In less that two weeks, Thing 1 and Thing 2 will have a birthday. They will be two.
Most parents rejoice at their children’s birthdays. And I do too. I’m glad they’re alive and healthy and growing. I’m so happy they’re mine. I feel blessed at the two incredibly miracles hubby and I have been blessed with.
But a little part of my heart breaks too. Because every birthday that passes without another baby means another year we’ve been wanting and praying and hoping for more kids without success. And it’s hard. Hard to realize there will be a three to four year age gap between our kids, minimum. In vitro isn’t cheap. Hard to realize that I no longer have babies, but little boys. Hard to realize time is flying by so quickly. Hard to realize all our hoping and wishing and praying hasn’t yet yielded results.
I’ve even started telling people I don’t want more kids right now. The twins are too big of a handful, I say. If we don’t have more soon I might decide we’re done because this is hard. Two is enough. It isn’t true, but something I try to convince myself of so it won’t hurt each month when I know it hasn’t happened.
I live in Utah Valley. It is like the hotbed of reproducing young couples. I have endured more pregnancy announcements over the last few months than I care to think about. And I’m happy for those people. Really, I am. But with each one, it becomes harder to smile and say, “Congratulations.” It hurts more.
What’s been really hard for me lately is that a lot of these friends,acquaintances, and family members who are announcing their upcoming bundles of joy have a baby younger than the twins. These people all have children born roughly the same time as mine. Some of these women have already given birth and are home from the hospital with their new gift from heaven.
And we’re still here. Still infertile.
I know it’s not a contest, and I shouldn’t compare us to other people, but I do. It’s human nature. They are having kids, and we aren’t. They’re moving forward, and we’re standing still. That’s life. It sucks, but there’s nothing we can do about it right now.
But every week in church, when someone says, “Isn’t it about time you have another one?” it hurts. Every time someone announces their pregnancy, it hurts. Every time I see a baby or a pregnant lady (and they are EVERYWHERE) it hurts. Every time someone tells me to just have faith and pray harder and it will miraculously happen (without medical intervention), it hurts. Like we don’t have another baby because we aren’t faithful enough, instead of because I have a disease (or two). Sure, the twins were a pretty miraculous conception. But I don’t think that’s going to happen again. Every time someone tells me, “You just need to pray harder,” it’s like saying, “Your severe tubal disease and PCOS isn’t real. Get over it.”
Hopefully it will happen soon. Hopefully we really can do in vitro next year. Hopefully it will work. So much relies on hope and Heavenly Father and medical science.
But for now, I’m going to try and forget about what I don’t have and just be incredibly grateful for the two angels I have been blessed with.
