The list of sacrifices I would make to have a second child is brief, yet here I am, opting for birth control. My partner and I have been facing secondary infertility for a couple of years now, and two years is a long time to be trapped in your own thoughts. It feels endless to monitor cycles, track ovulation, time intimacy, and hope for those two pink lines instead of just one. However, we have finally reached our breaking point.
Expressing why we’ve decided to stop trying is challenging. I often hear comments like, “Maybe once you stop thinking about it, you’ll conceive!” or “You just need to relax!” While I understand the sentiment behind these platitudes—many couples have succeeded after ceasing their efforts—that’s not my reality. I can’t simply switch off my emotions. Waiting and hoping has been our reality, but it’s an exhausting space to occupy. That lingering hope makes it difficult to move on, and I know that as long as there’s a chance for pregnancy, I will continue to feel crushed month after month.
So, I turned to my doctor, tears in my eyes, and asked for birth control. Do I long for another baby? Absolutely. But my heart has grown weary. My doctor suggested a few medications we could explore, and for a moment, I felt a flicker of hope. Then she mentioned the possibility of consulting a fertility clinic about IVF, and once again, I allowed myself to hope. She expressed her wish that she could prescribe prenatal vitamins instead of the pill, and yes, I share that wish. I don’t believe I will ever find peace with how things have unfolded, but I recognize that starting birth control is the best next step for us.
Infertility has impacted every aspect of my life. It has taken a toll on my self-esteem and made me feel betrayed by my own body. It has robbed me of joy and cast a heavy shadow over my heart. At the same time, I fear that closing this chapter means shutting the door entirely. What if a year or a decade from now, I regret not trying harder for another child? What if my daughter grows up feeling incomplete because she never had a sibling? She’s asked for one — as many children do at her age — but she’s too young to truly understand. We explain that families come in all shapes and sizes; some have many children, some have one, and some have none. I’m uncertain how this situation will affect her, if at all. She is everything to me — our little miracle.
The isolation that comes with infertility is profound. I often felt as if no one could understand my experience. It’s particularly complex because I am a mother; why shouldn’t I be satisfied with what I have, right? Even so, I am ready to move forward from the feeling of helplessness associated with infertility. I want to focus on new dreams.
However, that is easier said than done. I am still navigating the path to acceptance. I’m uncertain if true acceptance is attainable, but I’m committed to trying. For me, part of moving on involves eliminating the possibility of pregnancy. This might not resonate with everyone, but if there’s still hope for a baby, my mindset won’t change; I’ll remain fixated on the thought that maybe this month will finally be our month. Birth control is essential for me to continue my healing journey and let go. That said, it’s a difficult decision to make—both literally and figuratively. I despise this situation.
I don’t have any wisdom to impart; I’m simply taking it day by day. I’m not on the hunt for a silver lining because, for me, there isn’t one. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason. Life can throw challenges your way that are painful and testing.
However, nothing lasts forever, so I’m striving to coexist with my feelings. Sharing such a personal experience isn’t something I typically do, but I felt compelled to express this part of my life. I chose to share my story because it resonates with many others, and I’m incredibly grateful for the strong women who have supported me through this journey.
I came across a quote by Alex Elle that perfectly encapsulates my feelings: “Acknowledge your pain. Let it surface and spill over. Give it permission to make an uncomfortable mess. Healing can happen this way and so can emotional freedom. Face it all. Free it, too.”
For more insights on the complexities of home insemination and resources, check out CDC’s information on assisted reproductive technology or explore this at-home insemination kit for additional options. You can also find important details regarding our blog’s guidelines here.
Summary
After facing challenges with secondary infertility for two years, a mother expresses her deep desire for another child while acknowledging the need to prioritize her mental health by starting birth control. She reflects on the emotional toll of infertility, her fears about the future, and the loneliness that often accompanies this journey. Ultimately, she seeks acceptance and healing while sharing her story to connect with others who may be experiencing similar struggles.