A few weeks ago, I shared the joyful news of my pregnancy on Facebook. It was a bittersweet moment for me, as I vividly recalled the heartache that such announcements had caused me not too long ago. Despite my reservations, I yearned to publicly celebrate my own journey. I later realized that my post might lead others to believe that this experience came easily; after all, I hadn’t shared with many friends that I was pursuing single motherhood by choice—my family was completely unaware too.
Facing the Reality of Fertility
I didn’t post in January about my disappointingly low AMH levels, which indicated I was in the lowest 5% for my age in terms of fertility. I kept silent about the countless hours I spent in therapy, grappling with the fears of being in my mid-30s, single, and desperately wanting to become a mom while feeling that time was slipping away. I harbored deep worries that I had “waited too long,” fearing that my dedication to my education and career had cost me the chance at motherhood.
The Struggles of Insemination
When I began inseminations at the end of March, I remained tight-lipped. I didn’t share with anyone when I started progesterone due to a luteal phase defect, nor when I began taking Clomid. In June, after experiencing a very early miscarriage, or “chemical pregnancy,” only two friends knew about it, as I had confided in them when I saw those two pink lines appear on my test. For almost a day, I felt elated until the spotting started, leading to a painful morning filled with bright red blood and a visit for blood work. By Monday, my pregnancy was no more, leaving me utterly heartbroken.
Seeking Help and Battling Doubts
I kept my visits to a new reproductive endocrinologist in late June under wraps as well. My hormone levels had declined further, my FSH had surged to near peri-menopausal levels, and my ovaries showed very few signs of activity—one was described as “quiet,” while I called it lazy. Only my therapist was privy to the full story. It was another round of tears in her office as I battled the belief that motherhood was beyond my reach, convinced my body was flawed.
Feeling Resentful and Isolated
I found myself feeling resentful toward my friends who were mothers. I would scroll through Facebook, avoiding “likes” on their photos and pregnancy announcements, each post a reminder of the life I longed for. The platform felt like a minefield, and I even considered deactivating my account entirely.
The Monotony of Trying
Months passed, filled with the monotony of buying pregnancy tests and ovulation predictor kits. I grew tired of the routine, constantly monitoring my body for any signs of ovulation or pregnancy. Each negative test felt like a punch in the gut, and the sight of blood on the toilet paper would send me into tears.
Unexpected Encounters
I didn’t share the details of my last insemination, where I unexpectedly ran into an old sorority sister at the IVF clinic. Seeing her was a mix of embarrassment and shared understanding as we both navigated our own journeys.
The Hidden Struggles
I also kept hidden the financial strain of purchasing kits and tests, the side effects of Clomid, and the debilitating depression that accompanied the stress of infertility. Instead, I only revealed my happy news of expecting a child, fully aware that several of my Facebook friends were still on their own difficult paths toward parenthood. When that sorority sister messaged me to congratulate me, I felt a wave of guilt wash over me—I was now on the other side of this journey.
Living with Anxiety
More often than not, I still relate more closely to women battling infertility than to those who are pregnant or already mothers. I feel as if I am an outsider in this new reality, worrying that any moment I could receive a call from my doctor saying, “Sorry! There’s been a mistake! You’re not really pregnant.” The anxiety of potentially losing this baby lingers, a constant reminder of how fragile this journey can be. After so many months of yearning and feeling hopeless, to finally find myself pregnant is both exhilarating and bewildering. The pain of my struggle and the stark reality of my diagnosis regarding diminished ovarian reserve are still fresh in my mind, making me all the more appreciative of this pregnancy.
Choosing Anonymity
This feeling is so intense that I prefer to remain anonymous. You won’t find these raw emotions reflected in my Facebook post.
Conclusion
In conclusion, if you’re on a similar journey, know that you are not alone. For more insights, you can explore resources on fertility insurance here, and learn about boosting fertility with supplements here. Also, if you’re interested in home insemination, check out this post for helpful information.