Infertility Made Me a Better Mom. And a Worse One.

We’re gearing up to start the IVF process for our second baby. That’s probably not something I’m supposed to say publicly. But I’m not hiding it this go-around.

With Bennett, we kept every step of treatment under wraps until it was “safe” to share—once I was into my second trimester. And can I tell you how incredibly lonely that was? I’ve never felt more isolated in my life. This large and looming and life-changing thing was happening in every crevice of our lives, yet we weren’t supposed to talk about it. Out of fear of jinxing it. Of making people uncomfortable. Of being too much.

For nearly a year, we were undergoing different pieces of treatment while keeping it quiet. It felt like a secret, something I was meant to be ashamed of. “We can’t do this on our own, so we’re getting help. Incredibly invasive, painful, expensive help.”

I don’t want to do that again. I’m proud of what we’re doing to grow our family. And honestly, I also found such solace in watching other people walk in this space. It helped me know what to expect, where to set my expectations, and gave me a light at the end of the tunnel. If there’s any chance I can be that for someone else, then it’s worth sharing.

I yearned to be a mom. I dreamed. I waited and waited. I prayed, I begged and pleaded. I longed for it in a way that felt like my heart might actually collapse under the weight of the waiting. Every setback, let down, and loss felt crushing and impossible. That pain doesn’t leave you. Even once you have a baby in your arms, the grooves have been carved, the ink dried.

With the potential of adding a second baby to our family living largely in our heads right now, of course I’ve been thinking about what that looks like. And how Bennett came to us. And how infertility shaped me, for better or worse.

How Infertility Made Me a Better Mom.