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.
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