Infertility is typically defined as not being able to get pregnant after one year (or longer) of unprotected sex. Just about everyone knows at least one person who is struggling to get pregnant. And if you can’t think of someone right off the bat, I can guarantee that there is someone close to you that maybe just hasn’t told you they are struggling. In fact, according to the CDC, 1 in 8 couples have trouble getting pregnant or sustaining a pregnancy.Furthermore, after six months of trying, only 60% of couples will conceive without medical assistance. That leaves 40% that may end up needing some type of fertility treatment! Usually when we think about infertility we only think about the woman’s side of things. While this is very important and we should be sensitive with this topic, men are often forgotten in the equation. Truth be told, infertility is oftentimes just as hard on men as it is on women. In this article, I’d like to share about some of my own personal struggles with infertility, and address some of the common responses that I have received as I have opened up to people about the battle my wife and I are enduring.
Note: This post largely consists of my own personal experiences. Be aware that everyone’s journey with infertility is different, and therefore, someone may wish to be approached about their own personal journey in a different way from mine.
First reactions.
When talking to people about future plans or about any topic related to families, most people will ask “so do you want kids”? Before I say anything else, let me first address the fact that someone else’s family planning is not your business. You never know what someone may be going through, so unless they bring it up themselves, or it is someone that you are really close with, don’t ask that question in the first place. Whenever I am asked this question, my response is always the same, “Of course I do. Unfortunately, my wife and I have been blessed with infertility and are currently going through treatments so that we can.” (More on why I say “blessed with,” later) More often than not people will get very quiet and give me a look as if I had told them that I enjoy sticking pencils up my nose. Then, without a doubt, I get one of three responses. First, I will either get a question about adoption, second, I’ll hear a statement about how lucky I am, or lastly, I’ll get a story about how they knew of someone else who did this random thing and got pregnant. To be honest, these responses are incredibly frustrating. I do understand that people are trying to help and be comforting. Let’s be real, though, these responses are not helpful. All I really want is for someone to say, “Dude that sucks, I am sorry that’s happening,” and move on.
Photo by Janko Ferlič on Unsplash
“You could always just adopt.”
Adoption is a wonderful blessing for so many people. And I can guarantee that the majority of couples who are struggling with infertility have had many conversations with each other about the possibility of adoption. But to someone in the thick of a battle with infertility, saying things like, “Well, you can always adopt!” can really hurt. For some, adoption is just not a currently viable option due to cost or living situation. For others, the pain of thinking about giving up on having their own biological child is just too much. The best move is to assume that the couple has already considered this option, and to allow them to bring it up themselves if it is something they want to discuss with you.
I am lucky?
Hearing that I am lucky that I can’t have kids right now is one of the most frustrating comments to receive. Oftentimes, the people who tell me I am lucky are single and have no ambition to have a family in their current lifestyle (note that I have gotten this comment from both men and women). To me, infertility is not luck, it is a difficult and unfortunate part of life that my wife and I have to struggle through together. I do not care that we’re not at risk of having an “oops baby”, or that I get “unlimited sex”. I do not care that it means my wife and I don’t have to take care of a crying baby all through the night. I would take an “oops”, I would give up “unlimited sex”, I would gladly rock my crying baby all through the night if it meant that I got to be a father. If you are ever tempted to tell someone who is struggling with infertility how lucky they are, stop and think. Try stepping into their shoes to gain an understanding of what it means to feel such an incredible yearning and loss for something that can’t yet be part of your life.
Photo by Nynne Schrøder on Unsplash
Why advice does not help…and what you can do instead.
Oftentimes, we use advice as a defense mechanism. When we are uncomfortable, we try and offer a bit of wisdom to help make a trial that someone is going through seem a little more manageable, and a little less scary. While advice-giving is well-meaning, it can feel like a punch to the gut. As if my wife and I haven’t already tried everything we could think of (and that the internet and doctors could think of) to help us get pregnant. Almost two years ago, I was talking to an older man who had gone through the same thing earlier in his life. After struggling with infertility, he and his wife chose to adopt two girls from Korea (where his wife is from). As we were talking, he said a few things that stood out to me. First, he said that “he and his wife were blessed with infertility”. Second, he mentioned that, “It’s a pain no one can understand without going through the fire of doctors and medicine”. And third, “People’s advice is the hardest thing to hear. They speak on a matter they know nothing about, but act as if they are experts. Talking about their friend’s sister’s uncle who had issues and miraculously got pregnant because of a diet they did, or a sex position they tried.” For me, this man hit the nail on the head. Unless they have gone through it themselves, people don’t truly understand the pain of battling the “blessing of infertility”, but they still talk like they get it. Rather than acting like you know how to solve the problem, instead reach out with love, kindness, and a desire to understand. You don’t have to fix someone’s struggle in order to help them. Silent solidarity, a hug, or even just an acknowledgment of their struggle (again, “Man, that sucks. I’m sorry you have to go through that”) is often far better than trying to offer up what will most likely be not very helpful advice. Also, it’s important to remember that unless someone directly asks for ideas for sex positions to try, assume they don’t want to know. That is a private and intimate part of life that should remain between partners.
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So What DO You Say?
When discussing someone’s struggle with infertility (or any struggle really), the best policy is to “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” Personally, all I really want is to be treated normally. And I believe that the majority of people who are experiencing infertility are in the same boat. We are not a ticking bomb that you have to walk on eggshells around. It’s lonely knowing that you are part of such a small community in the world that has this issue, and the best way to remedy that loneliness is through genuine connection. Be honest about your comfort level with the subject — if it makes you uncomfortable to talk to someone about their infertility, then let them know. That is okay! And feel free to ask non-invasive questions. Stop, think, and reach out in empathy.
Figure out where you are with talking about infertility. Talk to your partner about what it means to you to have a child or to want a child, and cherish the heck out of your family or significant other.
Richard Palmer was born and raised in Farmington, New Mexico, and then moved on to live in Alaska and Texas before finally marrying his high school best friend, Aubrey-Dawn. He works at a residential treatment center, and specializes in working with ASD adolescents. He is studying recreational therapy and art.
Figure out where you are with talking about infertility. Talk to your partner about what it means to you to have a child or to want a child, and cherish the heck out of your family or significant other.
