What NOT to Say to Someone Struggling with Infertility

So often when a person suffering through infertility opens up about their struggles, they're greeted with insensitive and hurtful comments. Most of these comments aren't intended to add to the pain; some people simply don't know what not to say. This post will hopefully shed a little light on the comments we definitely could live without and the comments we'd love to hear. I apologize in advance if some remarks appear harsh, but this is a true representation of what IFers think/feel when someone says these things to us.

What Not to Say  

1. Just Relax / Take a Vacation / Stop Trying
"Just relax" is probably the phrase heard most often in the infertility world, and it's among the most annoying. Relaxing doesn't cure medical diseases, including infertility. I’d love to see the look on a cancer patient’s face if someone said, “hey, hows about skipping chemo and going on a cruise. I bet that’ll do the trick!” If you know someone who got pregnant by relaxing after 6 months of trying, they weren't infertile. They were normal. It can take a normal couple up to 12 months of actively trying before getting pregnant.
Infertility is a medical disease caused by real medical conditions. No amount of relaxing is going to cure someone's DOR or give a man who suffered from testicular cancer millions of motile sperm. Telling someone to "just relax" is trivializing their struggles and basically saying you think it's all in their head.

2. Why Don't You Just Adopt?
First, there's no such thing as "just adopting." Second, what gives me less of a right to pursue having a biological child and getting to experience every aspect of pregnancy than someone who doesn't have a hard time getting pregnant? The cost may be greater, but what wouldn't you do for your kids? It's completely normal to want to be genetically tied to your own children, to see your nose or your spouse's eyes when you look at your child. Adoption is a wonderful way to grow your family, and it's something Jason and I are strongly considering pursuing regardless of our treatment outcome, but it's not something that everyone is comfortable with. And it's nothing to be taken lightly. It is an extremely lengthy and emotionally and financially draining process that some people can't or choose not to undergo. 

3. Maybe God doesn't think you're ready to have a child.
This is by far the comment I despise the most, and if you say this to me, you better not be within arm's reach because I will probably lose Jesus on you. God doesn't think I'm ready for a child, but He thinks a child molester or murderer is? I don't think so. I'm not being punished for some unknown sin. I believe we all go through struggles, and this is mine. God has used this to bring me to my knees and lead me back to Him. Maybe that's the reason I'm going through this, maybe there is no reason - it just is what it is, but I don't believe God thinks I'd be such a horrible mother that an abusive drug addict is more deserving of a child than I am.

4. Are you sure you're doing it right? Want me to donate sperm? (Or other crude statements)
Really? Grow up.

5. If you want kids so badly, here! Take mine!
I'd give almost anything to have a child. Please don't joke about willingly giving yours away.

6. At least you don't have to deal with this morning sickness!
Don't continuously complain to your infertile friend about your horrible pregnancy. We don't feel sorry for you. We would gladly hug a toilet every single day for 40 straight weeks in order to bring a baby into our lives. I'm sure pregnancy is brutal, I can't wait to experience it, but a little thoughtfulness would be appreciated.

7. I know exactly how you feel! We tried for 4 whole months before we got pregnant!
Nope, not even close. Infertility, by definition, is being unable to conceive after one year of trying. Everything up to those 12 months, that's the fun part. After that, it's nothing but doctor-ordered schedules that take all the spontaneity out of your love life, invasive internal ultrasounds, raging fertility-drug-induced hormones, belly/bum/thigh bruises from daily injections, holding your husband's hand while your doctor is inseminating you, or if you're real lucky, being put under anesthesia to harvest your eggs and, above all, praying that it worked so you won't have to go through it all again next month. Does your 4 months sound similar to that?

8. So-in-so adopted then 6 months later...bam! Pregnant! You should try that!
Wrong on so many levels. Let's put aside all the medical diagnoses and lab work indicating my ridiculously bleak chances of getting pregnant on my own. You're suggesting I adopt a child, not in order to love him and raise him and provide a loving home, but in hopes that somehow his presence will magically jump start my reproductive system so I could have a biological child? No, that's not horrible at all. And what am I suppose to do if I do happen to miraculously conceive? Pass the adopted child along to another infertile couple like a lucky rabbit's foot?

9. You're so lucky. You can sleep in/travel/go out/etc.
Yes, I can sleep in. Travel? Sure, as long as it doesn't conflict with the nearly weekly doctor appointments, testing, or procedures. I also can go out on dates with my husband, but I'm pretty sure parents aren't under house arrest. But you know what? I'd trade in my late mornings and occasional date nights in a heartbeat for the chance to be a mother.

10. There are worse things in the world and people worse off than you.
This is absolutely true. It doesn't make my struggle any less painful.


What To Say/Do

1. I'm so sorry.

2. I can't imagine how hard this must be.

3. I'm here for you if you ever need to talk/vent.

4. Offer support and prayer.

5. Consider how they would want to receive news of your pregnancy. A quick email to share the news before announcing it in a social setting would give them the opportunity to deal with any painful emotions privately.

6. DO share your wonderful news! We are still capable of being happy for others.

It doesn't take much to show your support for someone struggling through infertility. For more information on how to support your loved one, please check out RESOLVE's Family & Friends support page.

Coming Out

I have a problem. The evidence is there. If you come to my house and snoop around a bit, it won't take long to see the tell-tale signs. Peek into the medicine cabinet, and you’ll find needles and unused vials of medicine. Take a glance over at the counter, and you’ll see a biohazard disposal for sharps. In the fridge...more meds waiting to be used. 

I have a problem. I’m infertile. Well, I like to call it infertile-lite. My problem stems from something that has the potential to be fixed with less invasive treatments. I don’t claim to be in the same category as someone facing severe Male Factor Infertility or Diminished Ovarian Reserve or many of the countless evil faces Infertility (IF) takes. Those ladies (and men) are the true warriors on this battlefield. I have a condition called PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome) which is bad enough in itself, but unfortunately mine is coupled with a thyroid disorder called Hashimoto’s Disease. Treatable? Yes. Fixable? Maybe. But still a bad deal.

I was diagnosed with both in August 2010, 5 months after our wedding. At the time, I didn’t really know what having PCOS would mean in terms of conceiving, I just knew not having a period wasn't a good sign. I always had irregular, practically non-existent cycles, so deep down I had a feeling it’d take me a little longer to get knocked up than the average gal. It wasn’t until I went home and researched PCOS that it hit me that this wasn’t going to be easy. 

After a year of trying to treat both conditions with an OBGYN and an Endocrinologist, my Hashi's was under control, but the PCOS wasn’t budging. Both doctors said there was nothing more they could do for me so I was referred to a Reproductive Endocrinologist, a doctor who specializes in fertility. We've now been with the RE for going on 9 months.

For those of you lucky enough to have never stepped foot in a fertility clinic, take my word for it, it gets real old, real fast. This is basically your 2^nd home. You’re there weekly, sometimes more, getting poked and prodded with needles or having your lady bits examined more invasively than anyone deserves. IF is not fun. It's not just popping a pill and waiting to get pregnant. Any sense of privacy or normalcy in the way you originally thought you’d increase your family flies out the window when you’re stabbing yourself in the belly with fertility drugs or your husband is leaving “deposits” at the clinic. You’re constantly reminded of your struggles when you see a lady with that oh so cute baby bump, or when a co-worker brings his newborn to work to show off, or when you’re seemingly endlessly bombarded with photos/statuses/announcements on Facebook of your mommy and daddy friends’ precious little ones. The reminders are everywhere, and while you’re happy for everyone else, man does it sting. And the further you get into the battle, the more it hurts. I’m not criticizing anyone for posting photos or -- God-forbid -- getting pregnant (gasp!). I hope to join the Proud Momma Club one day, and then you’ll be the ones flooded with updates about my little bambino. It’s just a hard path to walk down when it seems like you’re the only one on it.

You may be asking yourself why this crazy girl is airing out all her dirty laundry on the interwebz. I’ll tell you why. Infertility sucks, but it’s not something to be ashamed of or to feel guilty about. It is not a punishment from God anymore than cancer is, although it can certainly feel that way sometimes. I completely understand why anyone dealing with IF would want to keep some sort of privacy around them. So much of our privacy is stripped away from us in this process, it's reasonable to want to hold on to what little you can. I’m coming out of the IF closet because I want to raise awareness about Infertility, and I want people who do choose to suffer silently to realize that they are not alone. One in 8 couples is battling with IF, and some studies suggest it could be as many as 1 in 6. We are not alone. We are not any less of women or men because of it. We are stronger because of it. We will be better mothers and fathers because of the pain and hardship we're facing now. And one day, when we hold our child in our arms, whether that child was created through Intrauterine Insemination or In Vitro Fertilization or surrogacy or donor egg/sperm/embryo or adoption, all the injections and procedures and those fun ultrasounds, all the tears, all the heartaches...it will all be so worth it!