Infertility: The Silent Diagnosis

Infertility.  So much packed into one word.  It's the diagnosis that is not visible to others.  One where your emotions are compressed and a smile is plastered on your face because the moment you speak of it, platitudes from others roll out.  And let's be honest, the platitudes suck.  Really, the only thing one needs to hear is "I'm here for you.  I'm here if you need a hug, to cry it out, to vent, or to just sit in silence."  Just "I am here".  

You see, infertility feels like a lonely journey.  You would never know that if you visit a fertility clinic as so many women come and go each day.  But it is lonely.  And with each pregnancy announcement from friends and family, it gets even lonelier.  

I wish there were more resources available to those struggling with fertility.  More support groups, resources, understanding.  I wish I had more as I navigated the waters of fertility treatments and experienced the hope and loss and utter heart break.  That's probably also why I've been so silent on here.  I didn't want to share this private journey.  It was too painful to share it, to feel like my body failed me in the one thing that I wanted most:  to be a mom.  

You see, giving up on the dream of becoming a mother is almost like giving up on being a woman.  When my body could not produce a child, the thing unique to only women, I felt like a failure, felt like I was less-than.  Honestly, think about how often women are asked when they want to have kids, how many kids they want, how long after marriage will they wait....those questions are frequently interspersed in conversations.  And for a woman dealing with infertility, the fake smile begins, and the inner heartache cries out.  And this is why it can feel so lonely.  Rarely does someone want to sit with a person experiencing heartache and grief.  Grief is hard and the emotions that come with it vast.  Which is why many women facing infertility hide and suppress it all.

But maybe finding the courage to speak up and to share your story is what can help others heal.  Not heal to forget but heal to remember and find strength to put one foot in front of the other when grief spills over.  Strength to just sit with the feelings and truly feel them.

Therapy has been a huge help in this.  Because the emotions can be strong and unyielding and being able to talk about it all and unpack the vast emotions has enabled me to better understand grief, hope, loss, and love.  It is giving me words to finally share the journey in hopes that someone else may connect and reduce the feeling of loneliness.  This journey doesn’t have to be silent.  There are many voices ready to share their experience and find connection.