So. Remember how I wrote that last post about not quantifying or judging each other’s struggles to conceive and supporting one another no matter how “more” or “less” infertile we are? Well, I confess. I was laying the groundwork and sort of buttering you up for this post. So here it is: I’m pregnant. Not IVF, IUI or even Clomid-pregnant. I’m the-old-fashioned-way pregnant. What’s more, I got pregnant on the first try. Yeah, I’m one of them now.
I still, at almost 11 weeks, can hardly believe it myself. Sure I’d heard the stories – and even know some personally – of people who go through years of fertility treatment to have their first child and then conceive the second with ease. But as much as I flirted with the fantasy, I never truly thought that that would be my story. I was humoring my husband, who wanted to try naturally for awhile, and mentally calculating the months before we could contact the fertility clinic for an appointment. I was planning to dive back into IVF as soon as possible, because I do very much want to have more children.
So, when the pregnancy was confirmed, I was surprised to find that I was shocked more than thrilled. More disbelieving than relieved. Not that it wasn’t happy news, of course. I just wasn’t ready for it. And it wasn’t long before I thought of you, of Before the Belly, and I felt strangely guilty. I mean, here I was, promoting myself as some sort of infertility “expert.” Beckoning followers with new stories and facebook posts. Telling you that you will find support and understanding here. Which, of course you still will … but I wondered, do you really want to get it from me?
I hope so. If there is one thing this journey has taught me, it is that you can’t plan, predict or control. Life happens whether you’re expecting it or not, and doing your best means taking each new turn with as much grace as you can muster. So, here I am, still telling you that this is my passion and I won’t stop talking about infertility, even though I’m no longer the poster child. Maybe I will be something else now; perhaps a symbol of hope.
And as for you, little one, baby number two. If you are reading this someday, know that you were wanted just as much as your big brother. But, and it’s probably good that I’m realizing this right off the bat, your story is going to be different. Our story – our relationship – is going to be different. From the way you jumped into life without giving me hardly a moment to breathe, to the way you are already pushing me harder, with sickness and patience, than your brother did. You will be a surprise and a blessing, whoever you are.