Tag: feelings

colorful balloons in sunny sky

Learning to Embrace My Life – Focusing on the Positives of Having an Only Child

Erica2 Comments

Emotions are so very strange – I realized I think I am at a point where I no longer want another child. If I could snap my fingers and magically be pregnant today, I don’t think I would do it.

I’m not sure it would be the best choice for our family. I’m not sure we could afford it. I’m not sure my mental health could take it. I’m not sure it would be the best thing for my son, or for my marriage… I don’t know that I could still have the energy to be the type of mother I want to be…the list could go on.

It’s strange to say, but struggling with infertility has allowed (or forced) me to have the opportunity to evaluate my needs, my family’s needs, and our available resources. And the more I am truly honest with myself about it, the more I am beginning to slowly wonder if having one child may be the best thing for our family…

But I’m still sad about it. Bitter and spiteful about it on my worst days… It still occasionally feels like a gut-punch when yet another friend announces they’re pregnant (which seems to keep happening constantly…)

I’m sad that I’ll never experience being pregnant again. I’m sad that my family won’t look like an idealized version of something I’ve seen on t.v. (even though having more kids wouldn’t have guaranteed that anyway…)

I’m frustrated that it seems like everyone else got to choose exactly the life they wanted and didn’t have to suffer through infertility like my family did (I KNOW this is not a true statement – but it feels like it is sometimes – especially if I hang out on social media for too long…)

There are days when I’m so happy with our sweet little family of three – and I find myself feeling overwhelmingly grateful. And yet there are still days when I’m sobbing about the loss of this hypothetical child I’ll never get to meet.

All that to say, it’s a LOT of feelings. Some of my feelings seem like they are in direct conflict of one another, which is a bit confusing. I’m happy, yet sad… grateful, yet bitter… I’m trying to find space to hold and honor ALL my emotions at once. But it’s exhausting.

The first post I wrote about trying to get pregnant with a second child was back in 2019 – almost 5 years ago. I can’t believe I’ve been thinking about trying to conceive another child for that long. My son was only three years old at the time (*now he’s almost 8!)

At that point I hadn’t yet realized we were dealing with secondary infertility – that would be confirmed in early 2021.

We spent another year and a half vacillating between optimism and despair. It seemed like some treatments would potentially be promising, but then in January of 2023 our journey came to an abrupt end, and it was the beginning of really trying to process that we would probably never have another child.

2023 was a difficult year. I had been so afraid of starting the true process of grieving – I knew it would hurt a lot. And it did. I made the choice to start taking antidepressants again because I was struggling so much with everything.

I’ve done a lot of thinking and processing over the last year and a half through the feelings that have accompanied my infertility journey – and a few realizations recently came to the surface for me. Some of them are embarrassing realizations, but I don’t want to be ashamed of them – my feelings make me human, and it’s okay to admit my humanity. And Brené Brown says it’s good to be vulnerable and not live in shame (and she’s a smart lady!)

One major realization was that I found myself ready to start moving into a place of acceptance – I think I’m finally heading into that final stage of grief – which is wonderful, because it means healing has happened. It’s a very SLOW process, and I definitely have setbacks (aka. look up the term “grief burst”)… But I want to start focusing more on the positives of having an only child. I’ve heard a lot of the negatives, a LOT of the stigmas, but I hadn’t really researched the positives until recently.

Realizations About Myself, Secondary Infertility, and Having an Only Child

1. I was struggling with feelings of loneliness. The average number of children a family has differs depending on where you live in the world. Where I live in Texas, it’s much more common for families to have multiple kids, and I realized that I just truly didn’t know very many one-child families. Now if I lived in a place like New York or Seattle, according to Pew Research, my family of three would look more like the norm. Unfortunately, I have no plans to move to New York or Seattle, or other places where one-child families are becoming more and more common – so it can be pretty easy to feel like the odd one out.

“It can feel isolating if you’re the only one in your friend group who has an only child, especially if you are one and done, not by choice. You might feel left out when your friends discuss sibling relationships or baby/toddler stages (if your child is older). Feeling excluded by your friend group can be rough!”

excerpt from One & Done by Rebecca Greene (2023)


I wish I could say that I was more confident in being “different,” but I realized there is a huge part of me that just wants to fit in. It can be painful to not feel like anyone else shares your experience, or even desires it. And to be honest, I’m really tired of painful feelings.

2. My anxiety about being a “bad mom” was majorly triggered. When my son Calvin was about 3 or 4 years old, the “when are you going to have a baby brother or sister?” questions started. People would actually tell me that Calvin would be lonely as an only child. I began to feel like a bad mom because I couldn’t provide him with a sibling. I have a lot of insecurities and previous struggles regarding being a bad mother, so I’m pretty easily triggered when anyone insinuates that I’m not a good parent. Obviously, this is a personal thing that I need to work through (shout-out to my therapist!), and people’s uninformed comments and opinions do not have to make me feel lesser. But it’s hard to stand tall and proud when you are constantly being bombarded with ignorant comments from friends or family, or even random strangers!

3. I bought into a lot of the unfounded stigmas of only children without actually doing my research. When my husband and I first began talking about having children, having one wasn’t even an option because we didn’t want a “spoiled” child. I hate to admit that I bought into that stereotype so easily, but I did. Having siblings does not guarantee anything about how a child will turn out. I know some super down-to-earth only-child adults, and I know some pretty selfish adults who had siblings.

As far as the stereotype that onlies are lonely, that also does not have to be true. From the time Calvin was very young, he has been around many other kids at daycare, school, and church. I have tried to be more intentional lately to invite friends over to play at our house, and I think that has been a good thing for all of us. Calvin also has a more introverted personality, and honestly does not desire to be around tons of kids all the time. Each kid is different, and their relationship needs also differ.

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woman with her head (literally) in the clouds

My Word for 2023: CURIOSITY

Erica1 Comment

Normally at the beginning of a new year, I come up with a word – a focus for the year ahead. But when January 1 rolled around this year, I was drawing a blank.

I was in a bad place at the beginning of this year. Well, really since earlier than that. But everything sort of culminated in January. I had poured my heart and soul into trying to get pregnant in 2022. I felt like God or the universe (or someone) had given me signs that it was going to happen. And then it didn’t.

When 2023 started, I was so angry. I felt like I was angrier than I’ve ever been in my life. Angry at everyone, I hated everything.

I told my therapist that I was tired of hurting, I wanted to feel better now, but I didn’t know how to make that happen. And she told me that maybe I was doing exactly what my body and mind needed me to do: simply being in a horrible, bad place and just feeling my feelings.

It reminded me of the practice of mindfulness. I needed to be aware, without judgment, of my feelings and just sit with them for a while. If I repressed them or tried to pretend that they weren’t there, I wouldn’t be able to move past them or heal.

Feeling my feelings was not the answer I wanted to hear. I wanted a pill, a drug, a quick fix to my problems. I had felt so many feelings already and it was exhausting! How could I make them go away?

We left that therapy session and I (jokingly) told Dean, “what are we paying her so much for?” She hadn’t solved my problems, she hadn’t fixed my pain. But I found out about 3 weeks later that she was 100% right.

For 3 weeks, I burned with anger at God and the world. I resented hearing about any new pregnancy announcements. I was lethargic and unmotivated about most everything – with the exception that I decided to start training for a half marathon. That was my one goal, my one distraction that kept me grounded. And I had so much anger that running was a good way to get it out, or at least to fuel my runs.

For 3 weeks my body worked through a lot of the hurt. I grieved. I processed. I survived a faith crisis (that’s a whole other story). And then suddenly it started to not hurt as much. I hadn’t “done” anything in particular. I had started exercising (good), I had done a lot of journaling of my feelings (also good), and I had shared and cried with some of my closest friends about my sadness and grief – and because they are wonderful friends, they listened without judgment and offered me grace and compassion.

I’m not going to pretend like it doesn’t still hurt, it does. But the constant feeling like someone has kicked me in the chest has gone away. The clouds have lifted and I’m feeling more like myself, the Erica before joining the infertility club.

Honestly, I had kind of forgotten who I was before becoming so obsessed with trying to get pregnant. It had taken over me. It seemed like all the fun, spontaneous, and happy parts of me had gotten lost, and the only parts left of me were the ugly, angry, and bitter ones.

In that same therapy session where I told my therapist I was tired of hurting, I also told her that I wanted to get another tattoo. “Another tattoo?” she said. She hadn’t even noticed the one I had on my wrist. I then told her that I kind of wanted a sleeve, but that I wasn’t totally sure what I would get – maybe I’d let my tattoo artist help me decide.

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cat looking in through slightly open window

The Sneaky Side of Depression

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I think one of the most helpful things I’ve done in trying to maintain my mental health is to become aware of my own personal red flags.

There are certain things, when they start happening, that make me suddenly wonder if something is off. Suddenly I’ll realize, “oh, I’m not handling things well anymore.” 

For me, some of those red flags are:

  • Getting overly emotional at everything (more crying than usual)
  • Feeling tired and fatigued all the time (wanting to sleep as a coping mechanism)
  • The stopping of activities I normally enjoy (lack of motivation to do them)
  • Becoming extra critical and annoyed with others
  • Being extremely bothered by clutter (feeling obsessive about needing to have the house clean)

A few weeks ago I was at work reading one of my daily news emails that I subscribe to, and that day it was focused on the war in Ukraine. As I read about numerous innocent people dying, I suddenly felt so overwhelmed. I just wanted to start sobbing about the injustice of it all – literally, I was having trouble keeping it together. Now, I’m not saying that the war in Ukraine isn’t something worth crying about or getting emotional over. Obviously, it’s a very serious situation. But the reaction I was having was more extreme than was normal for me. That was hint #1 to me that maybe I was dealing with some extra anxiety, or even depression, settling in.

I thought over the previous weeks, and realized I had gotten out of some of my normal routines. I wasn’t writing or blogging anymore. I wasn’t taking time to pray or do other spiritually-focused activities. I certainly wasn’t taking time to exercise either. So what was I doing with all my time? I was sleeping a lot more, going to bed early and waking up late, despite setting my alarm for 5:30 each morning in the hopes that I would actually get up and write (which wasn’t happening). No matter how much I slept, I still felt tired. I was wasting a lot more time on Netflix and social media. It felt like I was busy all day, but I wasn’t really doing anything of substance.

And yes, I felt extra annoyed with people, especially the people I lived with. In my mind, the house was a disaster. Why did it feel like I was the only one in our family who pulled their own weight? How could everyone else stand to ignore the mess and clutter and go about their happy little lives? I had blown up a few times at my husband Dean, and had made it loud and clear that I was tired of being the “only one” who took care of things.

Basically, ALL of my red flags were showing. But this didn’t even occur to me until that day in my office when I was struggling to not have an emotional breakdown over the current news about Ukraine. 

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