the possibility of adoption, but I worry that I might struggle with resentment if challenges arose, potentially impacting Lily. This self-awareness leads me to believe that adoption may not be the best path for our family.
Further, pursuing IVF again is daunting; it’s an exhausting and costly process with no guarantees. The emotional toll weighs heavily, and we have decided that it’s more beneficial to focus on raising the wonderful child we already have rather than fixating on the uncertainty of additional children.
For those interested in similar experiences or looking for resources, I recommend checking out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination. For more information on home insemination techniques, you can find helpful insights at BabyMaker Home Insemination Kit. If you’re curious about intracervical insemination, take a look at this informative piece on our other blog.
In summary, while the questions about family size can be intrusive, they often stem from a place of curiosity. The realities of expanding a family can be complex and deeply personal, shaped by various factors. Our focus remains on nurturing our daughter and providing her with the love and attention she deserves.