Recently, someone told me they were worried they may be experiencing infertility.
“You’ve been the biggest support without even knowing it,” they told me. As someone who tries to be sensitive to infertility, I found this to be such a nice compliment.
Of course I had my suspicions and recognized the signs but I didn’t say a word. Want to know why? Because your infertility is safe here.
You are safe here.
In my home, I will never ask you if you are pregnant.
In fact, I will never even ask you when/if you are planning on having children. Or coyly mention with a wink, “So…when are you going to make me an aunt?”
You’ll never hear me wonder how long you’ve ‘been trying.’
And once you do tell me that you’ve been struggling with starting a family, you won’t hear me belittle you by asking you if you are ‘doing it right.’ I will never tell you that you haven’t tried long enough. Even though infertility is defined as trying for a year, I recognize the heartache and know it is real even after 4 or 5 months.
The worry is real.
The wondering is heavy.
The what-ifs are consuming.
When I know your heart is hurting in this way, I’ll never mention what a good mother you would be …even if it is so true. I won’t tell you how cute your kids are going to be. I won’t try to guess which features you will pass along and which your husband will.
I certainly won’t tell you that I will be your surrogate or tell you that you can have one of my children like some people do …because those people are some kind of crazy.
I will not ask you how many children you want to have or which gender you are hoping for. I won’t ask if you are going to ‘try for a girl’ since you have so many boys …because I realize you are not God.
I won’t ask you if ‘you’re done’ because you don’t need to reveal such a tender topic to me.
I won’t question it if you never offer to hold my baby. I won’t call you out on it. I won’t force you to.
My feelings won’t be hurt if you don’t show up to a family baby shower or choose to only send a gift. We can bond in another way that doesn’t involve so much baby talk. I totally get that.
I will not say, “Are you going to have another one?” Or worse, “When are you going to have another one?”
Any sentence that starts with “At least you…” and then talks about family building will not come from my lips unless it is dripping with sarcasm.
I won’t try to fix your infertility. Or offer advice. I can’t explain it away. I hope you always know that you can come to us if you have questions or would like recommendations, but I won’t ever pry. I’ve been where you are before and it’s no bueno.
The reason I won’t say those things is not because I don’t care. I do care. I care enough to let you come to me. With a disease that robs you of your power and your timing, it’s the least I can do to show you love. Let me empower you with your own story, your own timing, your own words.
Your infertility is safe here.
Your pain is safe here.
You’re safe here.