I’ve come to accept that infertility isn’t really something people want to talk about. After all, people like to talk about happy things, things they feel educated about, or things we all have in common, like current events. But people avoid talking about the sad things, especially the sad things they can’t relate to. Even though about 1 in 6 couples struggle with some form of infertility, you would never know it, because people typically don’t talk about it when they’re actually going through it.
This silence presents a problem for you and me because when people don’t talk about something, it’s like it doesn’t exist. Yet my infertility very much exists to me, and your infertility very much exists to you. After all, we carry it around in our bodies every day. It’s part of who we are. We cannot escape it.
But when you cannot escape something other people don’t acknowledge, you can start to feel lonely, and maybe even a little insane. T.S. Eliot once said, “Hell is alone.” While I won’t debate him on theology, I will admit that loneliness is torture. We were meant to have a relationship with God and others, and when we feel like we are cut off from that on this matter because the silence, we can quickly spiral off into that dreaded feeling of loneliness.
But I suppose that’s why I’m here. I’m a woman like you, who has cried when no one was looking. I’m a woman like you, who felt sick when yet another friend announced a pregnancy. I’m a woman like you, who has doubted her value, her worth, her status, and her place in this world because of this issue. I’m a woman like you who has wrestled with God and found strength in meekness through the wrestling.
I’m here because I have a lot to say about the sad things that others might not talk about. I’m here because some of us need to process through this, and because, as my favorite author wisely wrote, “Sorrow turns out to be not a state, but a process.” – C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
So yeah, let’s process this together.