Happy Infertility Awareness Week!

So this past week was Infertility Awareness Week. As a bona fide infertile, I feel it is my civic duty to spread the news.

According to the American Society for Reproductive Medicine, about 10% of couples are infertile (that is, unable to conceive after a year of trying). Which means that if you know 10 couples, chances are that you know someone who is infertile. Which means you should stop asking people when they plan to have kids. Eighty percent of infertile couples will be able to identify a cause and of those identified, about half are due to male factor. Which means you should stop discussing in hushed tones with your family members what might be wrong with your brother's wife.

None of that even begins to speak of the emotional toll infertility takes. I have encountered a range in my fertile friends' level of understanding: from "I cannot imagine how hard this must be and I am so sorry" to "why are you even trying so hard anyway?" I could write for days... literally... on the psychology of infertility. But, I won't. If you are fertile (or assume that you are) and you think that I am taking this little issue way too far (it's not cancer, for heaven's sakes), all I can tell you is that I am not alone. Every single infertile person I know (and yes, through the miracle of the internet I know many) experiences deep sadness, intense longing, a very real sense of loss, embarrassment, isolation, frustration, fear, disappointment, and worry. I will delve more into this in later posts because I think it's important. Too many people have zero understanding of how very, very hard it is. And the unfortunate part of that is that they then say things that are astoundingly insensitive and only make the hurt worse. Which I know is never the intention. So to end this post, I am compiling a list of phrases that are never to leave your lips when speaking to someone longing for a child.

1. Why don't you just adopt?
Ah, the perpetual query. Oh, how simple the decision, right? People who say that never, and I mean never, have the slightest inkling what adoption involves. And they never, and I mean never, are adoptive parents themselves. Adoption is expensive. It is very time consuming. And it is not as rose-colored as the general population believes. Again, I could write a whole post on this alone (and perhaps will), but not now. Finally, the next time you and your friends are all sharing birth stories, consider that the adoptive parent is robbed of the experience of being pregnant, feeling the kicks, giving birth, exclusively nursing the baby if she chooses. If you hate pregnancy, just be grateful you know enough about being pregnant to hate it.

2. Just relax and it'll happen. (Alternatively, "Just go on vacation.")
This one is sure to raise any infertile's blood pressure by 20 points. If that were true, everyone would get pregnant that first fun month of trying. Relaxing can't fix two-headed sperm, polycystic ovaries or endometriosis. And trust me, we are worried enough that we are in some way causing this failure. The last thing we need is to be lying in the sack wondering if maybe this could be the time... oh, crap... I thought about it... I wonder if that's too uptight... did I just screw it up?... well, now I'm definitely not relaxed...

3. Maybe it's just not in God's plan for you to have children. (Alternatively, "Maybe it's just not meant to be." or "Everything happens for a reason.")
A. Do you have a direct line to God? Because if so, I have some questions for Him? B. It's not in His plan for me, and educated loving person with plenty of resources for raising a happy, healthy child to have kids, but it was in his plan for that woman who was on the news last night because she killed her five children to have them? Do you really think God works that way? C. How is it remotely helpful to my faith to be told that God is withholding such a basic, deep-seated desire from me?

4. You want kids so bad? You can have mine!
First of all, you are making light of something deeply painful to someone. How would you feel if after your mother died, I offered you mine whenever you wanted to borrow her? I don't want your kids. I want my kids. Second of all, do you really not want your children? Really? Watching them grow, hearing their "I love yous," having a front row seat to their accomplishments doesn't bring you joy? Because if that's all true, perhaps you should consider adoption...

5. Have you tried ____________? (pillow under your bum, various positions, etc.)
Believe me. We have tried EVERYTHING. Do you really think that we have left any stone unturned? And now, please, for the love of pete, never ever tell me how to have sex again.

6. I know just how you feel. I tried for six months with my third.
No, you haven't the foggiest how it feels to stare at a negative pregnancy test every month for three years. You have no idea how it feels to have the most intimate part of your marriage invaded by medical personnel. You have no idea how it feels to inject your body full of hormones. You have no idea.

7. There was probably something wrong with the baby anyway.
While it may very well be true, that doesn't mean that the baby wasn't wanted. His or her family was excited, dreaming of tiny fingers and toes, feeling kicks, decorating the nursery. And now those dreams are gone and the would-be-parents are scared it will happen again. Future pregnancies will be marred with fear. They are mourning the loss of their dream.

8. At least you have one.
This is my new personal least favorite and one I probably would have actually said a couple of years ago. The problem is that we wanted three... or four. And sure, at least we have the one (though there is no least about him), but now we also know how great it is. Please, especially don't say this if you have more than one or only want one yourself. Because you really don't understand.

9. This is the last one, I promise. Don't leave your infertile friends in the dark when you get pregnant. Is the news going to hurt them? Yes and no. Yes, they will wonder why they can't experience pregnancy too. And no, they are genuinely happy for you and don't want you to experience pain. Not telling them only isolates them more and you can hardly hide it forever. And just because you should announce your pregnancy to them does NOT... I repeat NOT... mean you should complain to them about your discomforts. You certainly have a right to complain, but for heaven's sakes, not to the very person who would give a left leg to experience those discomforts. Let them take the lead in discussing your pregnancy. You have lots of other friends and family to talk about your joy and discomforts with. Don't torture the one who wants what you have more than anything.

So Happy Infertility Awareness Week, all. May you all have the families you desire.