Do I Have the Right to Want More?

home insemination Kit

Waking up to my adorable, grinning son feels like a scene from a movie. This is my actual life. My child is warm, giggly, and full of hugs. So why do I feel like it’s not enough?

As my partner, Tom, pours cereal for Max and I brush his favorite Toy Story toothbrush with toothpaste, guilt washes over me. I look around and see the love surrounding us. The warmth of the floor beneath my feet on this chilly morning, the sound of Max chatting about the new drone he wants for his birthday, and our little dog, Bella, excitedly pacing back and forth, eagerly awaiting her morning walk.

Again, I wonder, why isn’t this enough?

Inside, I feel like I’m in mourning. For the past year and a half, Tom and I have been trying to conceive a second child, but so far, we’ve had no luck. All the charting, testing, and hopeful prayers haven’t brought us any closer to our goal. To say I feel incomplete is an understatement.

Tom is an incredible dad to Max, who was just three when Tom entered his life following my tumultuous divorce. We were childhood friends who reconnected later in life, and having another child wasn’t initially part of our plans. But once Tom fell for Max and we tied the knot, the desire for a baby began to blossom. I had been pregnant twice before—one ending in an early miscarriage and the other resulting in the chubbiest, happiest baby boy. How hard could this be? We were ready.

Months passed, and soon, dread settled in. Every month felt like my body was rebelling against me. We were “doing everything right.” We’re madly in love, great parents, educated, and Tom is a successful chef. So what could possibly be the issue?

Eventually, tears found their way to my gynecologist’s office, leading to a series of tests. After countless checks and samples, we were relieved to hear everything appeared normal. Yes! Perhaps it was just a matter of time.

But time rolled on, and nothing changed. Friends shared their pregnancy news, and all I could do was smile and congratulate them while crying behind closed doors. I felt guilty for my self-pity, but the truth was I longed to see that coveted “+” sign once more. I longed for the moment when I could share the news with Tom and see his beaming smile.

A year has now passed, and after another round of consultations with obstetricians and reproductive specialists, we’re still in the dark about our infertility. I feel as though I’ve lost something—what exactly, I’m not sure. The guilt I carry may be worse than the grief. How dare I feel this way? I have so much already. I’m lucky! Many people never experience pregnancy or childbirth, and I was fortunate enough to carry Max. My body did its job, producing a healthy, beautiful baby.

Not only did I receive the gift of a wonderful child, but I also found genuine love in Tom—deep, passionate love that swept me away. So how can I possibly feel sorry for myself? Yet, I can’t shake this feeling of being broken and empty. I fear that when Tom and I are gone, Max will lack someone to reminisce about “Mom and Dad” with. I worry he won’t experience the sibling bond that Tom and I treasure so deeply. I have an unbreakable connection with my siblings, and I fear Max will lack this experience because of me.

Despite my fears, we refuse to give up. We’ll keep trying. I’ll continue taking my prenatals “just in case,” and Tom will stick to his Zinc for better sperm quality. I’m not sure if we’ll ever stop trying. In fact, we have another appointment lined up with a reputed reproductive endocrinologist who could be our miracle. Perhaps this time will finally be the charm.

As I step into the kitchen where Tom and Max are still enjoying breakfast, I realize this may be our family’s final chapter: Tom, Max, Bella, and me. Standing there, watching my sweet son and loving partner, my eyes fill with tears, but they’re not tears of despair. Instead, they’re tears of love and gratitude. In that moment, it dawns on me that this is enough. We are a happy, healthy family, rich in love and respect. If this is how our family is meant to be, then it truly is enough for me.