The elusive second baby

I gave birth to my first child, a lovely girl, in December of 2010.  She was born healthy though afterwards I suffered some minor complications following the birth.  Add her being a terrible sleeper into the mix and I didn't even entertain the idea of having a second until she was two years old.

I always envisioned having two children.  It was how I, the majority of my friends, and husband grew up.  I became pregnant with my daughter easily, almost too easily.  We weren't trying, got lazy one weekend and there she was.  Since her conception was such a breeze I arrogantly assumed that conceiving a second would be just as simple.

I was wrong.

We have been trying since around November of 2012.  Which will put it at almost two years.  In that time I've gone through two miscarriages - spaced a year apart - and a chemical pregnancy.  The last miscarriage was just over a month ago and I decided I needed a break.  My body has been through enough and I needed emotional distance from it all.  The monthly wave of hope and disappointment isn't something I'm ready for nor am I ready to handle yet another pregnancy that might not end well.

There is a name for the condition that I have, secondary infertility.  Moreover I have three friends who are in the same boat as myself.  Some who have also suffered miscarriages and some who haven't been able to conceive at all.  The group of us are watching our one child grow older and the age gap get wider as time passes and the second baby remains a dream.  It hurts.  I'd always imagined my daughter growing up with a sibling and now I'm beginning to wonder if that will ever happen.  I want to add here that I am grateful to have my daughter.  I know I'm not in the same position as those with primary infertility whose predicament I can't begin to imagine.  This post is about my situation and not meant to make others feel badly.

The lack of a second child makes me feel incomplete and I worry that my daughter will be lonely.  Who else understands your parents like a sibling?   Who is she going to complain to about how unfair and horrible we are?  Then there's me.  I want to experience again pregnancy, birth (only because I have to!) and those first crazy months of sleeplessness.  I want to be able to feed another baby and watch him/her grow.  I want to see the first smile, hear the first laugh, catch the first steps. 

I'm sure relatives and Facebook friends are wondering where the second child is.  (I specify Facebook friends as those close to me know exactly what is going on)  Being told not to "wait much longer" for the second baby is frustrating.  If it were as easy as wanting it to happen I would've had one long ago.  My father who had been one of the louder voices insisting my daughter needed a brother or sister has, mercifully, fallen silent as news of each failed pregnancy came his way. 

Medically it seems I need to have three miscarriages in a row before any testing for problems will be done.  The chemical pregnancy does not count as a miscarriage since it was really only my period being three days late.  I wouldn't have even known if I hadn't tested so early.  My age doesn't make things any easier.  At 36 I know my prime reproductive years are behind me.  I've done my homework so I know the risks of problems only get higher the older I get.  It could very well be that being that much older then when I conceived my daughter is causing abnormalities when I do manage to become pregnant. 

My doctor is optimistic I will go on to have a successful pregnancy, having been through something similar with his wife.  I don't know what will happen but for now I'm putting it to the side and working on enjoying my life and loving the child I have.

Good God.  I forgot I had a blog.  Are people still blogging out there?

Why have I not blogged for such a long time?  Well, I got a full time teaching job and lost my mind.  Then I had a baby and what was left of said mind after teaching was effectively shredded.  I want to make it clear I love my baby.  Except she isn't a baby any longer.  She's three.  She's energetic.  She has tantrums.  She can be incredibly amazing and incredibly horrid all in the space of ten minutes.  I'm led to believe this is normal.

Now that I no longer need to get half-undressed to feed my daughter nor change her diapers I'm finding I have time to think again.  Thinking is good - except that I tend to take it to extremes and enter the deep realm of anxiety instead of staying in the shallow end.  Thinking also makes me remember I actually had creative outlets.  I by no means consider myself a Martha Stewart but I like tinkering on a piano (play only - no idea how to compose) and writing.  Since I have no piano here it falls to writing.  Which I'm trying to get back into.  Awkwardly.

I haven't edited this post so forgive any mistakes that are present.  It's getting late and it's been a long day of being stuck indoors due to rain.  Three year olds aren't meant to stay indoors all day.  They're supposed to be taken for walks.  Much like dogs.  

Will update within a week.  Famous last words.