I have been thinking a lot about trying to have a second baby lately. After the doctors, medications, and miracles that
finally brought my husband and I a daughter, we both recognized that she would likely be our only child. While I was pregnant with her and after her birth, we were both at peace with that fact. After all, she was more than we ever thought we would be fortunate to have. We knew it pretty much took a village to bring us a daughter, what would it take to bring her a sibling? I did not want to spend her childhood years spinning my wheels with additional fertility treatments. Instead, I wanted to revel in her every step of development. I wanted to enjoy her and I wanted her to enjoy us.
And yet.
I recently went for my physical when my
doctor asked me, “Are you going to try to give your child a sibling?”
My response was glib, “Not today!”
I thought I was being so clever. Her response slapped that thought right out my head when she commented, “If you want
to try for a second, you need to do so now, you are not getting any younger.”
I attempted humor again and sarcastically questioned, “I am not? Are you sure?”
Stoically, she advised me if I had any plans to try, I needed to start immediately.
My pregnancy was difficult, my delivery was laden with dangers, and my recovery, ugh, I shudder to remember. And yet, I do
want to have another baby. I don’t want my daughter to be an only child.
Only children get a lot of flak. Trust me, I am a teacher, the phrase, “Well, so and so IS an only child,” is reserved for
a certain type of behavior. If you are unfamiliar with that connotation, it includes entitlement, narcissism, and just basically uncompromising. I never want that phrase uttered after my child’s name, for many reasons, including the literal one.
Additionally, I love my sister so much and can’t imagine not having the experience of providing my daughter with all the
benefits that encompasses having a sibling.
The truth is, we have two promising embryos left. Just two. There will not be any more egg extractions, because for many
reasons, that ship has sailed. My eggs are older now (if there are even any left, who is kidding who?) and the risk is just too high. This means we have literally one chance to bring our daughter a sibling.
There is a part of me that wanted to hold on to the embryos forever, just to know that they were there and the possibility
was always there, but I want more than the possibility, I want another child. I just don't know if I am ready to face the end of this journey quite yet.
Having my daughter made it all worth it. The medications, the shots, the ups and downs. Ending the treatments with her birth allows us to have a happily ever after. Am I ready to compromise that ending?
And so the debate begins.