Every story counts … and this is Jeff and Kaeleigh’s
When my husband and I started trying we were relatively young. I was 26, he was 27, so we didn’t expect any problems. I vividly remember when I threw away my birth control pills mid- vacation in the Scottish isles. It was exhilarating! We were both healthy, fit, and ate all our vegetables. Teenagers manage to get pregnant accidentally all the time… What could possibly go wrong? Every time we crawled beneath the sheets on that trip I thought, this is it... This is how we will tell our children they were made one day. In Scotland- how romantic! It turned out that our journey wouldn’t be that straight forward. Almost 2 years later and after rounds of infertility testing, we discovered that I suffer from Diminished Ovarian Reserve… which means that even though my calendar age was only 28 my eggs were “more mature” than that and exceptionally good at playing hard to get. I was given a 5% chance of falling pregnant naturally.
There were no midnight rendezvous in a car or exceptional bottles of Merlot in our conception story. Not the lure of the Scottish Highlands nor the shell-strewn beaches of Belize managed to net us a pregnancy. No matter how many times we tried standing on our heads or set out to ‘just relax’ we were always met with the same lonely pink line on our pregnancy tests. Instead, our son’s conception involved 3+ years of trying, a dr. we barely knew, tens of thousands of dollars, and a whole lotta science. Our daughter's conception involved slightly less science and another year+ of time spent trying and losing hope.
Now, after a total of 5 years+ spent building our family, I wish I could put this path behind us. However, I often feel that pull, the strong longing urge that I've been chasing for half a decade, and know that if we had our way, we'd add one more child to our family. I feel guilty and greedy knowing how much we've been through and how much others have suffered for the benefit of no kids... But I feel that pull all the same. We still have some embryos frozen, but the idea of diving back into those turbulent treatment waters and the pain and frustration that comes with it means we are putting off that decision to another day. We are incredibly lucky to have the two children we have and are trying to just roll with life for now. I hope that if our luck holds, I will get one more turn to hold a baby that belongs to us. And, if not, I hope our hearts will survive the pain of trying and failing- and trying and failing, again.
If you are on this journey: I see you. I am here with you. I send you so much baby dust and good luck! May we both weather this storm and come out the other side.