The experiences of the infertilite in the fertilite world are often befuddling. I have had such strange advice about having a second child, and even stranger questions, that I usually have to keep from cocking my head to the side and thinking out loud, “Is that really how normal people feel?” Here is some of what I’ve had to contend with and, in some cases, explain in polite terms.
“I was a surprise, too, and I turned out okay.” I didn’t hide the fact that I didn’t plan on getting pregnant so quickly after having my son. But I didn’t plan on it because, as you know, I didn’t think I’d be able to beat the odds for a second time. As in ever. So yeah, surprise! But how do you explain that to someone who doesn’t know the whole history or background, without getting into it and turning it into a weird and awkward conversation? You don’t. You just go with it and move on.
“You must have been in shock when you found out [that you were pregnant].” A close friend asked me this about a month ago while we were having lunch. And I admitted that yes, yes I was – for the reasons mentioned above. “You have to remember,” I said to my friend, “I spent most of my maternity leave coming to terms with the fact that I’d have to be satisfied with one child. That as much as I didn’t want my son to be alone and without siblings, the reality would be that he very likely would. And that’s when I got pregnant.” My friend’s eyes went wide as he threw down his sandwich and leaned back in his chair. “Holy crap!” he said. “I never even thought of that!” Yeah, so that’s men for you. He really didn’t have much to say after that. I’m pretty sure he’s still processing that information.
“So, is this it?” This from a nurse, her eyes darting between my 15-month old son and my ready-to-explode belly. “God bless you,” she said, shaking her head and smiling, as if to say that she felt sorry for me and for the next two years of my life. But I don’t know how to answer that question, “Is this it?” I don’t even know how to answer that to my husband. When one of the OBs in my practice asks me, “And are you having your tubes done, too?” and I say, “No,” even I have to wonder why that’s my answer. And the best reasons I could think of are this: after years of struggle, heartache, rationalizing, hoping, hurting, and celebrating, it feels like the wrong answer to say “Yes, that’s it,” at this point. It feels like a huge disrespect to my body, which has given me two incredible gifts after it seemed to have failed me for so long. In theory, I really don’t want to be pregnant again. In theory, there are lots of other ways to make sure that doesn’t happen that doesn’t involve further severing an already flawed organ.
Plus, it’s a little gauche to say, “Do I get a discount if I only have one tube tied?”