I have some thoughts I need to put out into the ether because the I can no longer hide from thinking about a possible second child. There have been numerous “signs” that I can’t ignore that are pointing me to this inevitable topic; things that I am not ready to speak about at this moment but are there. I have always been a slow processor, and I usually think best when I write, so thanks to my two readers for being interested in my jumbled word salad.
I would assume that every person/couple struggles with the decision of how many kids they would like to have and that it’s not specific to infertiles; but I could be wrong. Even though I wasn’t all that interested in being a mother for a long time, I figured I would have kids someday and I always imagined having three. Three was the number I picked because when you are one of two and you lose a sibling, having another one seems like a nice idea. And three because I was young and dumb and thought the world was my oyster.
When we started our baby-making journey, I naively thought in my 26-year-old mind that if we did IVF we may as well have twins, but once you really start reading and researching about it, you realize that going for two could make you end up with zero. We did transfer two embryos the first time, and a part of me wonders if that’s why we miscarried. Then, with everything we went through, the goal became one, and over time that seemed to be the goal of the century. Then when we were absolutely blessed to have TWO embryos to freeze; we had to decide what to do. We knew we wanted each embryo to have the best possible chance at life; and to do that, we decided to only transfer one at a time. My doctor also informed me that it was just an overall bad idea for me personally and I’m glad I listened because I don’t even want to think about my son’s outcome if we had also transferred his twin. So, that second frozen embryo became our second chance to be parents; our backup plan if our perfect hatching blast never became an actual living, breathing human that we got to love on.
Since we are the luckiest people alive to have our little boy, I can no longer pretend that the second frozen embryo that lives somewhere in a high-tech freezer in Texas is still our backup plan. It’s definitely been in the back of my mind (always), but I have had a baby in the NICU and then a newborn at home and then time just continues to move along. Josh has said several times that he doesn’t want to have another, so I just figured it was off the table. This also meant I could continue to guard my heart. But then his tune started to change, and he started to express that he wants a sibling for Everett. Then the aforementioned signs started occurring, one after another and here I am.
Before now, anytime someone asked me about a second, my automatic reaction was no. I mainly didn’t like the idea of Everett losing all of the attention and Josh and I having to divide and conquer even more. We are also in such a great place that if it isn’t broken, why try and “fix it”? I also just started feeling like my normal self and like we can get out into the world again; it’s hard to imagine starting all of that over.
Then I just became really sad about the thought of Everett not having any siblings, but wanting a brother or sister for him wasn’t the reason to forego my knee jerk “no” response. But now more than ever I am starting to feel that tug on my heart. After all, it would be nice to try and have a more normal-ish pregnancy, maybe the next time around I could have the traditional baby shower and maternity photos. It’s also hard not to wish for the normal childbirth experience either. Another thing is this embryo is technically Everett’s fraternal twin, which is kind of a big deal.
Of course, there are still no guarantees with any of it, and there’s the rub. This is our last embryo. And while I am still in disbelief that we even have that one, the chances are somewhere around 50%. 50/50 just doesn’t feel like great odds, but better than they would be if we were starting from scratch. This frozen embryo came from our 35 and 39-year-old bodies, so our chances are based on that, not on our current ages. We are lucky that this has given us a bit more time to mull everything over. Another obstacle is that our IVF doctor retired and then our backup clinic also closed for good. I feel like we would have to start somewhat from scratch again. I have already seen all local fertility doctors and clinics and, no thank you. So, we will have to go outside of our immediate city to make it happen. And if we try and it doesn’t work, or something bad happens, will it ruin our family of three bliss?
Even with all of my reservations, it does make me incredibly sad to think of Everett with no siblings, old parents and very few close family members. I know what it feels like to have barely any immediate family left and I don’t want him to experience that. I know that people say, “you get to choose your family then”, but in my experience that just isn’t true. I really just want him to be chosen and to be loved, even if we are no longer here. I read somewhere (and I can’t find it now to source it) that infertility isn’t just the inability to have a baby; it’s not knowing whether you will get to see your husband be a father, if you will give your parents the ability to be grandparents, or if you will run out of time. To this, I would like to add that you don’t know if you will ever be able to give your child a sibling.
First Comes Love 