I take every opportunity I can to fight the stigma that surrounds infertility. I want to flip the script and bring light to this battle, which affects one in eight couples, or about 7.3 million women. Though I’m part of these statistics, I know that this label does not define me.
To be honest, my own infertility journey has completely changed my life and altered the person I am today. Infertility has taken so many things from me, but has left much BETTER things in its place (and that’s not even including the baby!). Here are some things that infertility took away:
My Need to Be in Control
. . . and gave me resilience. When we first began our journey toward parenthood, I felt like I had it all figured out. We looked at calendars and “planned” a summer baby. Many summers came and went, but still no baby. Dozens of doctor’s appointments . . . still no baby. Medications, diagnoses, needles for YEARS, and still no baby. But little did I know, that with each curve ball we were thrown, we were developing a resilience and faith that we would benefit from for the long run.
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My Depression
. . . and gave me passion. I spent the first part of our infertility journey in a very dark place. Feelings of inadequacy, self-consciousness, and hopelessness flooded my mind. Why couldn’t my body just do what it was designed to do? It wasn’t long before I made it my mission to find out why. I spent hours researching my options and, literally, any information I could find on the topic. From this new-found passion, I eventually found doctors who listened and CARED. I finally found answers! Even now, this passion has not subsided, and I hope to use what I have learned to help others.
My Timidity
. . . and gave me a voice. I have always been one to be polite — to smile and nod anytime a doctor spoke to me. I always assumed that medical professionals had all the answers. I put blind trust in them and kept my mouth shut, even though I knew something was wrong. What was I thinking? This is MY body, OUR family . . . no one was going to fight for this dream as hard as I was willing to. It was then that I found my voice and my ability to advocate for myself and my family. I vowed to always trust my gut and fight for what is best for us.
My Doubt
. . . and gave me hope. “It is unclear if you will ever be able to carry a child,” my doctor announced. I will never forget how I felt in that moment. I could feel my hands gently trembling as I did everything in my power to prevent myself from melting into a puddle of tears on the floor in his office. In the months following, I tried to imagine never being a mother, but ultimately refused to accept that idea. Though each negative test was discouraging, there was renewed hope in each of them. I knew that it was going to happen for us one way or another. We learned to practice positive thinking and keep our eyes on the prize.
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My Vulnerability
. . . and gave me strength. What they never seem to publish in the statistics is the fact that 100% of people that fight the battle with infertility come out stronger on the other side. During my battle, I hit many low points, but overall, I gained significant strength. I now know that our marriage can handle anything life may throw at us. It is a special kind of strength that only one in eight women have, and I am honored to be part of this elite group of superheroes.
So, thank you, infertility, for the resilience, passion, voice, hope, and strength. You can keep all that other stuff; I won’t be needing it back.
If you or a loved one is experiencing infertility, please use these resources to find doctors, support groups, insurance information, and more:
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