My husband and I often joke about how easy it was to fall pregnant with our daughter. We say that before we even realised what we were missing, there she was, ready to spell it out for us. I've never been one to shy away from admitting that she was a bit of a surprise, always quick to assure anyone who will listen that although she wasn't planned, she was definitely wanted.
That pregnancy was fairly textbook, my labour was not, and I ended up with an emergency c-section after a failed attempt at induction at 39 weeks. Leading up to our daughter being born, my husband and I, always the planners, discussed when we thought we'd like to try for a second baby, and while I don't recall exactly what we decided, when the midwife politely explained, post c-section, that it'd be best to wait at least two years before expanding our family again, we were not complaining one bit.
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But time is a funny thing, it makes you forget how hard you once thought something was, and after 18 months of parenthood, having survived teething, sleep regressions, and a second lockdown with a baby in tow, we decided to try for a second baby.
After all, this would put our daughter at just over two when the new baby came, making this baby an autumn baby, which would be ideal for the time I wanted to take off work, and for the new baby to fit the cute clothes our first baby had worn in the right seasons.
Having my first experience of pregnancy being a big surprise, I’d never had to think about tracking ovulation, about how long after ovulation to test for pregnancy, about when to stop drinking or start taking the pre-natal supplements, it just happened.
So you can imagine my surprise, and quite frankly, my confusion, when a month after we began trying, I got my period. 'This wasn't supposed to happen!' I told myself. But never mind, we can't expect to get that lucky twice! We'll just need to try again next month, which puts another month in the age gap and some of the baby clothes might not quite fit at the right time, but it's okay!
Fast forward a month, and I am sure this is the month. My boobs are sore, I’m crying at the 6pm news, I can smell things from a mile off, all the classic telltale signs from my first pregnancy. Except it's not, and the digital pregnancy test, quite rudely, informs me I am "not pregnant" in capital letters.
This can't be right; I have all the symptoms! I confide in a friend, who is not far off giving birth to her second, who informs me it's totally normal for it to take some time, and suggests some ovulation tracking. Yes! That’s it! That’s the solution, spend a few hundred dollars on a fancy ovulation tracking device, and then surely the baby will come?
I'll fast forward now to six months after that initial decision to start trying, and I am not pregnant. I have, to the best of my knowledge, not been pregnant, and it's an understatement to say that I am not okay.
I’m watching my friends all around me bring beautiful babies in the world and I am cuddling those babies, so happy for my friends but so desperately wanting what they have. I am watching the age gap between my daughter and her theoretical sibling get bigger and bigger, wondering what this will mean for their relationship, if that day ever comes.
Listen to Get Me Pregnant. On this episode, host, Leigh Campbell and Liz have a very honest and raw conversation about the emotional and physical toll of secondary infertility as two women who have been through it. Post continues below.
I'm wondering what it could possibly be that is making this time around harder, because no medical professional seems to be willing to help me until I’ve been trying for a year. You're young, they tell me. You're healthy, they insist. You've done it before, they remind me. As though that information is supposed to make me feel better. I KNOW there's no reason this is taking its time, that’s what is making this so frustrating.
No one needs to bother reminding me how lucky I am to be a mother already. My daughter reminds me every day by simply existing, and I am so grateful to her for making me a mum. So grateful but at the same time my heart is hurting at the thought that I might be done with the baby stage that I initially took for granted.
When my daughter was a baby, I always knew I wanted more kids, so I never slowed down to appreciate the stage we were in. I knew I'd get to use those clothes again; I knew I'd get to experience a first smile, first giggle, first steps all again. It never once occurred to me that a second child wasn't necessarily a given, and certainly that our timeline wasn't guaranteed.
Having just survived a Christmas where I was so sure I’d have a baby growing inside me, I am hopeful that this next Christmas I might be luckier, I might even have a baby in my arms!
Until then, I am going to slow down and enjoy these moments with my daughter, and appreciate that I won't get them back again. I am going to squeeze my friend’s newborns tightly and be the most adoring, caring aunty I can be. I am going to do my best to breathe deep and keep trying, but I am never going to take being a mum for granted again.
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