Three of us live under our roof. Mum, Dad and daughter. We are a family.
We love each other more than words can say. We have good individual relationships with each other. We have fun together. My husband and I have the same values. We are rarely argue. Our daughter is happy, bright and healthy. We live in a lovely house in a lovely part of the world, by the sea. We have a good income, and can afford some nice things, go on holidays and have a large SUV on the drive. Yes, we are grateful for all we have. What more could we ask for?
Another child please.
I guess we all just want that little bit more. It is human nature. Others may log on to Facebook, see our ‘Facebook life’ and think we have the perfect life. And we kinda do… But we want something more too, and have done for 2 long years. A positive pregnancy test. A bump. A birth moment. A baby. A sibling for our daughter. A family of four. If only it was as easy as saving up some cash for it! My husband is such a good money saver, we could have bought ten babies in the time we have waited and longed for another little bundle.
It is difficult. Very difficult. So very, very difficult.
You see, we are caught in this strange world of Secondary Unexplained Infertility. At this stage we are classed as ‘Subfertile’ (Thanks! Lovely. Don’t I just feel so feminine and womanly now? My uterus shriveled up just hearing the word). Within 12 months of starting to try to conceive, and with no medical reasons found, we hadn’t conceived or carried a child to full term after a natural and normal conception and pregnancy with our first child. Two years since beginning this journey, and still with no medical reasons found, we continue to try to complete this family of ours as naturally as we can.
We are caught between the world of parenting and the painful emotional rollercoaster of trying to conceive. We have friends that have several children, young babies or bumps and our daughter’s friends all have brothers or sisters. At Playgroup, mums chat about how manic/difficult/crazy/amazing/special life is with a preschooler and a toddler, whilst gently rubbing their large pregnant belly and then ask me if I’m going to have anymore.
We are caught between the world of people struggling with Primary Infertility and those who have complete families. I can only imagine the pain of not knowing if you will ever be able to hold your own baby, but I can only dream of how wonderfully content and whole those who have completed their family must feel.
We are a family of 3. We have an empty space. It is silent, and yet it screams so loud. It is invisible to you, but I feel it every day. It is extremely hard, if not impossible, to ignore. And I fear it. Because if I can’t fill it, will it be with me forever?
We have created a family. We are still creating a family. Are we there yet? Nope.