Supporting One in Six in Infertility

It’s less gratifying than you think to have a doctor say, “well, something’s wrong, but we have no idea why.” Especially in the world of infertility, where one in six people (not just women) have issues creating a family, hearing “we have no idea why, everything should be working” is less along the lines of helpful, and more along the lines of extremely frustrating.

Before we decided to pursue IVF in 2016, I had heard of maybe one other couple that needed help growing their family. Infertility wasn’t talked about in normal conversation, and most of the couples I’d heard of that had done IVF were famous couples who could throw thousands of dollars at something described as “unexplained.”

“Normal” couples who couldn’t grow their families without science were left to silently suffer, with neighbors whispering about “that couple” that “decided” not to have children.

Even after we started the process of treatments - and it was a real process - I’d get asked by strangers and acquaintances just when we would have a baby. I fired my hair stylist after sitting in her chair for 30 minutes listening to her lecture me about how I was getting older and that my womb would dry up if I didn’t act soon.

She didn’t know that I was giving myself daily shots in the stomach, that I was counting days and peeing on sticks and doing mental, emotional, and physical gymnastics to try to convince my body that it wanted to be pregnant. She didn’t know that I’d already lost one pregnancy. She didn’t know that the clock in my head had already alarmed twice and my body had hit the snooze.

As soon as I opened up about IVF to my social circles, though, I started hearing from others who were experiencing the same thing. I compared doctors with friends, cried over failed cycles with colleagues, got messages of encouragement from those who had gone before me. I found a podcast that was invaluable during the darkest days of that struggle, and cheered and cried with them as they went through it on the opposite side of the country.

IVF worked for us, eventually, but it doesn’t work for everyone. I have cried with those friends as hard as I’ve cheered for the positive outcomes. Being now five years removed from my last procedure, the emotions and struggles have faded with time and I’m left only with the results of those trials: walking, talking little humans who I am more than grateful for, and would walk through lava or get stabbed with a million more progesterone needles for.

If you’re in the middle of IVF or infertility, this time of year is exceptionally difficult. I remember the bitterness surrounding Mother’s Day (why is National Infertility Awareness Week two weeks before Mother’s Day?) and how much it hurt to scroll socials on Mother’s Day weekend. This is your (unnecessary) permission to skip that this year. Here’s an unrelated book I loved, to dive into on May 11 and 12 instead of scrolling socials.

If that’s you this year, I see you, and I’m here if you want to talk about it.

If you’re on the supporting end of someone who is currently struggling, you can help them by listening; by respecting them and not getting offended if they don’t want to discuss it; by avoiding complaining about your own kids in front of them; and by being the same excellent friend you’ve always been. Most people going through IVF or any other medical process don’t want to be pitied or avoided because of what they’re going through. Open conversation, offering to listen (a simple “how are you today” is a place to start) and supporting the person going through it by accepting their emotions and not making light of something that has gone wrong, goes a long way.

Things you don’t need to say to someone going through infertility: “your time will come.” “You just need to relax / be optimistic / try this herbal supplement / stop trying so hard.” They don’t need advice. They need supportive shoulders and listening ears from people they trust.

If you’re not sure if a childless friend of yours is going through infertility, it could be that they’ve decided not to share that part of their life with you, for whatever reason. Respect that. Definitely don’t lecture them about their time running out to be a parent. And please don’t mail them a card out of the blue telling them you’re thinking about their childlessness and how badly you feel for them.

If you need more tips on how to help support people going through IVF, you can check out the Resolve website, where they have lots of ways to get involved and help make change where it really matters.