Admitting infertility to yourself is probably a time in your life where you see yourself at your most raw. I am so lucky to have a little boy who fills my life but he is my only child, not through choice.
Having Jack was not easy. I struggled to get pregnant. Eventually through the help of a lovely consultant called Kent who made me believe I could have a child, along with his Dad who always believed we could do this and with a little help from a drug called Clomid, Jack came into my life. Since Jack I’ve had an ectopic pregnancy which almost took my life along with my left tube. I had no idea I was pregnant so while lying in Loughlinstown hospital awaiting someone to look at me a nurse announcing ‘you do know you’re pregnant’ was quite a shock.
Moreover I knew that something serious must be wrong due to the amount of pain that I was in. The hospital was doing a changeover so I had been there for almost 2 hours with no one attending to me. I got my partner to ring Holles Street and tell them that we thought I was having an ectopic pregnancy. Conor was instructed to go and get someone’s attention immediately as this was quite serious.
A doctor eventually came to my bedside and asked me what was wrong. I explained that I had only found out I was pregnant and that I may be having an ectopic pregnancy. His face said it all and he asked how long I had been here for, to which I replied at that stage at least 3.5 hours. He rushed off to organise an ambulance which took another 1.5 hrs to come and I was rushed to Holles Street.
I didn’t know what would meet me there as I was not sure what it meant to have an ectopic pregnancy. I was brought up to another ward where nurses tried to scan me all the while looking a little vague while I was in horrific pain. A surgeon came into the room and asked the nurses to stop what they were doing. He showed them on the screen that they were never going to see anything as all that was visible on the screen was blood as I was bleeding internally.
I’ll never forget how gentle he was as he took my hand and asked me if I had any children. I answered yes and he explained that he could not guarantee what I may lose once he brought me into theatre. I cried so hard as I was rushed outside a theatre where they prepared me to go in. The nurse beside me explained that I was being brought into a room where a baby was about to be born but they had no choice as they didn’t have any time to waste. As I was wheeled in, a baby boy had just been born, I could see him being lifted to the weighing scales.
The antitheist shook as she tried to get me knocked out as quickly as possible. I awoke 9 hours later feeling worse for wear and left the hospital the following day in a daze finding it hard to come to terms with what had just happened.
Following this I’ve tried to become pregnant in the last 4 years without success. I’ve been on medication, done acupuncture, you name it I’ve done it. In May of last year we decided to go to the Merrion Fertility Clinic as time was ticking by with no luck on becoming pregnant. The consultant explained to me that science was the only thing that could make us pregnant and after 6 months of agonising over IVF we decided that it wasn’t for us.
I don’t know how to explain it, only that it’s a very personal choice about going down the route of IVF and something I don’t think I was mentally able for. Coming to terms with our decision, I had started to tell people of our decision and was happy to move on. 6 months later I was shocked to find out I was pregnant out the blue we were on top of the world. Unfortunately 6 weeks later I had a miscarriage and found myself back in that ward in Holles Street. As I sat in Holles Street losing this baby I really didn’t know how I was going to pull myself together. My feeling of loss was so huge this time around that I knew I would not be able to put a smile on as I usually do and say “I’m good” when the truth is I’m broken and probably always will be.
How I cope is being thankful for what I do have and trying not to zone in on what I don’t have. Sounds simple but it’s not. Some days are easier than others and social situations can be very difficult with people constantly ask me why I don’t have more children. If people only knew the heartache I’ve gone through to try and have a sibling for Jack.
I do believe that having a child that you have struggled for and knowing that you won’t have another one makes you realise that you are not unlucky but lucky and I understand how lucky I am to have Jack. I’m not a natural earth mother, I wanted to have another child so that Jack had a sibling and knew what that was like but that’s not meant to be, so you adjust and try make the best of the cards you were dealt.
A lot of people might think having one child is not a cross to bear but the pain of not being able to have the choice of having more children is something that I will take to my grave. I see the pain on people’s faces in different circles. I don’t need to ask them are they trying for a baby, it’s written all over the faces when certain subjects are brought up.
It changes you as a person, it tilts everything and makes life a little cloudier, that you can’t fit in like everyone else. I find myself counting how many kids people have around the pool while on holidays, torture I know, but somehow I just feel inferior that I cannot produce a bigger family.
I don’t want it to define me so we try our best to have as much fun with Jack so that he grows up knowing I tried, I failed and it hurt like hell but we made the best of the situation and hopefully he leads a full life with the family he’s got and it won’t define him in the future for being an only child.
A lucky mother of one.
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