I've been mulling over posting about this for the past few days. I've given snippets, glimpses and snapshots of some of our infertility issues but, frankly, I've always kept it pretty darn discreet. It's hard to constantly put yourself out there to others and explain the situation for the 500 millionth time when all you want to do is run away to just curl up in a ball and cry and not talk about it.
If you have a moment please look up the word "infertility." I won't go on a tangent to describe how much I hate how a person/ couple could ever be labeled something that seems so final. (But know that I do) Some doctors give this label to couples who have tried for over a year to conceive with no luck. Some couples will be fortunate to shed that label... others won't. For those who are at the child-bearing age, over 7 million of those couples will experience some form of infertility: female, male, combined or unexplained.
In our situation the problem was me. We started trying within the first year we were married but got serious about it once D had a big boy job. After months of negative pregnancy tests, our first anniversary, an out-of-state move, a new OB, months and months and months of fertility drugs, getting D tested, and then a final month of different fertility drug it was suggested that I have a surgical procedure to explore any physical problems not showing up on ultrasounds. I was nervous, as it was my first time ever having surgery, but I was optimistic: "This is something they just HAVE to do to rule out x, y, and z... everything is really fine," is what I kept telling myself.
Wrong.
Really, really wrong.
That night I learned that I had Endometriosis. And not just a little bit, either. A lot... enough to throw me into the highest category- stage 4. The worst part(s)? There are three:
#1. I was told that I'd never have children naturally. IVF would be our only option.
And #2: I didn't hear this from my doctor or nurse. I had to hear this from my own husband. I sat there and watched my absolute best friend tell me the absolute worst thing I could ever hear.
And, finally, #3: I'll die with Endometriosis. I can never, ever, ever get rid of it because it's a progressive disease. Unfortunately I'm one that has the disease but doesn't show a lot tell-tale symptoms of it. The diagnosis was shocking as much as it felt like my own body was secretly betraying me.
The next year was the hardest. More doctors, more treatments, more procedures, more medications and the worst part... waiting. Just waiting.
Laura Bush, who has dealt with infertility herself, has said: "The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful and some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only "I'm sorry for your loss." But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?"
What I've revealed about my own personal journey with infertility above is where I'm going to stop. Most of it is still too painful and fresh to go there. The rest begins to fade into Birdie-girl's story... which is only hers to tell. But I want you to consider one thing: watch your words.
Watch.
Your.
Words. .... to anyone (anyone) that's of child-bearing age.
Resist the urge to ask others when they're planning on having children. (Or when they're planning on having more.) Just. Don't. Ask... no matter how good your intentions are or how nicely/ politely you word your question. It's not your business... EVER. For those who have never walked in our shoes you have no idea how hurtful and invasive that question is.
However, if you do know someone who is trying to expand their family and having some setbacks please consider, carefully, the following:
1. Don't tell them to relax. If all it took to get pregnant was to relax I'd have more children than the Octomom. I really feel like I should receive a medal for not punching people in the face whenever they told me, "Oh you just need to relax." Seriously. Not only does saying that dismiss a person's feelings and the situation but it actually causes more stress and anxiety... especially in women.
2. Don't minimize the problem. Don't tell a childless couple that you envy how they get to sleep in, be more spontaneous or have more time to themselves. It's not comforting. I know many a couple or woman who would sacrifice every luxury in their life for just a SHOT at becoming a parent.
3. Don't say there are worse things that could happen. Every person has at least one thing or situation that would be the absolute worst for them to deal with. For as many as 7 million couples infertility is one of them. What's the worst for one person may not be for another.
4. Don't say they aren't meant to be parents. To me this is just plain cruel, especially if a person/ couple shares their infertility issues openly. In my opinion this phrase is the word equivalent of being punched in the face. Infertility is not a punishment.
5. Don't ask why (or if or push for) they are/aren't trying IVF or adoption. There are couples that are open to both options to building a family, some that favor one over the other and others that don't have enough information to consider either. Don't taint their perception or thoughts about one alternative route over the other. Much like the act of conceiving a child naturally, both IVF and adoption are equally personal ways to create, or grow, a family. Also like conceiving naturally- adoption and IVF carry their own unique set of risks, highs and lows.
6. Don't be crude or gossip. It should go without saying but don't joke about infertility. It's rude and inappropriate to tease someone in a very vulnerable position.
7. Don't complain about your pregnancy. This was one that I hated the most. When you're dealing with your own personal infertility issues just being around those who are expecting or have kids is hard enough. Infertile's are trying their best to figure out how to function around these types of people in general. While we understand that pregnancy has discomforts and raising children is tough you should still never, ever vent your feelings to a person with infertility and expect them to comfort you. Again, I know many a person who'd give up every single thing to have a SHOT at a gaining a pregnancy stretch mark, or pull an all-nighter with a sick kiddo.
8. Let them know you care. While we only revealed to close friends and family what we were dealing with I so appreciated every text and phone call on days when I just had a simple blood test or shot. A simple "good luck today" or "thinking of you guys" or "you got this" goes a looooong way. (And to all those who did that I cannot thank you enough!) Or send a small gift to let them know you care: my cousin once sent me a beautiful card and meditation cd to let me know she was supportive. Did it cure everything? No. Not even close. But, I love her to death for the gesture and I enjoyed using what she sent.
9. Remember them on Mother's and Father's day. For me this was the worst day of the year. It was always the longest, hardest day to get through. Let them know they're not forgotten or ignored.
10. Support their decisions. Plain and simple. If you can't support them then don't say anything or politely excuse yourself from the conversation. The last thing infertile couples want to deal with is how to make everyone happy. Their happiness comes first over anyone else's.
D and I both know how extremely lucky we are to be able to drop the "infertility" label. How our little Birdie-girl finally made her way to us is equally a miracle as it is comical. Every day that I struggled with infertility I always tried to figure out why we had to go through this. To this day I still don't know. Was there a reason? Was it just a challenge that life hands you? Did we need to gain something? Who knows.
I do know that I will always silently cry for those who are struggling with infertility. I do know that I appreciate every kick I feel, every back ache, and every stretch mark. I do know the strength of my marriage to D. And... I do know how deep my love for our little girl goes.
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