Why I Stopped Trying to Conceive: A Guest Post by English Anderson

The following post is written by English. English entered my life as a little girl, and I have been closely tied to her family for nearly as long as I can remember. In fact, I was the one who taught her to drive. And my little English is now a grown-up, dog-loving WOMAN married to a wonderful man (named Timmy) and working hard as a military wife. She's an amazing photographer and a woman who knows her mind. She sent me this post -- and I share it here. It causes my heart pain and joy -- both -- as I know where she is and where she was but not where she is going.

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I say “I” because, to be honest, my husband didn’t have much to do with this. Well, much to do in the sense that he couldn’t be the one to tell me when enough was enough, or when too much was too much. He was a part of all decision making, but I had the greater say because I had the greater pain. This is also not for someone looking for a happy ending, because I haven’t found that yet ... well, at least not in the typical sense. I also have the tendency to start things in the middle, so let’s try this again. To the beginning.

September 2008: Meet

July 2010: Married

August 2010:  Begin TTC (trying to conceive)

That’s the beginning. Young couple, in love, freshly married at 22/23, ready to begin life.  There’s a stage to set here, one that helps make sense of why anyone at 22 would think to start a family -- not just marriage, but a bonafide child-filled house. You see, the military world is slightly different ... not just military, but enlisted military world, a topic I could rant about for hours. At 22, I was one of the few who didn’t already have at least one if not two children. Fast forward a few years into our fertility issues, and I became an anomaly. Now? Unheard of.  I have zero friends my age at our current base who don’t have children. 

I heard once that your brain doesn’t fully develop until 25, so it makes sense that we weren’t really thinking things through when we started trying to conceive. In my head, it would happen perfectly. I wouldn’t have to be pregnant in the overly hot California summer, I’d look super cute in my fall maternity wear, and no babies too close to Christmas because that’s not fair to anyone. The ideal situation. So, month after month I’d confidently sit myself down and expect a positive. And month after month, it was okay when it said no. Then it started being less okay, and then it started hurting, and then it started making me dread the end of every month because there would be another no waiting for me, no doubt about that. Month after month, I slowly began lashing out at everyone.  Month after month, I drive off anyone who announces they’ve become pregnant. Not proud of it, but it’s the truth.

June 2015.  I’m turning 27, we’re celebrating our 5 year anniversary in Europe (yay for military living), and it’s year 5 of trying to conceive. I’ve lost approximately 4 or 5 close friends who managed to get pregnant within the first few months of trying, and I legitimately couldn’t cope. My husband carries tissues with him everywhere we go. I have some friends who are also dealing with fertility issues, but I’m zero help because I hate everyone and everything.  Those end of month No’s have steadily changed my dread to full fledged self-hatred and feelings of incompetence. Yes, I’ve had the tests done.  No, they can’t find anything wrong. Yes, I’ve gotten the referrals to specialists. No, I don’t have any more news. This event, or lack of event, has taken over everything in me and has turned me into a legitimate monster. So, I turn 27 and I offer myself a birthday present.  No more trying to conceive.

Honey, it’s like a weight has been lifted from shoulders. All that negativity, all that pressure, all that expectation was gone. I finally had a freedom I hadn’t felt in years, a lightness that hadn’t existed since our first anniversary. I was free from that little box I had forced myself to live inside, and it felt gooooooood.  That was 2.5 years ago, and I have yet to regret my little birthday gift to myself. Don’t get me wrong, there are still hard days. 

“When are you guys starting a family?!” 

“Aren’t you being selfish by not having kids?” 

“You’ll regret not having kids early, soon it’ll be too late.” 

“Well, have you tried this or this?  It worked for my friend’s cousin’s coworker.”

“We had fertility problems for a couple years, and then it just magically happened.  It will for you, too!”

I still have issues being the positive force when my friends have fertility issues. I’m not quite in a zone where I can comfortably talk about my own experiences or my own heartbreak yet. Maybe I never will be? That’s okay, because there are plenty, like Wendi, who are willing to be that beacon of hope. The questions still hurt, and the thought of failure still hurts. But, overall, I’m happy I’ve chosen this path for myself. There might be kids in our future, yay adoption!, but I’m also very okay if there aren’t. You see, part of that present to myself was accepting the fact that being a mom isn’t the end all be all to my life. I can be so much more: a wife, a flight attendant, a photographer, a traveler, a dog lover, a student, a snarky older sister. My list of identities is pretty endless. Maybe mom will be added at some point; maybe not.

I’ve had the urge to write this for about a year now, and I kept deleting every draft. No one really needs or wants to hear what I have to say on the matter. Yet, for some reason, I keep sitting to write it all out again. I think it’s because somewhere out there is someone who is sitting where I sat a couple years ago, and who needs to hear these words: It’s okay to leave everything where it is. It’s okay to let go for a while, and come back to it later. It’s okay to stop prioritizing the future over your current well being. It’s okay to step back and say enough is enough.  And it’s perfectly okay to change your mind about what you want in life.

This has to be the most disjointed thing I’ve ever written, my apologies. While there are tons of success stories out there, but this isn’t one of them, not in the traditional sense. I’d argue and say that I’ve been pretty successful at understanding my own limitations better out of all of this, but I’d also say that this isn’t necessarily a happy ending. It’s an ending that works best for me.  And that’s okay, too.

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**I may or may not come back to answer questions and comments, but I’ll try and head some of them off.  No, we did not go through AI or IVF or any hormone medications.  That was a personal choice for us based on our personal points of view; there’s nothing wrong with those options!  No, we have not stopped trying.  We aren’t as actively pursuing it, but we also don’t utilize any contraceptives.