My Story: "Having Another Child Should Be Easy, So Why Isn't It?"

Many women without children know all too well the watchful and impatient gaze of others on their biological clocks. For Andrea Moore, a married mother of one, all eyes are on her to have a second child. In her own words, she shares with BlackDoctor.org her story of secondary infertility and what truly defines her womanhood.

Womanhood and its demands have robbed me of my purpose. Or at least the supposed purpose bestowed on every person born female.

Not having children—whether by choice, circumstance, or physical inability—is somehow an outward manifestation of female failure. Being married with one child, a house and a fish is not enough. According to my critics, I’ve yet to fulfill the duties of womanhood.

Weekly I’m asked when will my family expand. As if I’ve lost track of my age and the fact that my daughter is “getting older, not younger,” I’m reminded nearly daily that I need to get crackin’.

My response to the slightly embarrassing but very annoying question is no longer, “I’m working on it.” It’s now morphed into a bit of an explanation that reveals that I’ve tried, I’m trying, and maybe it’s just not in the cards for me.

Failure alert.

The shame of feeling less like a woman after being unable to birth my first child vaginally, then being unable to properly nurse my daughter due to poor lactation was rudely awakened when I was unable to carry my second child full-term.

Infertility is widely acknowledged—though not quite accurately–as a diagnosis that seemingly affects first-time prospective parents. Rarely do people, other than medical professionals and those who have experienced secondary infertility, empathize with or give credence to the reality, emotional exhaustion and pain of failing to conceive another child.

The disappointment of not being able to conceive a child more than three years after having lost my second (unplanned) child was exacerbated by the fact that my husband and I hadn’t planned our first two pregnancies and therefore put little “work” into conceiving.

With our daughter turning 6 years old, I am constantly reminded that there is a void in our family, I am "not getting any younger," and somehow I’m to blame. Very innocently I’ve been warned that I’m not doing something right. If I want more children yet have no baby bump and glowing complexion as proof of my desires then I either don’t want another child or I am simply “doing it” wrong. Whatever the case, all fingers point to me.

Month-to-month my emotional health has faltered with the attestation that conception escaped us…again. The pressure to live up to the romantic idea that womanhood strictly adheres to birthing children naturally and during the desired timeframe is one that I cannot live up to.

I’m learning to accept that maybe I’m only meant to give birth to one incredible child.

However, I will never accept or subscribe to the idea that the number of children a woman has given birth to is inextricably linked to her womanhood.

My womanhood is not defined by my struggles but by my ability to be transparent about my struggles, share my triumphs, ignore the boundaries and reshape opportunities.

“It’s the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.”

~Dr. Maya Angelou

*Originally published at www.be-quoted.com.

Andrea S. Moore is a native San Franciscan, public health social worker and freelance writer whose work can be seen on Huffington Post, The Guardian, JETmag.com and Clutch Magazine to name a few. Follow her on her blog at www.be-quoted.com and on Twitter @bequotedbyasm.