The following is a rant from an angry infertile. Reader discretion is advised.
I speak very openly about our fertility journey. I write a fucking blog and I allow my real life people to read it. How much more open can I get? If you have questions about our treatments, ask me. I’ll tell you. No problem. If you want to know how I’m coping, ask me, I welcome it. I’ll tell you. But please, unless you have experienced infertility or are an infertility medical professional, please, please, spare me the advice. Especially, if you conceived your child with ease. You are not an expert. You are lucky. Very lucky.
I know, that you are trying to be helpful and are not intentionally trying to anger me with your innocent offerings. But please know, that I know far more about female and male reproduction than I ever wanted to know. Ever. Ever.
If there was any hairbrain idea or even good ones to increase fertility, we’ve done it. We are embarking on what our fertility clinic calls “hi-tech” reproductive assistance. We are doing this because we have to — because this is our best chance at having our own child. Our biological child. We are not doing this because it sounds like fun or because we’ve got thousands of dollars to spare.
Please understand that my anger comes from the layers of my being that infertility has impacted. The ears that hear your ‘suggestion’ have not only done every conceivable to thing to become pregnant, but have questioned every aspect of her being. I have wondered why this is happening? Why do I not get to be a mom? What have I done to have karma bite me? I wonder if this is nature’s way of saying “you are not fit to be a mother”. I have questioned every wrong thing about me — my weight, my financial status, my personality, my intelligence — and wondered if these things would make me so horrible as a parent, that I don’t get to have the chance. I have questioned whether infertility is nature’s way of saying — we don’t want more of you — you are flawed. Your suggestion is heard as judgement. “Maybe you’re not trying hard enough… therefore, maybe you don’t deserve it.” It takes you a second to utter it but it destroys my entire day, evening, week, because I can’t stop thinking about it… and I bet you haven’t given it a second thought.
So please, get your head out of your ass, get a fucking clue and please, please don’t offer me any advice. I know that you can’t know what it’s like unless you’ve been there, but if you listen to me, I will help you understand.