Pregnancy After Infertility

After trying to conceive for three years, becoming pregnant feels shocking and unbelievable. Even at 31 weeks, even feeling my baby moving and kicking inside of me, even being able to see that movement from the outside, even hearing the heartbeat at every appointment and getting all positive news from the doctor, it doesn't feel real. Aside from the denial, there are a lot of other feelings and thoughts that circulate through my head on a daily basis that I wonder if people who got pregnant via natural means in a reasonable amount of time experience. I sort of doubt that they do.

The first question I ask myself is, did we rush into embryo adoption? Obviously people who conceived quickly by natural means do not ask themselves this question. For the most part, I don't concern myself with what-ifs in regards to this pregnancy. I feel that God opened doors for us, laid certain things on our hearts, and orchestrated our embryo selection and transfer to give us this outcome. It's hard, maybe impossible, to regret this path we chose considering that it's the path that has given us this child. It worked, so how could it have been the wrong choice? But sometimes, I'll hear someone telling their story. They will have struggled to conceive for just a little longer than we did before getting pregnant naturally. And I think, did I not have enough faith? Did I throw in the towel too soon? If we had tried just a few months, a year longer, would we have been able to conceive on our own? I don't find that a child conceived naturally is better than a child conceived via IVF or some other assistive reproductive technology. I don't find biological children superior to adopted children. But in any case, a child conceived naturally through timed intercourse is a lot cheaper. Money is not the most important thing in life, and I'm quite happy with our special, adopted baby. I think it's so cool that this child was once a frozen embryo, that they were in a freezer for years before they were thawed and placed inside of me. It's amazing that I can carry this child, though I didn't "make" it. I look forward to being able to tell the story to my child and to anyone who wants to know. Yeah, sometimes I wonder if things would be different if we waited a little longer, but I am pregnant now. So how can I have any regrets?

Even though we were fortunate to conceive on our first round of embryo adoption, it was only after years of setbacks and disappointments. When I was struggling to conceive a child, the last thing I wanted to hear was an expectant mother whining about being tired or a mother to small children complaining about a messy house. I would think, do you know how many people would kill to have some morning sickness or tons of little laundry to do? Now that I'm here, I really don't wanna complain. I'll be honest, though, sometimes pregnancy isn't fun. I've had the heartburn, the fatigue, and, now that I'm bigger, the shortness of breath. After a while, it is hard to bend over, it's hard to sleep, it's hard to sit for long periods of time, and, on the other hand, it's hard to stand for long periods of time. And for some reason, I keep getting tonsil stones. But any time someone asks me how I'm feeling, no matter how big of a lie it is, I tell them I'm doing really well! I feel great! I have nothing to complain about! In comparison to some other ladies, I have actually had a very easy pregnancy, though, and I'm really grateful for that. I try my best to feel grateful always, even on the days where everything feels a bit more overwhelming. So I may complain to my husband, but to other people, I keep any of my problems to myself.

Part of the reason I don't want to complain, aside from trying to focus on gratitude, is that I don't want to trigger other people. I know that most pregnant women don't have this mindset. Most people don't think about the one in five couples experiencing infertility when they share their positive pregnancy test on social media, when they get their first ultrasound photo, when they have their gender reveal, when they have their maternity photoshoot done. Why would you? It's a time of great joy for the pregnant couple and for their family. It's not purposefully offensive, it's not intended to be cruel. But after several years of resenting pregnancy announcements and feeling personally victimized by bump shots on social media, it's just not possible for me to share my experiences in good conscience. Even if I feel like, after all my struggles, I deserve to celebrate, loud and proud in public, I know that there are people out there that it may hurt. I know I post about being pregnant here on my blog, but if you look at my instagram or my YouTube channel, you'll notice a distinct lack of pregnancy-related content. Aside from wanting to keep my life somewhat private, it's mostly because I don't want to unintentionally burden any of my friends who may be silently struggling with the same issues I had.

It's unavoidable in real, life, though. I can't keeping concealing the fact that I'm pregnant forever. I'm lucky that I've really only just started properly "showing" within the last few weeks. Just a few days ago was the first time someone asked me if I was pregnant based on my appearance. I'm sure other people have been wondering, but have been too polite (and rightly so) to ask. I don't wear tight fitting clothes; my style involves wearing loose fitting shirts and cardigans over top of everything, but I am getting rounder and rounder. Soon, it won't matter what I'm wearing. Everyone will be able to tell. I'm not sure if it's because I don't want to feel like I'm parading around in my current state, subjecting everyone to look upon my fecundity, but I'm honestly kind of embarrassed by my appearance. Do other pregnant women feel this way? Do we all hate the attention our distended middles attract? Or is it just me? So I try not to rub my belly or hold it in such a way that people would be more inclined to notice. I try to walk at a normal pace, I try to stand up straight, without jutting my gut out. It's getting harder to do, but sometimes, I try to "suck it in."

I feel like I have to justify my pregnancy sometimes. I don't want people to perceive of me as one of those happy-go-lucky, taking-it-for-granted, fertile people. It's like this compulsive need to tell people that it "took us a long time" when they talk to me about my pregnancy. Sometimes, I want to go into all the details. I want them to know that I'm actually still infertile, that I didn't find a cure to my problem, that this child is adopted because we couldn't have a child on our own. I want people to know how exceedingly grateful I am, how I know blessed I am, what a miracle of science this is. Maybe it's a weird pride issue, but I want people to know that it wasn't easy and, because of that, my pregnancy is truly special. (I deserve this!) This is no run-of-the-mill baby. I hand selected it, I paid a lot of money for a doctor to put it in me. Most people don't even know what embryo adoption is. I want anyone who asks me about my pregnancy to be aware of it. Don't get me wrong, I don't necessarily think my mindset is totally healthy in regards to my pregnancy. My thoughts and feelings are driven by insecurity, by bitterness. I'm closing in on my "happy ending," on getting to hold my baby in my arms. But I still bear the scars of infertility, I still carry the burden and the trauma of years of failed cycles. I still resent people who came by pregnancy quickly. It gets a little better, day by day, especially as I watch my baby grow and move. This baby is mine, completely, the same as if we had conceived it on our own, but I just wish the process had been a little easier.