Anonymous
My gut knew that I wanted to be a mother. Society knew that I needed a husband first. So, I was chasing a husband first.
I am now 43 years old. These are the only memories of children or motherhood that I can recall having before I actually tried for a child.
14 years old - I wrote an autobiography for English class and, in it, I mentioned that I would get married one day and have kids. (I still have this paper.)
21 years old - I was in the shower one day in my university apartment and a thought hit me that, if I ever become pregnant, I would provide the best for my child. I was graduating with a degree and I knew I would do my best to provide my child with a safe, loving home and life. I never envisioned a husband in that thought.
31 years old - I got engaged to a man who I believe had alcohol and gambling problems. I ended the engagement because I didn’t want my future children to have a father like that.
I didn’t worry about “the biological clock.” To me, that term was for unhealthy, desperate women. I was youthful and healthy, so fertility issues weren’t going to be a problem for me. No one told me different.
This is where my short fertility journey started:
39 years old:
March 2021: Before becoming engaged with a 45 year old man I dated for a year, we discussed having one child together. I said we would try for 6 months - if it happened it happened, if it didn’t it didn’t. He agreed. I asked him if he would get “checked out” with a doctor to make sure “everything was working right.” A few weeks later, he said he went to the doctor and the doctor said, “You don’t need to be checked. It’s usually the woman. If she isn’t pregnant in a few months, then come see me.” I didn’t like that answer, but I didn’t know any better, so I assumed all would be ok.
June 2021: We got engaged.
July 2021: We got married, then started trying for a child.
August 2021: Not pregnant. The building of our custom home got started and this process continued for a year.
September 2021: Not pregnant.
October 2021: Not pregnant. My family doctor referred us to a fertility clinic.
November 2021: My husband and I had tests done at the fertility clinic. Through a sperm sample, the doctor learned that my husband’s semen had zero sperm in it. Not slow, not low, but zero. None. This crushed my dreams of being pregnant with my husband’s sperm. We learned that he has no sperm because of a testosterone medication he is on. I was unaware of this medication and its effects. The fertility doctor said that if he goes off the medication, his sperm will rebuild in 3-12 months. I also learned about my egg quality that was typical for my age. And this is when I became determined to get pregnant as fast as I could because I was getting older by the day and our “6-month window of trying” was closing in. At the 6-month mark, my husband started to say, “You’re changing the goal post.” But in my mind, the first 6 months of trying didn’t count because there was no sperm, so it wasn’t a fair try. Was I right or was I wrong to keep trying? I don’t know.
April 2022: My husband’s sperm count had reached a point where the fertility clinic would try procedures. We were told that, with IUI, there was a 12% chance of a baby and it would be $600. Or, we could do IVF with a 20% chance of a baby at $18000. We, or maybe I, chose IUI - maybe we’ll get lucky. It was unsuccessful.
May 2022: We tried IUI again. It was unsuccessful.
July 2022: We borrowed $10000 from my parents, and decided to try IVF. One egg was fertilized in the petridish, which was implanted into me. Two weeks later, the blood test showed I wasn’t pregnant.
August 2022: I sold my previous home and we moved into our newly built home. I saved some money from my equity from the sale of my previous home to pay for another try at IVF. I asked my husband if we could try IVF one more time. He said yes.
September 1, 2022. My husband left me. He said he didn’t love me anymore and didn’t want a child.
I started to wonder if my husband even saw that doctor who didn’t test his sperm before we married. Why would his doctor, knowing he is on a medication that suppresses his production of sperm, tell him he doesn’t need to have his semen tested? I felt betrayed and tricked. I tried asking a lawyer if I can find out if that appointment ever happened and, if so, what the doctor’s notes were. But of course, that’s confidential.
This was a traumatic experience on many levels. And I am happier without a child of his.
After the first year of grieving, and moving again to a new home, I considered trying for a child on my own. My parents didn’t support the idea of donor sperm, so I decided to do this on my own without telling anyone. I had such a low chance of success with IVF at about $25000 now, that I went with the cheaper option of IUI with the donor sperm. I tried and it was unsuccessful. At that point, I knew I was done. I had no more money left and I felt I was getting too old to do it all alone.
I grew up with mental health troubles (bulimia, anxiety) and I just wasn’t mature enough to settle down in a healthy relationship. But I kept chasing the relationship because society and my family taught me that marriage comes first. When I finally felt mature enough in my late-thirties to be a good mom, I got married and longed for “family.” I also long for the feeling of pregnancy and birth, so I could know what that female experience was like. So I could feel a bond with my biological child. So I could fit in with other women.
I am a teacher and have been since I was 22. I’ve lived most of my life surrounded by 25+ kids. Maybe that gave me the chance to give maternal care to others, and my deep need for a child was lessened because of this? I don’t know.
I considered adoption or fostering. Though those options sound simple, they are complex. I wasn’t prepared to handle the unknowns that come with those options alone. I am currently looking into respite care and volunteering for vulnerable youth.
I won’t experience all that goes with having my own child. But, I know I’m a mom. I have the beautiful soul of one. I can give that to every child around me. That brings me absolute joy and always has.
When I was growing up, I appreciated single, childless women. It seemed like they had more time and love to give. So, I hope children see me that way, too. There is something beautiful about a woman who can give her whole self to others, without always running off to tend to their own kids. We matter in many people’s eyes.
Photo by Anton Darius on Unsplash