Infertility is a topic that most tend to keep private. Some feel deep shame about their inability to conceive naturally. Others are desperate to talk about their woes, but no one around them wants to hear it. There are those who find it so overwhelming, that they believe if they don’t acknowledge it, then it will cease to be real. Add into this the social norms that propagate the notion that fertility isn’t something you talk about, regardless of the situation. I feel very strongly that this damaging us.
My infertility diagnosis made me feel all of the above and then some. The dominant feeling I felt was confusion. It can be difficult to comprehend the medical jargon at times. When I thought I did, later I found myself questioning things and unsure who I could turn to for answers. There was a gaping hole of emptiness and isolation. I didn’t feel like I could ask questions or express how I truly felt about it all.
Upon reflection, I realise that I had people in my life who had guided me to this point. A handful of people had unsolicitedly opened up to me about their story. First was my Aunt; followed by my sister in law, and my very own sister, Jessica. The three of them gave me guidance towards my diagnosis. They gave me love, compassion, and an openness that I believe everyone is entitled to.
It is because of these three that I found the motivation to share my own story. At the time, I did not realise what they were doing for me. I don’t think they all did either. We just had conversations, seemingly normal conversations. What they didn’t know is the level of comfort they gave me. They also inspired me to open up. To provide someone else with the comfort they gave me.
My Aunt.
Every three years, my mother’s family gather from near and far to celebrate Christmas together. In 2015, we met at Jessica’s house. I wasn’t married yet, and talk on babies in the family was a buzz. Who would have a baby first? Who would marry first? It was a lot of pressure.
Frankly, the conversation made me shitty. Rob was dragging his feet in the engagement department. It was also crystal clear that babies weren’t coming on the scene until after marriage. So this conversation made me pissy.
My Aunt was sitting next to me and we were deep in a conversation about how many extras there would be in 2018 when we met again for Christmas. Most of the details around this conversation are fuzzy, but I clearly recall telling my Aunt that I was off the pill. Rob and I were not trying, but I didn’t want to pump my body full of nasty chemicals.
I think I mentioned to my Aunt that I was concerned because my cycle wasn’t regular yet. Mostly my cycle was 28 days, on occasion there would be a 35-day cycle. At the time, I wasn’t tracking my cycle all that closely. I roughly knew when a month had passed without a period.
My Aunt surprised me and opened up to me about her cycle. She said hers was 21 days long. That was her normal. It had taken a while for her to find that out, and she’d been dismissed by doctors when she brought it up. From that day on, I made an effort to track my cycle to find out what normal was for me. She said that knowing my normal would help me when the time came and I began to try for my much-coveted child.
This conversation was a turning point for me. It gave me an appreciation for open communication between women about their bodily functions. Believe it or not, most of us at some point in time have wondered if what we experience is ‘normal’. I’ve always loved my Aunt, but my love for her grew that day. I felt like her equal. That was just what I needed.
Up until that Christmas, I had seldom felt comfortable talking about something so personal with anyone. That innocent conversation with my Aunt was the catalyst for conversations to come. On occasion, my sister in law had spilled her guts to me about her fertility journey.
My Sister In Law.
Her story is not mine to share, but I will say that she now has three beautiful children all from IVF. She did the hard yards, her battle was long. Whenever we’ve shared time together just the two of us, she’s been very open with me about her journey. In a casual, blase fashion. Despite that, I have always had the impression that she doesn’t talk like that with everyone.
I know she didn’t often talk about it until she was done having children. Pregnancy was such a taboo topic in my in-laws household. No one felt truly at ease talking about any pregnancy my sister in law had unless she initiated the conversation. When she was pregnant with her last baby, it was her oldest that told Rob and I.
Miss A had come for a sleepover. We were in the car driving somewhere and from the back seat, a little voice chirps: “There is a baby in Mummy’s tummy”. Rob and I exchanged nervous a glance, and we asked Miss A if she was allowed to tell us this. She said she was, but Miss A has loose lips so we didn’t engage the conversation further. At a family dinner later on, My sister in law made comment about eating for two. Our jaws dropped! Miss A had been given permission to tell us. Of course, many congratulations followed.
My sister in law has always been very transparent with me about her history, especially as I was diagnosed. She was the first person we told about our situation. We were on the phone to her from the pharmacy after that fateful doctor’s appointment in 2017. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve cried to her. She is my go-to for all things assisted conception. I check with her if I’m uncertain about something more than I will with my FS.
Having someone who I can talk to openly about all of this has been essential to my mental health. When I shut myself away, and keep things private, that is when my heart aches the most. It is in those times that my mind goes into overdrive. I feel isolated and contained by my abnormality. This is when my depression feeds.
My Sister – Jessica.
I always admired Jessica, and her ability to be so candid and open about her journey with infertility. Yes, I am her sister and probably received the more candid interviews. Regardless, she was always very transparent about what she was going through. No question was too much to ask, and it was her who got me to seek help for my situation.
Jessica made the suggestion that I look into ovulation tracking with a fertility clinic. Neither of us knew what was going to unfold from there. But if she hadn’t made that suggestion, I would have continued trying naturally, assuming everything was fine. I would have waited longer before asking for help, but she encouraged me to seek it.
These three women are the inspiration behind why I am so passionate about sharing my journey. My Aunt got the ball rolling, and my sister in law and Jessica spurred me on. Having these women in my life who provide me with a safe space takes away the stigma I felt for so long.
There is so much stigma around infertility, mental health, and many other conditions that people are just not comfortable talking about. I felt the magnitude of that greatly. There was an urge to hide my true self, the pain and sorrow I was feeling. A sense privacy was imposed on me when all I wanted was someone to talk to. For people to tell me that what I was feeling, what I was going through was perfectly normal and okay. That is my why.
I share what I do so no one else never has to experience infertility the way I did. Everyone should feel comfortable to talk about something that is so natural and such a big part of life. Because I share, I’ve brought awareness to others around me.
Recent Comments