Infertility is the inability to conceive a baby. That’s such a short sentence with such a heavy impact.
My least favorite question these days is “So when are you guys having a baby” It literally makes me groan inside. Most people are well meaning in their inquiry, and have no clue the struggles we have had, or the panic that sets in as I try to respond.
I normally shrug and say “Were working on it”, and quickly add “but were trying to adopt too” as if I need to prove that I’m motivated to care for a child. Some days I just want to say “Were struggling with Infertility”, but I am aware of the indiscernible line of awkwardness that comes with admitting that.
Infertility has become a more common topic in our world. When I talk with women of older generations I feel the shame that as a society we have imposed. When I talk with women closer to my own age there is an opposite response, one of empowerment and hope.
I have been pondering infertility and the role that it has played in the lives around me, and in my own life. Infertility impacts my husband, our parents, our families, our friends. We celebrate baby showers and birthdays of the children in our world. We are truly grateful for every life and are thankful to be included. But if I’m being honest, events like those can be hard. Some days I don’t want to keep a smile, some days I want to sit in a puddle and cry.
I am so appreciative of our friends and friend who are sensitive to this issue in our lives, and that they don’t push us for understanding, but support us when we are will to share. I don’t believe infertility should be a secret, I just don’t know how to talk about it.