My story

There comes a day every once in while when you sit there and you stare at your child and think “holy fuck, I made you”.

We always knew we wanted children, our goal at the beginning was 3. Now having had the first… we aren’t so sure we want more than 2.

We decided to start trying in July 2016. I, for an inexplicable reason, believed that it would be easy. You take away the condom or birth control and VOILA you’re preggers. It’s easy in the movies, right? And you always hear of pregnancy scares, so it seems like it’s a regular thing to just get pregnant. If I could go back to myself in 2016, I would tell that girl that she was very very wrong.

The first few months passed by without incident. We enjoyed the process rather than really time it or think about it. There was hope on either side for our lives to change, but we struck a wall. Every. Time.

We walked into October of 2016, to me starting a different job. Stress levels were higher then, the onus was heavier. Our fun became strained, tense, more of a chore. The beginning of the winter season brought with it an absolute crash of self-confidence. For both of us.

I remember sitting there, on the toilet. Having just peed on what was maybe the 70th stick since July. I remember staring at that blank white wall in front of me, thinking I’m damaged goods. Thinking I can’t give my husband a baby. Thinking this must be all my fault.

I remember the looks we used to give each other. Blaming one another for the emotional trauma going on in both of us. Not getting pregnant for 8 long months knocked our confidence levels down a serious few levels. I felt unwanted. How can a woman not get pregnant? Isn’t that what we are literally meant to do, literally what we were put on this planet for? My womanhood suffered. Due to the stresses at home, I started slacking at work. My free time was spent googling reasons for not getting pregnant, fertility help, and clinics we can go to. Marriage counseling was also something I frequently thought about.

Our sex life became dull. I resented my husband for even wanting to sleep with me. I resented the idea of getting naked with him, I resented EVERYTHING about the idea of a baby. How can we bring a baby into a broken marriage? How can that even be something we are still striving for, after all these months?

Clockwork. I started tracking my periods. I’m ovulating, he had to be available. The idea of sex with him a few days in a row didn’t entice me, so we timed it every other day. We timed sex. We timed kissing so that the perfect amount of foreplay is involved to interest us … again.

It nearly broke our marriage, the vows we promised to each other. It nearly broke everything. February came around and I had scheduled an appointment for us at a fertility clinic. We got a date. I felt hopeful, him not so much.

Later, I learned that I wasn’t alone in my depression. He felt emasculated and useless. His sex drive suffered. He hated the idea of doing anything with me when I wasn’t into it. He said he felt like he was forcing the idea and he felt horrible.

Then that fateful night on March 18th. I did yet another pee test. I was about to just chuck it into the garbage can, as per the many many others before it. When I noticed a second line. That second line. That was our newly established lifeline. I will never forget my husband noticing my silence and turning around to see me standing there, pants down, staring at the stick. I will never forget him walking into the bathroom to see if it was really true. I will never forget that hug.

The hug that came with it all the feelings we have both been keeping inside for so long. The doubt, the hate, the resentment. All of it came crashing onto us like waves of a long and drawn out cry. We cried together. In that moment, the little bean inside of me was what brought us together.

Why am I telling you?

They talk about post partum depression. They talk about baby blues, and the talk about anxiety. All the hormonal problems that come AFTER the baby. But they never discuss anything that happens before. And I only had 8 months of it. Some people go for years without any avail.

We need to, as moms, be mindful of women that are trying to get pregnant but can’t. That woman that you talk to about your baby might be broken inside because she doesn’t have one of her own. Ask about people’s experiences before sharing your own. Care about others before talking about yourself.

We are all going through something, and could all use a little bit of friendship.