We live in a competitive world. We live in a world where comparisons are constantly being drawn. We live in a world where people love to pretend otherwise, but often view things as right or wrong. Shades of grey are generally ignored. Judgments are made with little to no information. Opinions are stated whether or not they are wanted.
I suppose it was simply a matter of time.
There is a new trend in the fight against infertility, and it is only making matters worse.
Women are at war with one another. Women are comparing their journeys and attacking those who they deem to be “less infertile”. Instead of joining hands and fighting infertility together, women are now fighting each other.
7.3 million Americans are currently waging war against infertility. To bring it a little closer to home, if you and your partner are out to dinner with 7 other couples, one of those couples is currently experiencing infertility. That’s a lot of couples.
Despite increasing numbers, infertility remains a taboo subject. It can stop a conversation in a heartbeat and empty a room in record time. It can end marriages, friendships, and family relationships. It can cause some serious emotional damage.
The potential for emotional wreckage and lost relationships often causes couples to suffer in silence.
Infertility can cause anxiety and depression. It can lead to significant social isolation. I have experienced all of these along my journey, and then some.
Infertility is alienating.
Why women would choose to turn on each other is beyond comprehension. Because when everybody fights, everybody loses.
It used to be that infertility message boards and blogs were a safe place to seek comfort. It used to be that women could reach out to other women on a similar path while remaining anonymous. It used to be that under the cover of screen names, we would offer words of support and possibly even resources. It used to be that we were in this together.
But lately there’s been a shift. Here and there, brave women are coming forward and sharing their journeys. They are doing it to help others, to convey a message of hope, and to relieve the emotional burden that suffering in silence creates. They are standing up, using their names, and telling it like it is.
And they are under attack.
What used to be a safe place suddenly feels a lot less safe.
Women who share stories of multiple miscarriages are hearing, “at least you CAN get pregnant” in response. I assure you, fellow infertility soldiers, there is no comfort in conceiving a child only to have him silently slip away at 6, 8, 10, 12, or even 20 weeks. I lost one at 9, two at 13, and one at 18 weeks. I loved them all. And despite my two incredible children, not a day goes by that I don’t think about that last one…a sweet little baby boy lost in June. I should be nine months pregnant right now. I should be decorating one more nursery. I should be washing and folding tiny clothes. Instead, I am trying to remain focused on what I have and move on from the longing that threatens to shatter my soul.
My journey has been long and emotionally exhausting. Excruciating at times. For the first half I heard, “at least you can get pregnant” over and over again. It felt like tiny daggers of shame were stabbing my soul each time I heard it. Today I hear, “at least you have your two” or “at least they’re healthy”. What can I say? It’s hard to argue with that kind of logic. But it certainly doesn’t erase the loss(es).
Incidentally, the Center for Disease Control estimates that 11% of couples that have one child go on to experience secondary infertility.
Other women are competing over who has endured more rounds of IVF, who had the worst reactions to the hormones and medications, and who has been trying for the longest amount of time. People, it seems, would rather be the worst-case scenario (and hopefully get the most social support) than join a growing number of Americans and fight the war together.
I can tell you with certainty that there is no trophy for being the worst case. After losing my baby boy, and nearly losing my life in the process, I was later told that I was one of two cases like that in the 30 years that my doctor’s practice has been open. Being a medical mystery doesn’t make me feel any better, and it certainly won’t bring my baby back.
But sharing my story and helping others does add a small ray of sunshine to an otherwise dreary journey. Receiving email from people who feel just a little bit better knowing that I am here, and fighting both with them and on their behalf, gives me a reason to keep looking forward.
At least once a day I have to remind myself that my journey to conceive and carry to term is likely over, but my journey to help others along the way has only just begun. Together we can get through this. Together we can fight for more resources and better insurance coverage. Together we can move forward.
But if we remain at war with one another, we will all suffer. We will force couples to remain silent. We will continue to lose friendships and end marriages. We will spiral into episodes of anxiety and depression that will undoubtedly affect other areas of our lives.
Because when everybody fights, everybody loses.
Let’s make a pact to fight infertility instead of fighting each other. Let’s make a pact to listen and empathize, even when it’s hard, and offer the support that we seek in return. Let’s make a pact to fight this enormous war hand in hand until we get to the end.
How has infertility touched your life?
Oh Katie, I have written about that no mans land called Secondary Infertility. Losses and loss of hope are no stranger to me. Surrounded by friends having their fifth babies … and holding back tears when people told me to be happy with the one that I had. After adopting our second, people would have the nerve to say, well, even tho she is not really yours, at least you can forget all that other nonsense … oh the comments, the stories – it is a war zone out there – and it really shouldn’t be.
What a great article you wrote here … I know how much your heart aches, it always will …
Amen! There can be enough support in the world to go around. No one needs to compete for the badge of most tragic case.
I have been very fortunate to not have to deal with infertility, but I did miscarry my first pregnancy at 11 weeks. The very idea that someone could suggest that as some kind of consolation prize is absolutely chilling to me. Tough to find any consolation in the words “at least you can get pregnant” when you’re mourning a loss. I am so sorry that someone said that to you.
Wonderful post. I have endured through infertility and was often shocked at the insensitive things people would say when they heard we were having trouble and even after my daughter was conceived through treatments. “Oh you were lucky, I had to go through so many more treatments then you” or “It could be worse both you and your husband could have a problem.” As if the fact that I was the one with the issue is better or worse than if my husband had a problem. I’ve seen the attacks you are referring to and think it keeps many women from sharing their story. Some woman are probably censoring themselves to avoid conflict. I think that is such a disservice to the community. There is such a spectrum of infertility issues and you often only hear the most extreme experiences. I hope your post inspires more women to share their story.
We spent a decade in the land of infertility before we finally conceived our son via IVF. I was fortunate to find the online community at Stirrup Queens, which kept me going even when it got dark. Mel does a wonderful job keeping a positive and supportive space, and encouraging us to get out and talk about it! Adoption, infertility, and loss are all taboo subjects which are misunderstood by so many people. She has commented before on the “pain competition” which occurs so often within the IF community.
I will soon be dealing with secondary infertility. (Once we start trying. Right now we are simply not preventing, which works as birth control for us.) At least this time we know what we need to do. Small comfort, though.
A beautiful call for change! My husband and I have been waging the war on Infertility for almost 5 years. We have lost 9 sweet souls but we haven’t lost hope and we won’t ever lose that! We have encountered a LOT of the above and are even guilty of some as well. What a great reminder that it isn’t about who has it worst or how your journey is harder. It’s about the journey. The journey of finding your baby or allowing your baby to find you. Thanks for speaking truth, Katie.
Katie, let me start by saying that your strength and determination will help put an end to this “war”. I was told at 24 that i had DOR and that becomming pregnant could be a challenge as i was not eligible for IVF because of my low egg reserve. We decided to try what we could which was insemination after drug therapy. Three unsuccessful tries later i developed an infection from the insemination and unfortunately lost one egg and tube with my other tube damaged. I myself became one of those women who thought well at least you can get pregnant. Once emerging from severe depression we were told by the Doctor’s to start looking at other options!! Adoption was not even a word in my vocabulary. I could not see myself loving someone else’s child as much as i could love my own. I thank god that those feelings didn’t stop us from going forward. Today i have two thriving boys ages 10 & 12 who we adopted at 2 & 4. To this day we have had over a dozen foster children and i have never felt more love and support from our friends and family. The path often chosen for us may not be the most conventional or certainly the easiest but i wouldn’t change a thing. Trust me when i say never be ashamed of your situation and speak freely as you never know who is going through something similiar. Katie again thank you and know that my heart aches for you & sean and your losses.
Hi, really amazing and thought provoking. I have 1 child and have since had around 3 miscarriages. I think the points you touched on re women attacking other women is so very true and so very real. I hate that when you tell someone something, that they have had it worse. Why cant we share our stories without having to have it compared? We all have feelings and they are unique to our lives . Keep up the great writing!
A very good point. I think in order to have empathy, we need only remember that this can happen to anyone. I have to admit I felt pretty proud of myself that I got pregnant so easily at the age of 38 with my first child and had a healthy child. How silly! Six years and one miscarriage later, she is my only child. I wrote a post in August about deciding to pack up the baby stuff. I have included the link here. I had my miscarriage on Christmas eve of last year at 6 weeks just when I thought I was being given a second chance. Human reproduction is still in many ways a big mystery and yes, infertility and pregnancy loss can happen to anyone.
While I haven’t been in the middle of this one, I’ve seen it happen. Who is “more infertile” and who has “more of a right” to be upset about their journey.
I think we all need to realize that everyone we meet is having some sort of struggle. And while we can say “but *I* have it worse” … it doesn’t mean that other person’s pain is any less real.