Infertility.
It's a word that brings about a myriad of negative emotions.
It's a label that sticks with you your entire life... even if you've sought treatment and now have children.
It's also something that brings men and women together. Have you ever been at an event and met someone whose name tag matches yours? You might smile and give a, "Hey!" as you point back and forth between the two of you. Two complete strangers suddenly connected all because of a name tag. It's kind of the same with infertility. You feel a sense of camaraderie when you meet someone whose "name tag" reads the same as yours. You probably won't go right up to them to shake their hand, and the smile you give each other isn't quite as bright... but there's almost a deeper level of connection, regardless. Kind of an unspoken, "I see you, and I know what you're going through. No one else really gets it, but I do."
Miscarriages, financial and emotional strain, and the reason behind your infertility aren’t exactly topics for the average dinner date with family and friends, but they’re topics that can be easily discussed with complete strangers. That fact isn’t meant to slight our loved ones at all. They’re the ones whose shoulders we can cry on. They’re the ones who hug on us and bring us hot meals during our time of grief. But unless they’ve been through what we’re going through, they’re not always the ones we really open up to.
I can’t speak for everyone that shares my “name tag”, but for us, more often than not a conversation about infertility with friends and family who have not experienced it follows this basic outline:
FRIEND: “How are you?”
US: "We're okay"... but not really, so I'm going to just cry for a bit and either:
a. Say nothing and let you give me hugs and pats on the back
b. Bare my soul and let you give me hugs and pats on the back
FRIEND: Things are getting a little awkward, and I'm not exactly sure what to say... so... sympathetic smile and, "Well, God has a plan / I know God will bless you with children some day / Everything happens for a reason."
US: Sniffle. "Thanks." But that's honestly not what I wanted to hear.
Again, I’m not at all trying to scorn friends and family. I’m just sharing my heart here. We need to be loved on, and they are the only ones who can do that. But don’t feel obligated to try and say something that might make us feel better, or make us feel like you understand if you don’t. My favorite interactions with loved ones were the ones where I got a big long bear hug and complete honesty from the one hugging me: “I don’t know what to say, so I’m just going to hug you and tell you I’m praying for you.” Perfection. Absolute perfection.
When I meet someone with my “name tag”, we’ll probably share a detailed conversation about each other’s battles with infertility. We’ll tell each other, “I know exactly what you mean.” We have that instant connection. We may even give each other a quick hug at the end of the conversation. Then we’ll go our separate ways with a huge load lifted from our chests because we’ve been able to talk to someone who actually understands.
We need both types of people in our lives.
And, I think that’s why we’ve become so open with talking about our journey. It’s not something that I blog about regularly, but when the topic comes up, we don’t shy away from sharing the details. I want to be “that person” for someone who is going through a similar situation because I know how cathartic it can be to just talk about everything.
I know the devastation of having that “name tag” placed on you.
“Your fallopian tubes are so scarred up from the endometriosis that you’ll never be able to have children naturally.”
I know the feeling of holding back tears when someone begins to question your lack of children.
“You’ve been married six years? When are you going to have children?”
I know the surge of frustration that bubbles up when someone makes a comment about children without thinking.
“You’re still young, you can have a baby for us!”
I know the feeling of shock and disbelief when someone is a little too presumptuous.
“Soooo any news this month??”
Those are all remarks that have been said to us over the years. I’ve held back emotions and I’ve held back hurtful, derisive comments. I’ve questioned God’s purpose and wondered why His plan had to hurt so much. I’ve cried until there were no more tears and then just stared at the blank walls in silence. Again, those are not exactly feelings to be shared at the dinner table, but they are feelings that are begging to be talked about with someone who actually understands.
Infertility is a difficult journey that hopefully more and more people will become aware of. To me, it's not something to be embarrassed by, but rather it's a way to educate people and share with them how God has been the one to get us through.
Some of you might remember a blog post I wrote a couple of years ago on this topic. I shared about our struggle through infertility and how we witnessed God being... well, God, through it all. You can read (or re-read) it HERE if you'd like. But, it was in that post that we shared the result of "nearly six years of prayers" -- our Sweet E.
I mentioned it in my other blog, and I'll mention it again here. I can't imagine going through infertility without God by my side. For six years we prayed and prayed until we were nearly prayed out. We were absolutely dependent on God and he absolutely grew us. But, even with all of our praying, He didn't save the two little ones we lost in 2011 and 2012. He didn't save the third one we lost in 2015. He didn’t save the fourth and fifth one we just lost a little over a week ago. He was not obligated to do that. Even still, we were so desperate to have our prayers answered that we were shouting out every little detail to every person who would pray. And you know what? It brought us so much closer to God and to other believers. We didn't (and don't) do "unspoken prayer requests". We wanted people to be praying specifically... not wondering unnecessarily what we needed prayer for. That’s another reason we’re so open about this.
If you’re one of our subscribers to our monthly newsletters you’ll know that we’re getting ready to do our very last embryo transfer. I’m probably as nervous as a person can be. We were still mourning the loss of our other two when the doctor told us that conditions were pretty much perfect for another transfer. Sorrow mixed with joy. The day that he told us was the day that we were planning on getting on a plane for Zambia. In fact, our plane was to leave in 4 hours. Talk about stress… trying to change our tickets, confirm that we still had a place to stay at the guest house, cancel our airport drop off and pick up, and double checking our bank account to make sure we had enough funds. Whew. And then remembering that my blood test came back positive for antinuclear antibodies (auto-antibodies) and wondering if that played a part in the rejection of the embryos, and if it’ll play a part in whether or not this next one will take. Our emotions have been on one heck of a roller coaster ride.
So, pray for us as we try one final time. And pray for others who are battling infertility. Others may not be as open about their journey, but very likely they’re going through similar emotions. And if you wear that name tag… show it off. Let it be a beacon to others like you who may be hurting.
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-4