When I reflect on my wedding day, several moments come to mind—the dress, the cake, dancing with my partner. Yet, a particularly memorable interaction occurred as we were leaving the church. A guest pulled me aside and asked when we planned to start a family. My husband and I had only been married for a few minutes.
What this relative didn’t realize was that I had polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS), a common cause of infertility in women. Uncertain about my own ability to conceive, I opted for a brief response: “We’ll see. Let’s enjoy being newlyweds for a while.”
By the time our second anniversary rolled around, we seriously considered expanding our family. My husband was eager to have a biological child, and I was open to the idea. Thus began our journey through fertility treatments. I instructed my reproductive endocrinologist to explore every option available, except IVF.
I underwent numerous procedures and medications: Metformin, Progesterone suppositories, Letrozole, Ovidrel, PIO, HSGs, and IUIs. Each month, I followed my endocrinologist’s instructions to take a pregnancy test. A few times, I saw a positive result, only to learn that the hCG levels were too low for a viable pregnancy.
The emotional toll was indescribable. Each positive test fueled our hopes, only to be dashed when bad news arrived. With the joy of our dreams turning into despair, we found ourselves grappling with the anguish of loss. Meanwhile, friends and family announced their pregnancies, which felt like salt in our wounds. I could mute their social media posts, but I couldn’t escape the reality of their joy in person.
Shortly before our third anniversary, a year after starting fertility treatments, I received another positive pregnancy test. This time, I was filled with dread, anticipating yet another disappointment. I called the doctor, and after my blood work, we received surprising news: the betas were low but viable. The medical team sounded optimistic, and for the first time, I allowed myself to envision a healthy pregnancy.
However, at seven weeks, complications arose with the discovery of two subchorionic hematomas, leading to bed rest. Then, at eleven weeks, I was diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum (HG), an extreme form of morning sickness. It left me unable to eat or drink, resulting in severe weight loss and mouth sores. Despite high-strength anti-nausea medications, nothing could alleviate the suffering.
As my pregnancy progressed, I developed heart issues and anemia due to malnutrition. My husband became my sole provider and caregiver, which took a toll on our relationship. Given HG’s high recurrence rate in subsequent pregnancies, we decided that one biological child would be enough.
When our son was born, healthy and blissful, I asked the nurses if he was truly mine. After everything we had endured, it was hard to believe he was finally here. Now, just months later, people are already inquiring about when he will have a sibling. I feel rushed, having barely adjusted to motherhood. The thought of undergoing fertility treatments again terrifies me, and I refuse to risk experiencing HG once more. I simply want to relish the joys of food, family, and life—all things I missed during my pregnancy.
Unlike my wedding day, I don’t shy away from discussing our family size. I know I don’t owe anyone an explanation, but I often provide one because the pain of infertility lingers, even after having a child. The stress of pregnancy complications is real and can be financially daunting. The emotional strain of striving to maintain a pregnancy is profound. Loss, whether from miscarriage, stillbirth, or the grief of an unfulfilled family dream, is traumatic. No one should feel pressured about family size.
I am ‘one and done’ for many reasons. It’s not medically safe for me to get pregnant again, and I want to be fully present for my son. I wish to celebrate his milestones without the anxiety of medical interventions. I fought hard for this life, and I want to cherish it. Most importantly, my husband and I have concluded that this is what is best for our family.
For those interested in exploring more about home insemination and fertility treatments, I recommend visiting some excellent resources, like what the IVF process is really like. You can also find helpful information on fertility boosters for men, which might be beneficial to know.
In conclusion, while I am grateful for my son, I am also aware of the emotional and physical toll of my journey. It’s essential to prioritize what is best for our family, and for us, that means being ‘one and done.’