This question starts with an assumption (based on our experience and the experiences of others we know). This assumption is that (1) you possibly agonized over whether or not to go to a baby-centered event (first birthday, bris, baby naming, baptism) and (2) you were not invited to a few of these aforementioned events. If these two cases didn’t apply to you, we’d love to hear from you as well.

Question Three: were people understanding if you didn’t attend a baby-centered event? Did they even know what you went through emotionally to attend events or did you keep that to yourself? At the same time, if you weren’t invited to baby-centered events (to spare your feelings), how did you feel?

We sat down to get to work and truly, the white elephant in the room that needed to be spoken before we could even talk about the topic of the evening (which became Question #3 for tomorrow morning). We had one response for question two. A question in which we solicited positive experiences.

Was it the caveat that we desired stories where the words and wisdom came from an outsider? I think anyone who has turned to RESOLVE or infertility chat rooms has gotten a virtual shoulder to lean on during the process. We’re well aware that our insanely nice RE story is not the norm. But to be honest, we were really grasping at straws to come up with a story that came from an outsider. I know that there were friends who were great listeners. But I can’t remember anything specific that was said or done that helped us through IF.

There is definitely a chasm–and the other side is not this evil land teaming with pamphlet-waving psychos screaming that you’re going to hell for doing IVF (let’s just imagine that those people live on an island in the middle of the river that divides the SQ and SPJ from the non-infertiles. Luckily, for the most part, you can drift right by that island and ignore it unless you know people living there). That land is actually teeming with people who are “well-intentioned” who “want to help.” But they manage to stick their foot in it because…at the end of the day…they just don’t understand.

The problem actually lies in the fact that they won’t admit that they don’t understand. There are many places in life where people admit that they can’t place themselves in another person’s shoes. But when it comes to trying-to-conceive, most people of child-bearing age believe they have a leg to stand on when doling out advice or words of sympathy. I had a coworker
(well-intentioned) who told me that she could imagine what I was going through because it took them three months to conceive and those two months that they didn’t were torture. She was trying to be sympathetic. She was trying to relate. But in the end, if you haven’t been a SQ or a SPJ, perhaps you can never truly get it.

Though we’re trying to change that fact with this book. Providing ourselves (and you) with something we can hand off to the people in our lives who need to understand what we’re experiencing. I’m not talking about every friend. Those people I’ll just direct to library copies. But the people who matter. Who need to know how they can help. Those people will get a nice copy of our book, expertly wrapped in shiny paper. With a ribbon. Because we’re nice like that over here on our side of the river. At least when it comes to the topic of fertility.

Not just in my house as my kids sleep. But on the board as well. What could this mean? That the rain has put people in a read-only mood? That no one (gasp) has stories about positive advice/words/actions that helped them through the process? I know we’ve gotten many hits today, but no comments. Therefore, a renewed plea for stories.

All of my best comments come from insiders. My mother went through infertility (11 years to have three children). She was a great resource not only for information but for support as well. I had friends who were going through treatments at the same time. My best friend, who is the godmother of my children, is not infertile, but she was an amazing support (ha! So here is an example of someone outside the experience). Unfortunately, while I can come up with many good stories about how she was supportive during the actual pregnancy, I can’t come up with a specific from the infertility years. Perhaps I’m having a touch of memory suppression…

But my other good story of support comes from someone who has their feet in both worlds–my RE. For all I know, he became an RE because he went through infertility. I don’t really know anything about his personal life except that he has a daughter who went to my high school. But for the sake of this story, we’ll go with the assumption that he never went through IF. But he works in that world so he isn’t completely an outsider. Then again, I know plenty of people who did not have the warm and fuzzy experience we had at our RE’s office. Wish everyone could live in our area.

Anyway, while we had a nurse assigned to our case who delivered test results and answered questions, often he would call us as well to further explain something. There were many days when he told me, “it’s okay to be disappointed. But it’s not okay to be discouraged.” He called us the day before the IUI when we conceived and left us a message saying that he just felt in his bones that it would be our turn this month (he later said that if he truly thought his words had worked some type of magic, he would spend his entire day phoning infertile women).

But our best story about our RE came when I was driving home one day from work. He had called my cell phone and was going over some test results (this was back in the days when we drove and spoke on cell phones at the same time). He told me that everything looked so good that he wanted to do an IUI instead of timed-intercourse. I was so embarrassed, but I had to admit to him that we needed another month to pull the money together since we didn’t think we’d be doing IUI that month. There was a pause and then he told me that the clinic would take on the cost of the IUI because he felt so strongly that we had a good chance to conceive and he didn’t want to let it pass. Which was just about the most thoughtful thing anyone did for us during our treatments. We didn’t conceive that month (and the RE joked that at least it was free), but it gave us the hope to keep trying since we knew someone else out there cared if we got pregnant and had our back. Sort of the same idea as a coach. It’s not that you can’t be a baseball player without one, but they help you to keep focused and give you strength when you begin to doubt yourself. Thank you, Dr. RE.

I still get choked up when I drive by that RE’s building.

Okay, so now that we’ve spilled, it’s your turn. Send in your stories. The kind words that were said to you. The coworker who bought you a latte because she could see that you had been crying after a BFN. The friend who said just the right thing. Or the therapist or RE who proverbally held your hand and gave you the strength you needed to remain focused on the goal.

Come on, I know these stories are out there.

What was the best advice you received on your IF journey? Kindest thing someone has done for you that made a difference (either given you the energy to continue or made you feel like you were not alone). Or…gulp…if you don’t have stories to tell…let us know that as well.

The ideal answer to this question (for our book’s purposes) would have the advice coming from someone who is not a Stirrup Queen or Sperm Palace Jester. In other words, a non-infertile. But I think it would also be telling if many people had their words/actions coming from an insider. It would then beg the question–is it possible for people to bridge the chasm and know the right thing to say?

I’m going to wait until later in the day to answer this question myself.

What’s the stupidest thing someone has said to you in regards to infertility?

Our favourite:
After getting through a half-hour lip-quivering conversation about my infertility, a friend shnuzzled her child’s face against her cheek while she told me that she hoped we’d get through this ordeal and one day get to experience the wonders of motherhood. She then preceeded to tell me all of the joys she was experiencing to entice me to keep trying to conceive. We haven’t had coffee since…

In other words, tell us the most hurtful times, the most ridiculous comments, the worst advice that flew in the face of everything you knew to be true (e.g. “just relax!”). The more specific the better. Give us the bloody, gory details of that heart-ripping moment. No story considered “too long.”