Preconceive

09.11.2017
~6min read

If you’re anything like myself you feel like getting sucked into thinking about life’s purpose is an awful but persistent occurrence. Beginning with a giant mess of comparison that generates superficial assumptions as to why you aren’t better at things.

Growing up my older sister was popular, had great hair and a good sense of style. Then there was my younger brother, the firstborn son and a natural athlete. Followed by my youngest brother, a whiz kid, growing up in the time of increasingly available technology. What about me? The “middle” child, the mother hen, as grandma would say. Always watching after the others and telling them what to do, with an obvious maternal complex.

All these years later, now twenty-five, happily married to an incredibly kind-hearted man after four years of dating and just shy of two years of marriage, continuing to gravitate towards opportunities that provoke my nurturing tendencies and yet no children of my own.

It’s strange going from the concept of absolutely don’t get pregnant to the notion of ok, we waited, we planned (like everyone said). Now was as good of a time as any and then nothing happens. Nada. Zip, zilch. Absolutely, NOTHING.

Although, that didn’t stop me from thinking with every possible chance that we were in fact pregnant. Next thing you know months go by and then the months turn into a whole year. All without a sign that anything was changing, except our patience and growing concern. Just like many others, I had assumed this wouldn’t happen to us.

Looking back wanting to be a mom, at the right time for me, naturally became a part of who I was. Every major life decision I found myself considering my future children. Knowing that one day there’d have to be answers to their questions and I wanted to paint a picture of who it was possible to be. Someone I was proud of and thought they might be too. You may find those statements completely unrelatable and that is understandable, but something tells me that I’m not the only one.

So, what gives? There’s plenty of people getting pregnant, they’re plastered all across my news feed. What did we do wrong? Why do we deserve this? Aren’t we meant to have children? Suddenly, everything comes into question and it’s gnawingly painful. Why would you have this deep, instinctively gripping desire to raise a family? To be unquestionably ready to give yourself over so selflessly and lovingly to the most magical thing that this life has to offer, but it’s still just “not the right time for you”. It will happen when it’s supposed to happen. Right? If only there was money in it for us every time we heard that.

Let me just stop for a second and explain to you that if love was the only thing it took to make a beautiful healthy baby, we’d have a herd of children by now. Infertility brings awful feelings of unworthiness, inadequacy, confusion, and overwhelming waves of sadness. Crippled by the persistent response of being hopelessly optimistic, every. single. month.

Now if you’re reading this and find any part feels familiar to your own experience, please know there are many here who understand and empathize with what you’ve been through. You are not alone and I’ll be darned if you leave this post still thinking you are (insert hugs).

This next part sounds a bit cliché, but I’m going to say it– this is part of our journey in answering the call to parenthood. It isn’t the fun part or the best part, just for now, it’s a part. Know that this doesn’t change anything. You are a parent, one who makes tough decisions for the babe that isn’t here yet. Despite what some people think we don’t want to have kids for the sake of having kids. We want kids because we understand being a parent is part of our purpose. Talk when you need to talk and cry when you need to cry, but don’t let this shut you down completely.

Going through this is all-consuming and often times it feels like a social requirement to stay “strong”. Yet, it’s an unrealistic expectation that women and men experiencing this should never shed a tear or should constantly compartmentalize how they’re feeling. That’s not sustainable and we need to continue the work in transforming what encompasses strength.

So, I’ll be over here shouting from the rooftop for those that need to hear it, you have permission! Go ahead and have a good ugly cry. Sit in your ridiculously unattractive, yet faithfully comfortable sweatpants that you refuse to get rid of (no matter how many times your partner asks), eating out of a pint or even a gallon of premium ice cream. Have a drink or two, while binge watching some mind-numbing television. Allow yourself a moment to stop pretending you’re “fine” with this, so these feelings can stop spilling out all over the place when you don’t want them to. Just for now you don’t have to entertain anyone with the pleasantries of pep. Then, when you’re ready, brush yourself off and get some good sleep.

If you weren’t able to relate firsthand to any of that thank you for continuing to read on. I hope you never find yourself afflicted by this. The sad reality is that even if not directly yourself or your spouse there will likely be a friend, relative, coworker, next-door neighbor, or even stylist who does your hair that is.

Infertility doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care who you are, if or how long you’ve wanted sweet babies, how great of parents you’d be, how long or how well you did or didn’t prepare, and not even how much you’re meant to do the thing called parenthood.

In fact, experts suggest that 12% to 15% of couples (also commonly translated to 1 in 8) struggle with infertility after a year of frequent, unprotected sex; while after 2 years of trying to conceive 10% are still not able to succeed in bringing home a living baby.^1,2,3 When 40% to 60% of couples, who are younger than 30 and generally healthy, can conceive within the first 3 months of trying.⁴ Let that sink in. If there are close to eight billion people in the world, that’s upwards of one billion two hundred million people out there who will be enduring this pain for years.

Taking a moment here to point out, telling those who are experiencing this to “relax” is enormously unhelpful. It’s not going to somehow magically fix our medical problem and although it may be unintentional, those statements feel compassionless to individuals with infertility insecurities. The experience of infertility is relentless, heartbreaking, and even traumatic for a wannabe parent.

One frequently cited study revealed that patients with infertility had depression levels comparable to patients diagnosed with cancer.⁵ Another study found that following a miscarriage, 4 in 10 women experienced symptoms of PTSD.⁶ Saying this is to offer perspective towards the psychological impact of infertility, not to dive into a comparison contest.

Needless to say, if you find yourself connected to someone struggling with infertility, show compassion and listen without the bias. Resist the urge to identify, rationalize, or somehow solve this problem for them. Pause before sharing what might be an impulse response. Instead, consciously sympathize with their distress and have an authentic desire to alleviate it.⁷ If you’re that someone struggling with infertility, give yourself some grace. Ignore any expectations you feel towards always having to appear upbeat. This is hard, and you’re allowed to unapologetically acknowledge the deep emotional distress this has or had been causing you. From one parentfriend to another, you are not broken; you are worthy.

Go in peace, go in grace, go in kindness.

References

1. American Urological Association Male Infertility Best Practice Policy Panel. (2010). The Optimal Evaluation of the Infertile Male: AUA Best Practice Statement. Retrieved December 10, 2019, from https://www.auanet.org/documents/education/clinical-guidance/Male-Infertility-d.pdf  (PDF – 188 KB)
2. American Society for Reproductive Medicine. (2012). Optimizing Natural Fertility. Retrieved December 10, 2019, from https://www.reproductivefacts.org/news-and-publications/patient-fact-sheets-and-booklets/documents/fact-sheets-and-info-booklets/optimizing-natural-fertility/
3. Gnoth, G., Godehardt, D., Godehardt, E., Frank-Herrmann, P., & Freundl, G. (2003). Time to Pregnancy: Results of the German Prospective Study and Impact on the Management of Infertility. Human Reproduction, 18(9), 1959–1966.
4. Dunson, D. B., Baird, D. D., & Colombo, B. (2004). Increased Infertility with Age in Men and Women. Obstetrics & Gynecology, 103(1), 51–56.
5. Domar, A.D., Zuttermeister, P.C., & Friedman, R. (1993). The Psychological Impact of Infertility: A Comparison with Patients with Other Medical Conditions. J Psychosom Obstet Gynaecol., (14), 45–52.
6. Farren, J., Jalmbrant, M., Ameye, L., Joash, K., Mitchell-Jones, N., Tapp, S., Timmerman, D., & Bourne, T. (2016). Post-traumatic Stress, Anxiety and Depression Following Miscarriage or Ectopic Pregnancy: A Prospective Cohort Study. BMJ Open, (6)11, 1–9.
7. Compassion. In The Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary. Retrieved December 10, 2019, from https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/compassion