So often we talk about the positive pregnancy test or how easy it was for someone to become pregnant.
Very rarely do we talk about the struggle some women face while trying to conceive.
We don’t talk about the struggle that comes along with seeing pregnancy announcements. And how hard it is to not let the jealousy or the anger at your body creep in.
Or how happy you are for them, all while it takes an emotional toll on you.
We don’t talk about how two days prior you were staring at a negative pregnancy test. Or the tears you cried on the bathroom floor that day, because yet once again it’s not your month.
Even after months or years of praying and trying.
You don’t admit that sometimes you check those pregnancy tests thirty minutes later. Sometimes even digging them out of the trashcan the next day.
All in hopes that this one time it took a little while longer to register positive. Because the logic in that makes so much sense that you feel ridiculous afterward.
Or how you start calculating when the baby would be due before taking a pregnancy test. And how you think of all the cute ways let your family know.
How you have a cute Halloween announcement planned, but then your period shows up. But that’s okay, Thanksgiving and Christmas are right around the corner and you have ideas for that too.
Only, Christmas passes and there’s still no pregnancy.
Or the weight gain that happens even though you’re trying to lose weight. Because doctors tell you that you’ll have to lose a certain amount of weight to get pregnant.
We don’t talk about the inner turmoil that arises when you’re asked when a baby is coming. And oh boy do people love to ask that question without thinking about the consequences it will have.
Or, how it makes you want to scream if you hear, “Relax and stop trying so hard! Making a baby is the fun part!” one more time.
As if you’re not trying hard enough to relax and keep the process of making a baby fun and not a job.
And why is it always the women who don’t have children (nor do they want a child anytime soon) think that giving advice is wise?
Much less do we talk about the emotions that come up when you receive unsolicited advice. From both women with and without children.
Or how inadequate it makes you feel about your inability to conceive. And how it makes you wonder what you are doing wrong if it’s so easy for everyone else.
Because it has to be you if it’s so easy for everyone else.
We don’t talk about the friendships lost or changed. Either because they can’t understand your struggle or don’t care to.
Or how isolated and alone that makes you feel.
We don’t talk about the dread of going to family events because you don’t want to face the question of “When are you having a baby?”. No matter how many times you request that the question not come up.
The question will come up and it will continue to.
And because of that, tears will continue to happen quietly in a bathroom of that family event. Because who wants to be the center of attention as they cry in front of everyone?
Certainly not you.
We don’t talk about the heart-wrenching losses that happen behind closed doors. Or how it’s easier to stay quiet than have to relive that heartache with anyone other than your partner.
Hell, it’s easier to stay quiet about all your struggles with anyone else but your partner. Because you don’t want to risk that unsolicited advice. Nor do you want to run the risk that someone will make light of your pain and struggle.
There are no cultural norms surrounding infertility. Because of that, it seems like you’re left to navigate this journey alone.
Except you’re not alone.
I see you. I empathize with you. I am you.