Infertility hurts

A handful of people know that we've been trying to have another baby. Others have probably guessed, but I've kept it pretty close to my chest. I was really hoping that this time around it would just happen. That somehow my first pregnancy would've flicked a switch in my body and it would just know what to do to get pregnant this time around. I was hoping, actually wishing, my infertility would've gone away and I wouldn't have to go through all this pain again. But here we are after trying for almost 6 months and we're no closer to being pregnant than we were when we started.

It was at this point when trying for bub that I pretty much had a breakdown and went to the fertility Dr to start treatment. I spent 3½ years prior to that trying to conceive with my ex-husband so I knew after 6 months of nothing happening that I didn't want to waste any more time. I didn't want the roller-coaster of emotions to go on any longer than it had to. This time though it's felt different, at least I thought it did. I thought I was coping.

The last few months I've felt much more relaxed than I did the first time around. Already having a child now I haven't been as desperate as I was before. I know its possible for me to get pregnant and I already have a gorgeous little girl who I get to hang out with every day. My life hasn't been hinging on pregnancy tests each month like it was the first time. There have still been pregnancy tests every now and then {thanks to my body being all over the place and giving me false hope}, but there haven't been as many. Because I know how heartbreaking it is watching that ink run across the test window, hoping and praying for a second line to appear. Those 3 minutes seem like a lifetime and then just like that they're over and that one single line is the most depressing thing you've ever seen. Its amazing how a bit of ink on a piece of paper can so vehemently crush you. Well not this time round. I've taken a few tests, but I've rarely allowed myself to get my hopes up. Only once did I actually think I might be pregnant, but I convinced myself I wasn't so the negative test wasn't as hard to swallow.

I thought I was handling it. I thought I was stronger than last time. I have a thicker skin afterall. I've been there, done that and most of all I know it can work. I know there can be success and I thought that knowledge would be enough to get me through. But its not. It's becoming so apparent that its not.

This week I burst into tears after seeing a pregnancy announcement. It wasn't because I'm not happy for them, I'm so so happy for them, it was just a {completely unexpected} knee jerk reaction. Reality smacked me over the head. For some reason that single moment made it glaringly obvious to me that no matter how much I want to get pregnant I can't just decide I want it to work and have it happen. Other people can decide they want a baby and have a baby, and I just can't. And I'm not ok with that. Suddenly, in a split second, all of the feelings came rushing back and the only way I can process that is by crying. The emotional floodgates have opened. I can feel it.

I'm back to feeling inadequate. I'm back to feeling like I'm not a real woman, because I know my body can't do what its meant to be able to do. And that hurts. It hurts so much. It hurts just as much as the first time. I thought it was different the second time around, but its exactly the same, I'd just built up much higher walls around my feelings, but right now they're crumbling all around me and I don't know what to do.

I don't want to be here again. I don't want to be on this roller-coaster. I don't want to feel helpless. I don't want to look at bub and just see time ticking away and realise that there might be a huge age gap between her and a sibling, or that she might end up being an only child. I don't want to be seeing the world this way again, but I don't want to get off this ride either. I don't give up and I won't. I can't. I have to hold onto the hope that we will still have another baby, even if it means more fertility treatment. I just wish I still had rose coloured glasses on and could pretend it wasn't hurting so much.

I know it has nothing to do with the pregnancy announcement either, that was simply a catalyst to something that would've happened eventually. Apparently you can push your feelings down as hard as possible, but eventually they find a way to bubble back up to the surface.

But, I know things are never as bad as they seem and there's always hope so I'll put a smile on my face and keep holding onto that {and cuddle all my friends adorable babies until we can have another one ourselves}.

Toni x