Things I Didn't Know About Secondary Infertility

I thought I was pretty well versed in the emotional aspect of infertility. When gearing up to start TTC again, I'd hoped it would be smoother sailing. We would be more prepared this time, we knew our doctor and our IVF clinic & were prepared to go in guns blazing, and hopefully walk away with a little less money in our pockets, but another beautiful baby at the end.

Life tends to throw you curveballs though, and these are some of the things I've learned along the way.

You don't seem to fit in anywhere in infertility land.

You're not a first timer, and you now have a kid - so you don't fit in with the primary infertiles who are still coming to terms with not yet conceiving a baby without assistance. You have a child already, so how could you possibly understand the struggle? {Sidenote: I have been there, with our own case of primary infertility, so I DO know... but they don't know that.} You're also not one of those lucky folks who struggled the first time, but conceived naturally/easily the second time around - so people don't always get how hard it can be to be doing this all over again. Sure, they can empathise about the overall suck factor of infertility... but there's no first hand experience of having to re-live the worst time of your life all over again & with no end in sight. Add in the extra joy of the miscarriages & it just makes the whole thing a big mess. Thankfully, people don't have to walk exactly in your steps to be able to offer sympathy & a shoulder to cry on - that's something I'm always grateful for.

You feel like you're not allowed to complain.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I am so grateful for Georgia. Every day of my existence, I'll be grateful for our sweet, cheeky girl. She is my everything. But there is nothing fun about secondary infertility. It sucks. It really sucks. The idea of our family finishing here is so hard to deal with, when your heart is screaming at you that you just aren't ready to be done. Comments like 'at least you have one child' hurt - because we know that. We know we're lucky to have her. But damn it, we're allowed to be upset that we can't give her a sibling right now, and that our choices have once again been taken away from us.

You feel guilty all the time.

We're spending so much time, money, emotional effort into expanding our family - at what point do we stop and give it all to our existing child, instead of essentially throwing it away on a what-if? I don't ever want my daughter to feel that we're not satisfied because of her, that she wasn't enough for us to stop trying & focus on being a single child family. Is that what people think about us... will she think that of us one day? Or will she know that we want another baby not only for ourselves & our joy of parenting, but for her - because we both grew up with siblings, and because we don't want her to be alone when we're gone. I love my daughter with my whole heart, but I have so much more to give - does that make me a bad parent?

You spend your days pretending everything's fine, so your little one doesn't see the stress.

The one thing I refuse to do is ruin my toddler's childhood by pining away over the stress of infertility - which is easy enough, when she's little. We started back at the IVF game on her first birthday, when she was happily oblivious. Now, it's getting harder. When we found out that we had lost the baby at 11 weeks, after expecting all to be in the safe zone, it was absolutely devastating - and when all I wanted to do was cry and scream and wail, I had to pull it together, because I didn't want my little girl seeing her mama crumble. When we got the news that another pregnancy was ending, that a miscarriage was imminent, all I could do was count the seconds to her nap-time so that I could lose my shit without her witnessing it. When IVF cycle after IVF cycle got cancelled, or ended with me on the bathroom floor sobbing over another negative pregnancy test... it doesn't matter, because she will never know those things. But man, I've gotta tell you - keeping up appearances is exhausting.

You realise how hard it can be to figure out fertility appointments.

If you thought infertility and IVF was hard first time around, it's even harder with a temperamental two year old in tow. I don't like taking Georgia into our clinic, because I feel like it's a little insensitive to the women still trying for their first - but sometimes, it's a necessary evil. If I can't get a babysitter, or if my appointments are at crazy times, she has to come with me. Our clinic is a 30 minute drive away, so lugging her into the car and keeping her busy is work in itself.. and don't even get me started on how you manage her while you've got an appointment with dildo cam, or the million & one blood draws.

You're constantly comparing things.

We got lucky on a fresh cycle with Georgia. We got lucky after two years. Maybe we need to wait that long again this time around. Or maybe I need to wear the same underwear, or lucky socks, or jewellery, or have the same doctor doing the transfer, for it to work? You find yourself obsessively googling stories of successful pregnancies, of BFN's turning into BFP's after 12dpo... it goes on and on and on. And don't even get me started on how easy it is to start comparing yourself to others, because that's a whole other story altogether.

You expected it to be hard, but you didn't expect it to be THIS hard.

I'm not silly - I knew that we wouldn't be one of those miracle couples who got a surprise pregnancy second time around. Hopeful maybe, but I'm a realist: we knew it'd be hard going. But in all honesty, I thought we would have a second baby in a shorter time frame than it took with Georgia. Why? Well, because we were cutting straight to the point this time around. No faffing about with trying naturally, we'd jump straight back into the IVF and get this show on the road. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that we'd have back to back miscarriages, or cancelled cycles, or multiple BFN transfers - or be sitting here, all this time later, with nothing to show for our efforts. It has been a very harsh reality check, that's for sure.

You need support. Like, a LOT of support.

I can't stress this enough. Infertility is an emotional rollercoaster, and secondary infertility is like getting back on the same rollercoaster, but without a safety harness. You just don't know what to expect. Having family & friends, and outside support if you feel you need it, is essential. It's part of the reason why I love the blogging community so much - you connect to so many people who make you feel less alone, even in the darkest times. To everyone who's helped, and is still helping - thank you. xx

What things have surprised you about your own journey?