Last week, I had a piece on secondary infertility published, and the comments did not turn out at all as I expected. The Motherlode had published a piece on secondary infertility several years ago, but it had been written by a woman who had two healthy children and was close to 40. I’ve heard a lot lately about younger women with secondary infertility, and I thought that was an important story to tell.
I wrote the piece and sent it off in March, when Greg and I had been trying for 13 months. I was not yet pregnant, and I did not know when (or if) I would be pregnant again. I felt that it was important not to revise it later because infertility is nothing if not uncertain. When you’re in the middle of it, you don’t know whether that is the month you will get pregnant. Every month comes with that hope, and then, so often at the end, disappointment.
Also, I am only pregnant. I’m grateful, very much so. But I’ve been pregnant three times before.
I guess all that I wanted to say is that I feel badly about some of the reactions. I am sorry that women going through infertility will read that article and see comments about how they must be bad people. I had hoped to spark a discussion about medical care and about the need for women to trust their own feelings in the face of doubt.
I try my best to surround myself with supportive, loving people, and to act that way toward others. I suppose sometimes I forget how even a cupful of negativity seems to spoil an ocean of goodness.