Saturday, April 30, 2011

"Bust an Infertility Myth" - Today's Topic Part 1: God, Faith, and Infertility

Special Note:  The topics of spirituality, faith, and God are very sensitive subjects.  Every person has their own unique view of the way the world works.  The myths here are ones that the authors have heard in their own lives and have been unhelpful platitudes on their journeys.  They are words that some people truly do believe, but the authors here do not.  All myths are commonly held "beliefs" and throughout the week we've attempted busting many of those "beliefs" with other truths.  If you don't agree with us, that is absolutely okay.  As an infertile myself, I am constantly blaming myself for my infertility in little ways: I shouldn't have drank that coffee.  Do I exercise too much?  Am I relaxed today?  Did that speed bump we just drove o hurt something?  What is very unhelpful and damaging, when it comes to God and Infertility, is being told that the heavens are against us as well.

Photo courtesy of Monica Wiesblott.
The Seeds Were Sewn
Photopolymer Etching

Myth #1: If God meant for you to have children, you would already have them.

Busted:

My Friday began much like any other typical Friday. Hitting the alarm clock, hurrying through my shower, a quick kiss on the cheek to my husband and trying to wrestle with my three year old daughter to get to Preschool on time. Everything was normal except for the day. This particular Friday marked the end of the  two week period of time following my third IUI procedure. This “dreaded two week wait” was finally over! I could finally take that long awaited pregnancy test and confirm my suspicions. For the past couple of days, my breasts had become increasingly tender and  I had been feeling incredibly fatigued.

I made it to my office and slipped on my lab coat, then headed to the restroom to pee on a stick. I noticed my chart rack was full of patient’s charts, which meant I had a busy morning. So, I quickly peed on the stick, wrapped it up and slid it in my pocket. I didn’t even have the five minutes necessary to wait for the test to complete. I quickly became immersed in a pile of charts and patients. I saw a few pregnant patients, all they while, secretly smiling and knowing that I ,too, would be joining them very soon in the mommy to be club. Finally the morning ended and I sank into my desk chair before remembering I still had that  silly pee stick in my lab coat pocket. Excited, I grabbed the stick, and turned it over. Hmmm….well, that’s not what  I had expected. There was supposed to be two pink lines. But, instead, there was one, lonely little pink line staring up at me. My heart sank. I was confused. What about the breast tenderness and fatigue?? 

This cycle was textbook perfect. It didn’t make any sense.  Quickly, those old, painful memories and feelings began filling my mind. My stomach began churning and I felt a big, empty pit swelling. My eyes began to fill with tears, and I had to restrain myself from sobbing uncontrollably. I quickly ran to the bathroom to try and compose myself. It just didn’t make any sense. Suddenly, I heard those old familiar voices in my head, well meaning voices who never knew how to comfort me on days like this. Voices and words from family members, colleagues, and friends who tried to console me with old adages and sayings like, “All in God’s timing,… Maybe if you would just relax…Have you thought of adoption?…” Each more painful than the next. All were meant with the absolute best intentions. People just don’t know what to say anymore. Maybe I am just too sensitive. Perhaps, the absolute worst possible way to console me is by suggesting that somehow God’s greater plan doesn’t include me having more children. This brings me to the most painful myth regarding fertility that I would absolutely like to explore.

MYTH: “IF GOD WANTED YOU TO HAVE CHILDREN, YOU WOULD HAVE THEM ALREADY.”

Growing up there are a couple of dreams that every young girl has. First, all little girls dream of their wedding day. Walking down the aisle in a beautiful gown  and being swept of her feet by her own Prince Charming. Then, we all envision settling into our little homes with white picket fences and cute little curtains and maybe a dog or a cat. But the one dream that most young girls  all desire is to be a mommy.  Growing up in a Christian home, I was also taught that God has commanded us to “Go and be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:27). We all knew that we would grow up and get married and have babies. That’s just how it was. So, I found my Prince Charming, married him and settled into a beautiful starter home with my two little dogs and  fancy window treatments. We were ready for the next stage of our lives. So, we waited and waited. Nothing happened. Naturally, we visited our OBGYN (or in my case, my collaborating physician) and he suggested that we begin the preliminary workup for infertility. Wow…didn’t expect that. We were young, married, and healthy. We didn’t fit that “infertility“ mold. So, we began the journey of testing, ultrasounds, blood work, medications, a surgery and finally we conceived our little miracle baby. While bringing her home from the hospital, I looked up at my husband and said, “You know, we aren’t done yet. Our family isn’t complete.” He nodded in agreement.  We both knew that we intended to have more children.

This journey for baby #2 has been a long and arduous journey. We have almost succeeded (one ectopic pregnancy following IUI #2) and have felt very discouraged. However, there is one verse in the Bible that I must cleave too. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11). I have to believe that God wants the best for me, and has given me a very strong desire to have more children. I also believe that God has allowed the advancement of science to help those of us who need a little help in the reproductive department. 

Infertility is a disease process. It’s a horrible, painful disease that causes both emotional and physical pain and scarring. Just like any other disease process, God has allowed advancements in “treatments” to “treat and cure” infertility. Just like you would never tell a Diabetic, “If God wanted you to live, he would make your pancreas produce enough insulin,” you should never tell an infertility patient, “If God intended you to have children, he would have already given them too you.” You would never tell a patient with a horrible infection to simply wait and not take antibiotics, you would say, “Go ahead, take this medication as prescribed and you will feel better”. Besides, none of us have the right to speak for God. I believe that God has given me a strong desire to have another child, and just like everything else I have ever prayed for, his answer will either be, “yes, no or wait.” But, I would like for God to make that decision and not me, or  any other person trying to find something nice to say. Besides, whatever happened to my favorite old saying, “If you can’t find something nice to say, don’t say anything at all!”

Written by Ashlie from Georgia 
Visit her blog: Raising Miss Pullen

Busted Again:
Couples experiencing infertility often receive well-meaning but extremely insensitive "advice." We can all list the most popular ones: "Just relax and you'll get pregnant," or "you can always adopt," or "things happen for a reason", or the most painful from those who think they've got the goods on God's plan, "Maybe God never meant for you to have children." The sheer audacity of making a statement like that never fails to amaze me!

These same people would never walk up to someone seeking treatment for cancer and say, "Maybe God never meant for you to live." However, because I am infertile, I'm supposed to get on with my life? It's hard to understand that people can’t see infertility for what it is -- a disease for which I have to seek treatment. What if Jonas Salk had said to the parents of polio victims, "Maybe God meant for thousands of our children to be cripples, live in an iron lung or die.” What if he'd never tried to find a cure? Who could think for one minute that that was God's plan?

What do I think God meant when he gave me infertility?  I think he meant for my husband and I to grow closer, become stronger, love deeper. I think God meant for us to find the fortitude within ourselves to get back up every time infertility knocks us down. I think God meant for our medical community to discover medicines, invent medical equipment, and create procedures and protocols. I think God meant for us to find a cure for infertility.

No, God never meant for me not to have children. That's not my destiny; that's just a fork in the road I'm on. I've been placed on the road less traveled, and, like it or not, I'm a better person for it. Clearly, God meant for me to develop more compassion, deeper courage, and greater inner strength on this journey to resolution, and I hope I haven't let him down.

Frankly, if the truth be known, I think God has singled me out for special treatment. I think God meant for me to build a thirst for a child so strong and so deep that when that baby is finally placed in my arms, it will be the longest, coolest, most refreshing drink I've ever known. While I would never choose infertility for anyone, I can't deny that a more fertile woman could ever know the joy that awaits me.

Yes, one way or another, I will have a baby of my own. And the next time someone wants to offer me unsolicited advice I'll say, "Don't tell me what God meant when he handed me infertility. I already know..."

Written by: Anonymous


Learn more about Infertility, treatments, and insurance coverage at Resolve's website:
Learn more about our "Bust an Infertility Myth" Challenge, here at the LiWBC.

Friday, April 29, 2011

"Bust an Infertility Myth" - Today's Topic: Secondary Infertility & Parenting


Myth #1: Pregnancy and parenting resolves infertility.

Busted:
Had you attended my baby shower, witnessing my round belly
and mile-wide smile, surrounded by blue streamers, or had you
been at the hospital when my son was born healthy and pink and
screaming, I appeared as any expectant or new mother would
have. I talked about nursery patterns and breast pumps and
pregnancy symptoms as if it were second nature, as if it were just
something that happens for everyone, but I had a secret. I knew
it didn't happen for everyone, and I knew that well. That belly of
mine was hard-won. After many years of trying to conceive and
undergoing fertility treatment, I can thankfully say that my dream
of becoming a mother has been realized as I am the parent of a
beautiful toddler boy via IVF. Yes, from the outside looking in,
my infertility appears fully resolved, doesn't it? I won the prize,
my backyard is littered with toys and the family Christmas card is
complete with a kid. But, I ask you to look more closely, for the
fight for that prize has altered me in ways I will never be able to
describe.

Infertility was never an isolated event in my life, I know that
now. It was with me all that time, well beyond the first positive
pregnancy test, through my entire pregnancy. It was with me when
I sat shaking before every obstetrician's appointment, wondering if
that heartbeat might prove elusive. It was with me contemplating
how to return an already assembled crib or how to bring myself
to put another needle into my abdomen if my hard-won dream
suddenly slipped away again. It was with me as I pretended to
complain about morning sickness, but secretly delighted in it,
knowing it likely meant he might actually stay. And it is with me
today knowing that my son may never have a sibling.

Infertility is a thief for if you are lucky enough to finally be with
child, it is with a trepidation that leaves you at first whispering
your good news rather than shouting it from the rooftops as you

might have done years before it trampled your heart, leaving the
pregnancy journal empty for fear of jinxing your immense fortune.
As I walked around with my full belly, growing with life, I would
find isolated moments when I would feel like a fraud, as if I had
tricked the general public into thinking that I was like any other.
But I wasn't. And quite frankly, I still don't feel that I am.

You see, infertility taught me to expect the fall because after
months and years of tests and doctors visits and hormones and
needles and even after all that, "I'm sorry, you're not pregnant",
and living in a medical existence as a patient and not just expecting
the bottom to fall out, but actually seeing it happen time and time
again, infertility has become an echo that has colored everything.

I know intellectually that being infertile was never a reflection
of who I am or what I deserve, but it still shook the core of how
I feel about my body, my femininity, myself, beyond conception
and pregnancy. When I was overdue with my son and eventually
induced, I silently blamed this on my body being 'too stupid' to
know what to do. When I struggled to breastfeed and after many,
many lactation consultants eventually had to plead defeat and
go the way of formula, it felt like another cruel blow made by
infertility. It was the failure of my body to do what should have
been innate, what every other woman around me seemed to be
doing with ease. And now, after almost a year-and-a-half after
my son's birth, our savings have been depleted and I am faced
with a small slice of time during which assisted reproduction will
work. But because of money, I may not get the chance to add to
my family again. My choices are depleting with every day that
passes. I still resent the control it has over my life. Infertility never
seems to leave my doorstep.

Even participating in something as benign as a Mother's group, I
look around and wonder, are you one of us? Have you been in the
trenches I know so well? Do any of you know the sting of failure
month-after-month? The burn of a one-inch needle in your flesh

driven by your husband night-after-night? Do any of you still
cringe inside when you hear pregnancy announcements, even after
having your own child? My questions are often answered quickly
as talk of having a second or a third is passed around haphazardly,
and I know that someone even close to my shoes wouldn't discuss
it in this way. I still search for my IF sisters, knowing that at the
end of the day, only they will not be driven away by my innermost
thoughts, the wounds that still lay open.

But for all the bad it has given me, infertility has matched it
with good. I know it seems unlikely with everything I mentioned
above, but I have found surprising resources inside myself I
otherwise would have never been aware of: resilience, persistence,
empathy, sisterhood, gratitude. A chance to know what I was
capable of. A chance to stand beside others and fight. A chance to
experience a feeling beyond grateful, beyond blessed. Infertility
has literally changed the lens of how I see the world, for better, for
worse. For both. And well beyond conception and parenthood.
Make no mistake. Even after claiming my 'prize', infertility is
something that will always be a part of who I am, in my heart, in
every breath I take, and when I hold my child, no matter how far
I "appear" to walk away from it.

Written: by Christina from California
Visit her blog: The Great Big IF



Myth #2: Infertile people are unaware of the stresses of parenting.  Or, offer your infertile friend YOUR baby.  It will make her feel better.

Busted:
Recently, we spent a day with my husband's family.  There are two new babies in the family since we saw everyone last while we continue to struggle with infertility.  I fought hard on going to visit everyone because I knew it would hurt to be around new babies, but at my mother-in-law's insistence, I had to give in.

Within seconds of walking in the door, I found the 8 month old in my arms, playing happily with my necklace.  I smiled as politely as possible, trying to numb myself to the feel of having a baby that I’ll never have in my arms, while everyone looked on with baited breath.  “Look, she’s holding a baby.  Let’s see if this cheers her up.”  I looked around desperately for my husband and saw him across the room, sitting in a chair holding the tiny 7 week old baby in his big arms.  My in-laws smiled to see this and snapped dozens of pictures, as if they needed to record the moment my husband got to hold a newborn baby, since they won’t have pictures of him holding his own some day.

Of course I smiled and enjoyed my beautiful niece for as long as I could take it, then handed her off to the closest person, and ran to the garage to let the tears fall.  I know no one meant to hurt me, but I felt instant anger over the situation - why did everyone want to sit around and watch the infertiles hold the babies?

For a full day I tried to avoid both babies for fear of another breakdown, but my husband was handed the infant repeatedly.  My heart has never ached more than watching him coo at a sweet newborn baby and know I can never give him that gift.  I spent a lot of time alone in the garage that day.

As an infertile woman still struggling with never seeing a positive pregnancy test, a first ultrasound photo, my child the day he/she is born, I feel like screaming at the world that holding someone else’s baby does not ease my pain.  It only serves as a reminder that I can hold a baby for the moment, but I might never take one home with me that I can hold onto forever.  It only brings up feelings of anger and jealousy.  It only makes me question why I can take care of my body so well and others who don’t can achieve the miracle of conception and childbirth.  I avoid pregnant women and new mothers like the plague because I can't bear to hear stories of pregnancy symptoms or what their baby did that day.  It doesn't help to know that childbirth hurts or babies drool a lot because I would (and have) sacrificed a lot for the chance to gladly suffer miserable pain or be drenched in slobber.  Being constantly reminded of the joys and trials of motherhood by others does not ease the pain of being an infertile woman.  It reminds me that I'm a failure.

Written by: Rachel from Texas


What RESOLVE has to say about "Infertility Etiquette":

Chances are, you know someone who is struggling with infertility. More than seven million people of childbearing age in the United States experience infertility. Yet, as a society, we are woefully uninformed about how to best provide emotional support for our loved ones during this painful time.

Infertility is, indeed, a very painful struggle. The pain is similar to the grief over losing a loved one, but it is unique because it is a recurring grief. When a loved one dies, he isn't coming back. There is no hope that he will come back from the dead. You must work through the stages of grief, accept that you will never see this person again, and move on with your life.

The grief of infertility is not so cut and dry. Infertile people grieve the loss of the baby that they may never know. They grieve the loss of that baby who would have had mommy's nose and daddy's eyes. But, each month, there is the hope that maybe that baby will be conceived after all. No matter how hard they try to prepare themselves for bad news, they still hope that this month will be different. Then, the bad news comes again, and the grief washes over the infertile couple anew. This process happens month after month, year after year. It is like having a deep cut that keeps getting opened right when it starts to heal.

As the couple moves into infertility treatments, the pain increases while the bank account depletes. The tests are invasive and embarrassing to both parties, and you feel like the doctor has taken over your bedroom. And for all of this discomfort, you pay a lot of money.

A couple will eventually resolve the infertility problem in one of three ways:
  • They will eventually conceive a baby.
  • They will stop the infertility treatments and choose to live without children.
  • They will find an alternative way to parent, such as by adopting a child or becoming a foster parent.

Reaching a resolution can take years, so your infertile loved ones need your emotional support during this journey. Most people don't know what to say, so they wind up saying the wrong thing, which only makes the journey so much harder for their loved ones. Knowing what not to say is half of the battle to providing support.

Don't Tell Them to Relax

Everyone knows someone who had trouble conceiving but then finally became pregnant once she "relaxed." Couples who are able to conceive after a few months of "relaxing" are not infertile. By definition, a couple is not diagnosed as "infertile" until they have tried unsuccessfully to become pregnant for a full year. In fact, most infertility specialists will not treat a couple for infertility until they have tried to become pregnant for a year. This year weeds out the people who aren't infertile but just need to "relax." Those that remain are truly infertile.

Comments such as "just relax" or "try going on a cruise" create even more stress for the infertile couple, particularly the woman. The woman feels like she is doing something wrong when, in fact, there is a good chance that there is a physical problem preventing her from becoming pregnant.

These comments can also reach the point of absurdity. As a couple, my husband and I underwent two surgeries, numerous inseminations, hormone treatments, and four years of poking and prodding by doctors. Yet, people still continued to say things like, "If you just relaxed on a cruise . . ." Infertility is a diagnosable medical problem that must be treated by a doctor, and even with treatment, many couples will NEVER successfully conceive a child. Relaxation itself does not cure medical infertility.

Don't Minimize the Problem

Failure to conceive a baby is a very painful journey. Infertile couples are surrounded by families with children. These couples watch their friends give birth to two or three children, and they watch those children grow while the couple goes home to the silence of an empty house. These couples see all of the joy that a child brings into someone's life, and they feel the emptiness of not being able to experience the same joy.

Comments like, "Just enjoy being able to sleep late . . . .travel . . etc.," do not offer comfort. Instead, these comments make infertile people feel like you are minimizing their pain. You wouldn't tell somebody whose parent just died to be thankful that he no longer has to buy Father's Day or Mother's Day cards. Losing that one obligation doesn't even begin to compensate for the incredible loss of losing a parent. In the same vein, being able to sleep late or travel does not provide comfort to somebody who desperately wants a child.

Don't Say There Are Worse Things That Could Happen

Along the same lines, don't tell your friend that there are worse things that she could be going through. Who is the final authority on what is the "worst" thing that could happen to someone? Is it going through a divorce? Watching a loved one die? Getting raped? Losing a job?

Different people react to different life experiences in different ways. To someone who has trained his whole life for the Olympics, the "worst" thing might be experiencing an injury the week before the event. To someone who has walked away from her career to become a stay-at-home wife for 40 years, watching her husband leave her for a younger woman might be the "worst" thing. And, to a woman whose sole goal in life has been to love and nurture a child, infertility may indeed be the "worst" thing that could happen.

People wouldn't dream of telling someone whose parent just died, "It could be worse: both of your parents could be dead." Such a comment would be considered cruel rather than comforting. In the same vein, don't tell your friend that she could be going through worse things than infertility.

Don't Say They Aren't Meant to Be Parents

One of the cruelest things anyone ever said to me is, "Maybe God doesn't intend for you to be a mother." How incredibly insensitive to imply that I would be such a bad mother that God felt the need to divinely sterilize me. If God were in the business of divinely sterilizing women, don't you think he would prevent the pregnancies that end in abortions? Or wouldn't he sterilize the women who wind up neglecting and abusing their children? Even if you aren't religious, the "maybe it's not meant to be" comments are not comforting. Infertility is a medical condition, not a punishment from God or Mother Nature.

Don't Ask Why They Aren't Trying IVF

In vitro fertilization (IVF) is a method in which the woman harvests multiple eggs, which are then combined with the man's sperm in a petri dish. This is the method that can produce multiple births. People frequently ask, "Why don't you just try IVF?" in the same casual tone they would use to ask, "Why don't you try shopping at another store?"

Don't Be Crude

It is appalling that I even have to include this paragraph, but some of you need to hear this-Don't make crude jokes about your friend's vulnerable position. Crude comments like "I'll donate the sperm" or "Make sure the doctor uses your sperm for the insemination" are not funny, and they only irritate your friends.

Don't Complain About Your Pregnancy

This message is for pregnant women-Just being around you is painful for your infertile friends. Seeing your belly grow is a constant reminder of what your infertile friend cannot have. Unless an infertile women plans to spend her life in a cave, she has to find a way to interact with pregnant women. However, there are things you can do as her friend to make it easier.

The number one rule is DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT YOUR PREGNANCY. I understand from my friends that, when you are pregnant, your hormones are going crazy and you experience a lot of discomfort, such as queasiness, stretch marks, and fatigue. You have every right to vent about the discomforts to any one else in your life, but don't put your infertile friend in the position of comforting you.

Your infertile friend would give anything to experience the discomforts you are enduring because those discomforts come from a baby growing inside of you. When I heard a pregnant woman complain about morning sickness, I would think, "I'd gladly throw up for nine straight months if it meant I could have a baby." When a pregnant woman would complain about her weight gain, I would think, "I would cut off my arm if I could be in your shoes."

I managed to go to baby showers and hospitals to welcome my friends' new babies, but it was hard. Without exception, it was hard. Stay sensitive to your infertile friend's emotions, and give her the leeway that she needs to be happy for you while she cries for herself. If she can't bring herself to hold your new baby, give her time. She isn't rejecting you or your new baby; she is just trying to work her way through her pain to show sincere joy for you. The fact that she is willing to endure such pain in order to celebrate your new baby with you speaks volumes about how much your friendship means to her.

Don't Treat Them Like They Are Ignorant

For some reason, some people seem to think that infertility causes a person to become unrealistic about the responsibilities of parenthood. I don't follow the logic, but several people told me that I wouldn't ache for a baby so much if I appreciated how much responsibility was involved in parenting.

Let's face it-no one can fully appreciate the responsibilities involved in parenting until they are, themselves, parents. That is true whether you successfully conceived after one month or after 10 years. The length of time you spend waiting for that baby does not factor in to your appreciation of responsibility. If anything, people who have been trying to become pregnant longer have had more time to think about those responsibilities. They have also probably been around lots of babies as their friends started their families.

Perhaps part of what fuels this perception is that infertile couples have a longer time to "dream" about what being a parent will be like. Like every other couple, we have our fantasies-my child will sleep through the night, would never have a tantrum in public, and will always eat his vegetables. Let us have our fantasies. Those fantasies are some of the few parent-to-be perks that we have-let us have them. You can give us your knowing looks when we discover the truth later.

Don't Gossip About Your Friend's Condition

Infertility treatments are very private and embarrassing, which is why many couples choose to undergo these treatments in secret. Men especially are very sensitive to letting people know about infertility testing, such as sperm counts. Gossiping about infertility is not usually done in a malicious manner. The gossipers are usually well-meaning people who are only trying to find out more about infertility so they can help their loved ones.

Regardless of why you are sharing this information with someone else, it hurts and embarrasses your friend to find out that Madge the bank teller knows what your husband's sperm count is and when your next period is expected. Infertility is something that should be kept as private as your friend wants to keep it. Respect your friend's privacy, and don't share any information that your friend hasn't authorized.

Don't Push Adoption

Adoption is a wonderful way for infertile people to become parents. (As an adoptive parent, I can fully vouch for this!!) However, the couple needs to work through many issues before they will be ready to make an adoption decision. Before they can make the decision to love a "stranger's baby," they must first grieve the loss of that baby with Daddy's eyes and Mommy's nose. Adoption social workers recognize the importance of the grieving process. When my husband and I went for our initial adoption interview, we expected the first question to be, "Why do you want to adopt a baby?" Instead, the question was, "Have you grieved the loss of your biological child yet?" Our social worker emphasized how important it is to shut one door before you open another.

You do, indeed, need to grieve this loss before you are ready to start the adoption process. The adoption process is very long and expensive, and it is not an easy road. So, the couple needs to be very sure that they can let go of the hope of a biological child and that they can love an adopted baby. This takes time, and some couples are never able to reach this point. If your friend cannot love a baby that isn't her "own," then adoption isn't the right decision for her, and it is certainly not what is best for the baby.

Mentioning adoption in passing can be a comfort to some couples. (The only words that ever offered me comfort were from my sister, who said, "Whether through pregnancy or adoption, you will be a mother one day.") However, "pushing" the issue can frustrate your friend. So, mention the idea in passing if it seems appropriate, and then drop it. When your friend is ready to talk about adoption, she will raise the issue herself.

So, what can you say to your infertile friends? Unless you say "I am giving you this baby," there is nothing you can say that will erase their pain. So, take that pressure off of yourself. It isn't your job to erase their pain, but there is a lot you can do to lesson the load. Here are a few ideas.

Let Them Know That You Care

The best thing you can do is let your infertile friends know that you care. Send them cards. Let them cry on your shoulder. If they are religious, let them know you are praying for them. Offer the same support you would offer a friend who has lost a loved one. Just knowing they can count on you to be there for them lightens the load and lets them know that they aren't going through this alone.

Remember Them on Mother's Day

With all of the activity on Mother's Day, people tend to forget about women who cannot become mothers. Mother's Day is an incredibly painful time for infertile women. You cannot get away from it-There are ads on the TV, posters at the stores, church sermons devoted to celebrating motherhood, and all of the plans for celebrating with your own mother and mother-in-law.

Mother's Day is an important celebration and one that I relish now that I am a mother. However, it was very painful while I was waiting for my baby. Remember your infertile friends on Mother's Day, and send them a card to let them know you are thinking of them. They will appreciate knowing that you haven't "forgotten" them.

Support Their Decision to Stop Treatments

No couple can endure infertility treatments forever. At some point, they will stop. This is an agonizing decision to make, and it involves even more grief. Even if the couple chooses to adopt a baby, they must still first grieve the loss of that baby who would have had mommy's nose and daddy's eyes.

Once the couple has made the decision to stop treatments, support their decision. Don't encourage them to try again, and don't discourage them from adopting, if that is their choice. Once the couple has reached resolution (whether to live without children, adopt a child, or become foster parents), they can finally put that chapter of their lives behind them. Don't try to open that chapter again.

This article comes directly from RESOLVE, The National Infertility Association.


Learn more about Infertility, treatments, and insurance coverage at Resolve's website:
Learn more about our "Bust an Infertility Myth" Challenge, here at the LiWBC.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

May Book Winners!

The votes were very close again, but this month we had clear winners. And the winners are...
Non-infertility related:
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
This classic story of the March family women and their lives in New England during the Civil War has remained enduringly popular since its publication in 1868. Poor, argumentative, loving, and optimistic, the March sisters struggle to supplement their family's meager income and realize their own dreams. This highly autobiographical novel shows us women who are strong-minded and independent in their determination to control their own destiny. The introduction to this edition provides a fascinating history of the Alcotts, and a biographical history of Louisa Alcott's own struggles as a writer.
Top 5 Winners in the non-infertility related category (percentages will not add up to 100% because voters were able to select more than one choice):
  • Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (42%)
  • The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett (31%)
  • Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand (31%)
  • The Tiger's Wife by Tea Obreht (31%)
  • Major Pettigrew's Last Stand (28%)
Infertility related:
Good Eggs by Phoebe Potts
Review from Publisher's Weekly:
First-time graphic novel creator Potts offers readers a sprawling and lovable memoir about her and her husband's attempts to become parents. Documenting travails with insurance companies, doctors, family members, and her own body, she shows us the down and dirty details with warmth and humor. While the quest for parenthood structures the book, Potts makes plenty of detours into her past with tales of organizing uncooperative union workers in Texas; learning Spanish and trying her darndest to mix with workers in Mexico; experiencing paralyzing depression back at her parents' home in Martha's Vineyard. Potts also writes about her discovery and exploration of her faith. At one point, considering becoming a rabbi, she visits several rabbis; the encounters are funny and poignant and help her along the path of figuring out what truly matters to her. The loopy minutiae of her drawings, in which bodily functions are helpfully anthropomorphized, household pets project personalities as strong as those of the humans around them, and characters crowd the pages in a friendly cacophony of stories, is equally absorbing. Good Eggs joins other graphic novel memoirs about women's lives, like Persepolis and Carol Tyler's You'll Never Know; a wonderfully told and deeply human story.
Top 5 Winners in the infertility related category (percentages will not add up to 100% because voters were able to select more than one choice):
  • Good Eggs by Phoebe Potts (47%)
  • Sing You Home by Jodi Picoult (43%)
  • Conception Chronicles by Patty Doyle Dobano (33%)
  • Conquering Infertility by Dr. Alice Domar (19%)
  • Good People by Marcus Sakey (17%)
Grab your copies and start reading as discussions will start the first week of May! Good Eggs is now available in our store under Infertility Memoirs. Little Women will be available as well very soon. If you will be purchasing your book online anyway and would like to support the LiWBC, buy it through our store. Check out our new journal section of the bookstore as well!

"Bust an Infertility Myth" - Today's Topics: Treatment & Insurance Coverage

Photo courtesy of Monica Wiesblott.
For Every Pain
Archival Photograph

Myth #1: If you do IVF, you are guaranteed a baby.

Busted:
I'm almost ashamed to admit this, but back in 2006 when my husband and I first learned that we would need IVF to conceive a child, I believed this myth.  I didn't know much about Artificial Reproductive Techonolgy (ART) or any of the components to it.  I only knew what I had heard through others...and what my family had been through.  I mean, my Aunt used Clomid and got pregnant and had TRIPLETS.  So, since IVF was more advanced that just popping a pill, it HAD to work, right?

I learned the hard lesson in 2007.  We started our IVF journey in March...I dutifully followed my protocol.  And when I say dutifully, I mean with military precision.  I made sure I took my birth control and Lupron shots at the same time every night to get me through the suppression period.  When it came time to stimulate my ovaries, I took those injections the same way.  Military precision.  Hands washed, everything laid out before me, clean the area well, inject.  Twice a day I did this.  Even now, almost 4 years later, I can tell you EXACTLY what I was doing.  I mean, this was going to work.  We were getting a baby out of this, weren't we?

My egg retrieval was on April 26, 2007.  It went well overall.  I wasn't in any pain afterwards...and they got 23 eggs!  23!!  23 chances for a baby!  How can IVF NOT work with 23 chances??!!  Zero fertilization... that's how.  My day 1 fertilization report came in on April 27th.  So far, no eggs had started to divide.  They had performed ICSI (Intracytoplasmic sperm injection) on 16 mature eggs.  We had no embryos.  Transfer was canceled.

I was devastated.  I was not prepared for this outcome.  I hadn't even had one thought that IVF wouldn't work for us.  No one had ever said to me that there was a possibility that this wouldn't work...or if they did...I just shrugged it off.  All those painful shots...all those hormones I pumped into my body...all those ultraounds, trips to the office for blood work...all for nothing.  I walked out of the doctor's' office on May 16, 2007, after my follow up, empty and heartbroken.  It would be a full year before I was emotionally ready to start again.  To try again. To hope again. 

Written by: Amy from Illinois
Visit her blog:  Just a Mere IVF

Photo courtesy of Monica Wiesblott.
Basketful
Archival Photograph

Myth #2: IVF (or IUI) should not be covered by insurance because its a lot like cosmetic surgery.  Unnecessary.

Busted:
This is a very real myth that astounds me to this moment because for me, it means the person who says this has never looked into what items ARE covered by most insurance.

Let’s go down the arguments against covering IVF (In Vitro Fertilization):
  • “It’s expensive.”  It is cheaper than most (covered) surgeries such as joint replacement surgery ($35,000) or gastric bypass ($17,000 to $30,000). It IS expensive for an individual to pay out of pocket. But compared to similar procedures, it is not. It is the fact that insurance does not cover it that makes people lament the cost. If knee surgery was not covered, believe me, people would be crying even louder over that cost!
  • “It’s not necessary or life-threatening like cancer or heart disease.” Correct. But let’s see you take off ALL non-life threatening procedures from an insurance plan and we’ll see if everyone agrees with that argument. A person can live without a prosthetic limb. A person can live with a busted nose. A person can live with a terrible burn scar. A person can live without seeing or hearing. A woman with a mastectomy due to breast cancer can live without a prosthetic or new breast.  But all surgeries relating to correcting these issues ARE COVERED by most insurance plans; and in the breast cancer instance, they are *federally mandated* to be covered. 
  • “I should not have to pay into an insurance system that covers something I’ll never need.” You mean like testicular or prostate cancer checks? Mammograms? Or maybe Obstetrics costs for pregnancy, infant, and child care? How about Erectile Dysfunction? Birth Control devices and prescriptions? Not everyone blows out a knee or gets hit in the face with a softball. Not everyone gets Cancer. Not everyone has diabetes.
  • “If we offered it, no one would use it and insurance would penalize us.” AND “Most companies in our industry and of our size do not cover this, so why should we?” Actual excuses given to me by my HR department. Not based on any facts because, of course, few companies have statistics on actual percentages of claims when few companies even offer the coverage. Talk about a Catch-22. These excuses could be easily applied to any procedure covered or not covered by insurance. It’s a form-letter statement translating to “no” or “make me”.
  • “IVF is too controversial because it kills embryos. We don’t cover abortion either.” This one, I’ve heard from infertile and fertile alike. None of which ever visited a reproductive endocrinologist (RE) to determine the validity. I have. When I went through my IVF course, which is required, I was given many legal forms. These forms covered several “what if” scenarios that anyone concerned about any ethical decisions would be able to clarify. For example, how many eggs will be fertilized? One? Two? Or as many as you can get? How many embryos will you transfer? Most clinics have a maximum (some maximums are imposed federally or statutorily), but the individual can always lower that amount. What will you do with the remaining embryos? You can save them for later, you can donate them to another couple, you can donate them to science (in some states, donation is illegal), you can throw them away. In the end, one could argue that creating an embryo outside the body is less safe and will kill the embryo more often than if the embryo was in a woman’s body. For this reason, most REs will suggest an IUI (Intrauterine Insemination) before IVF.  Most people move on to IVF once it has been discovered that there is a near zero chance that their body will naturally (or via IUI) be able to convey an egg through fallopian tubes, get it fertilized AND placed in the uterus safely. Blocked (or no) tubes, poor natural fertilization rates, or very low sperm counts vastly reduce the likelihood of success with IUI or pharmaceuticals alone.  IVF is the only way most couples pursuing IVF can get pregnant. That child would never exist without IVF. IVF’s primary goal is to create life - not destroy it.
  • “You will be an Octomom if you do IVF.” How much damage can one silly woman and one corrupt doctor do? That there is the evidence. If one dentist is negligent and pulls out all of a person’s teeth, does that make all dentists corrupt and will you never get your teeth cleaned again? If a surgeon takes off the wrong limb, does that make all surgeons incompetent and dangerous? If one “doctor” kills live-born babies and conspires with the mothers to make the deaths appear to be miscarriages or earlier term abortions, does that make all OB/Gyns unethical and baby-killers too? See the above paragraph about the way *normal, ethical* doctors behave. Those are the majority of reproductive endocrinologists. The decision on the number of embryos to transfer should be based on the combined, educated, ethical opinion of the doctor and of the patient. Every clinic must publish statistics to the Center for Disease Control on IVF rates. The RE would not want to transfer too many because often, multiple births miscarry and that will reflect negatively on the clinic’s statistics. Most REs will say their goal is ONE live birth. Twins, when transferring 2 embryos, are an obvious possibility and the RE will weigh your ability to carry twins to term before risking that. The same goes for triplets - if three embryo transfers are allowed by either insurance or federal/state laws. All of that being said, the RE will likely still calculate the probability (no matter how minute) of any embryos splitting and causing a higher-order multiple. All of this is done before eggs are fertilized and usually the RE will recalculate your chances before transfer, based on your embryonic fertilization and growth rates. Up until that very moment before transfer, you are given the option to reduce the number of embryos transferred and save the others for either another transfer or donation. The Octomom and her doctor obviously never practiced this level of checks. 
Written by: Stephanie from Arizona (editor, Ladies in Waiting Book Club)

Photo courtesy of Monica Wiesblott.
It Had Manifested
Photopolymer Etching

Myth #3: Infertility shouldn't be covered by insurance because it isn't a real disease.

Myth:
In my 4 year struggle with infertility, I have been lucky in the last year to actually have some coverage. During the first 3 years, I was under UPMC insurance (based in Pittsburgh, PA) that covered very little. I was able to do 2 rounds/cycles of clomid but had to call it quits when my reproductive endocrinologist (RE) wanted to move to IUI. And according to UPMC, my meds weren't covered, nor procedure, nor any blood work or ultrasound. (Meaning everything would be coded under the diagonis of infertility with IUI as coding).
I had to wait until 2010 to finally get my saving grace. My husband got a job with a company who was headquartered in NY, but moving to Pittsburgh. I was filling out his new hire paperwork, when I discovered that infertility was covered under it. Yay me!  I couldn't believe my luck. I canceled my UPMC coverage and immediately got on his. I had a consultation with my RE and told him I would be doing the IUI treatment. I had to speak with the billing department just to make sure that it was covered. They told me they would call the insurance company to ensure it was. I waited about 2 weeks and no one ever called. I finally called my the clinic's nurses line and left a message. I received a call that same day from somebody in billing who took care of the situation right away. I can't believe I had to call the nurses line to do it.
For almost 4 months, I went back and forth with UPMC and Excellus, because I was unable to get my medication due to non coverage under UPMC. Freedom Fertility (where I got my meds) still showed UPMC being my primary coverage and Excellus my secondary. Um... NO!  I got rid of UPMC and was solely on Excellus.  After much aggravation and a lot of tears shed between the phone calls of "I'm sorry ma'am, but your insurance claim is coming up declined and it will be $5,000 for just the Menopur. Which card would you like to use?" What card?!  I can't afford that. After several more calls, it was all worked out and I finally got "Your co-pay is $77 and which card would you like that to go on?" I was happy, but couldn't start treatment until December. That cycle ended in cysts and no pregnancy. It also ended with a $500 bill Excellus wouldn't pay until getting medical records from my RE. It took about 4 months to get that straightened out before it went into collections.
Then as of January 1, 2011 my DH's company became solely based out of Pennsylvania, but insurance coverage would remain the same under Highmark. My DH looked and infertility was not covered. He contacted HR and the problem was resolved immediately. Now, I have a $10,000 lifetime benefit. Great right? Nope, I called to asked about the medications and was told it was part of my $10,000. WTF!  $5,000 would already be gone thanks to a single medication, Menopur. Luckily, I ordered another round of meds prior to end of Excellus insurance. Smart thinking on my part.
I did another round in Feb, but that too ended in cysts and unforeseen medical bills. I had about $1,000 of medical bills awaiting collections if unpaid. Again, my insurance covered all procedures except IVF. The problem with Highmark was infertility coverage was an add-on. It isn't a benefit on any insurance policy here in PA. So their system showed my coverage, but it was unable to process the claim. I called UPMC to tell them this, but they told me Highmark would need to call them. UPMC put a 30 day hold on it and it was paid about a week ago by Highmark.

I had to go back and forth with both parties for a month on all issues regarding coverage and billing. The biggest issue was medication. When I called the first time (Highmark woman) said would be part of $10,000 benefit. The second time (Highmark man) said no meds are part of Rx benefits and have nothing to do with your $10,000 benefit. Meaning they can't code medications under infertility diagnosis. It is just medication.  He went through all my medications and all of them were covered with around a $70 co-pay for everything.
Insurance companies need to cover infertility because it is a disease. It is not something that we asked for but something that happened to us. How do they justify gastric bypass? That person ate too much. How do you justify plastic or laser surgery? You can't. We (infertiles) all want a child and it is our right to have one. It wasn't a choice. It chose us. I didn't choose to be poked and prodded or to spend my evenings in a bathroom injecting myself like an addict only to have a negative result each time.
The thing that upsets me the most about insurance is the lack of knowledge from the customer service and unwillingness to help. If you are lucky to have coverage you have to know everything inside and out of coverage. I had to look up everything and be armed with information prior to calling. Insurance is no help at all. You have to do most of the leg work on your own and hope for the best. I understand first hand how difficult it is to deal with the billing/coding of procedures and be told "NO, your claim is denied". Insurance companies need to help us "ladies in waiting" when we call because we are usually an emotional wreck and just need answers. Train your employees and it would do a world of wonder for you and us.

Written by: Melissa in Pennsylvania


Learn more about Infertility, treatments, and insurance coverage at Resolve's website:
Learn more about our "Bust an Infertility Myth" Challenge, here at the LiWBC.


Wednesday, April 27, 2011

"Bust an Infertility Myth" - Today's Topic Part 2: Male Perspective of Infertility

Photo courtesy of Monica Wiesblott.
It Sang With Yearning and Sadness
Photopolymer Etching

Myth: "I'm a man.  I don't need to get checked!" 
(male factor infertility)

Busted:
I'm guilty of perpetuating an infertility myth, so please allow me to attempt to clear my conscience. I'll admit that when my wife suggested I have a sperm test, I figured I'd do it to make her happy, but everyone knew it was her issue. She had a long history of cysts on her ovaries and she'd even had a laparoscopy in an effort to clear up the issue. Of course it was her issue, right? After all - me strong man. Me make baby. 

About a year into our four year battle with infertility, I discovered that I needed to talk to someone about what was going on, except there really wasn't anyone to talk to. What man talks to another man about sperm count? So I poured the story out onto my computer screen to reap the cathartic benefits of simply having it off my shoulders. By the end of the story, I looked up and realized it had turned into something resembling a manuscript. Below, I give to you the first chapter, wherein we received the results of my sperm test, and thus addressing the myth that "I'm a man, I don't need to get checked."
Dr. Granderson drew a circle.  This was no run-of-the-mill sphere.  It was compass quality.  Clearly, he’d done this before.
“Okay, imagine this is the egg,” he said.
If he draws a penis, I’m going to giggle like a little girl.
Flanked by a reproduction antique roll-top desk that was compulsively organized with brochures and writing tablets, Granderson sat no more than a couple feet across from the puffy pink-and-white striped couch in which we were currently submerged.  He slid his specs up his nose with a middle finger and clicked his mechanical pencil twice with a determination that suggested he was just getting warmed up.
“Now, these are sperm,” he said.
Methodically, Granderson sketched three rugby ball objects with tails.  One boasted a terrifically large head, another resembled a typical pin-head, and the last appeared to possess a perfectly proportioned oval with a flawless squiggly little accessory.
Why do I already hate that last one?
He fixated on us, eyes slightly above the frame of his glasses, and paused.
Kiersten shifted nervously on the couch.
Granderson had a kind, concerned face and a gentle demeanor, and struck me as a lifelong glass-half-full kind of guy.  His expression reminded me of a man facing a challenge he’d seen before and rather enjoyed—like when my Dad used to look at the stalled engine of my 1976 Toyota Corolla, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.  Lips pursed, half smiling, half frowning—kind of a pleasurable grimace.
“Imagine that the sperm are boats and they’re docking… they’re docking at the egg,” he said.
Is my wife wearing her “I’m with stupid” shirt again?
“They need to be the perfect size to dock—to get inside,” he continued.  “The one with the larger head is too big; the one with the smaller head is too tiny.  Only the perfectly shaped one can gain entry to the egg.”
Oh, GodI’ve got big-headed sperm, don’t I?  What if they’re the little-headed ones?  What the hell does that mean?
The art lesson continued, Granderson’s pencil furiously scribbling vertical lines and circular orbits.
“Some sperm are slow, some swim in random directions, and others don’t move much at all,” he posited, pencil mimicking the narrative.  He lashed several lines violently across the paper, towards our imaginary dock. “Then there are sperm that are strong swimmers—these are the ones we want.” The pencil tapped intently on his masterpiece for emphasis, like a woodpecker high on crack.
I’ve got big-headed, slow-swimming idiot sperm, don’t I?  Just say it. Oh, God I need water.  No, I need a drink.  A strong drink.
“Now, Michael—bear with me.  There’s good news and there’s not-so-good news.”
Where’s the waitress?  Makers Mark and rocks, pleasepronto.
“Let’s talk about sperm count.”
More Makers, less rocks…
“You’re at about 23 million sperm per millimeter…”
23 mil?  It’s a deep drive to right field, he goes back, a waaaay back…
“…and a normal sperm count is anywhere between 20 million and about 150 million per millimeter.”
Foul ball.  That can’t be the good news.
“So we’re doing just fine there.”
Kill me.
“Your sperm movement, what we call motility, could be better.  You see, sperm must be able to rapidly navigate through the cervical mucous in order to reach the egg.”
Is it absolutely necessary to say mucous?  Can’t we just call it ‘stuff’?
“Your sperm have a low rate of rapid movement and some sperm do not navigate well.”
“Can you be a little more specific?” I asked.  “What do you mean, they don’t navigate well?”
“Well, many swim aimlessly or in circles.”
I caught Kiersten glancing at me.  She knew we were going to the brewery after this.  She had to know.
“Now, your sperm morphology…” continued Granderson.
Oh, for the love of God… morpho-what?
“…could be better as well.  You demonstrate a low percentage of normal sperm shape and structure.”
I dare you to pick up that pencil and draw me a picture.  I double dog dare you.
Kiersten started asking questions.  I think they were something along the lines of ‘Could we ever get pregnant on our own?’ and ‘Can his sperm be improved?’ and ‘Is my husband a pathetic, feeble little cretin and do you have any handsome virile sons you could introduce me to?’  But frankly, I couldn’t even hear… Their conversation had been reduced to inaudible static, as if the frequency on my radio dial was fading out of range and I had my foot flooring the gas.
The room felt like it was slowly shrinking around me.
I stood to take off my coat and realized I was not on solid ground.  As if experiencing a sudden drop in blood pressure, I was hazy.  Cotton mouth.  Visibly sweating.  A pulse so fast, I could feel the vein in my neck throb like an unwelcome kick drum under my skin. I couldn’t even stomach the triple-tall-with-room Americano I had arrived with… a tragic waste of our last legal high.
I sat down and tried to look as casual as possible although I didn’t know if I was about to puke, pass out, or both. Nonchalantly stroking the four o’clock stubble on my chin with my left hand, I tried to look as if I was curiously following their conversation, but in reality I was trying to stave off what could only be some kind of anxiety attack.
I tried to go to a happy place in my spiraling skull.  A place where Imperial IPA is refilled by the waitress as if it were table water and double gin martinis are served complimentary with every entrée.  I was brought back by a squeeze on the knee and a disapproving glare suggesting I needed to be more attentive to the current conversation.
Ok…deep breaths.  Calm down… calm the hell down.
I was obsessively rubbing my damp hands on my thighs, rocking back and forth slightly, but noticeably.
Think…think…think…
This is your ticket to annual Vegas trips, to keeping up with your golf game, to turning the playroom into your own personal game room.  You’ve never really wanted a screaming, puking, crapping, drooling, keeping-me-up-at-night, preempting-the-ballgame-for-Teletubbies-and-the-freaking-Wiggles, stealing-my-wife’s-boobs, snot-nosed brat, did you?
I looked up to see Kiersten’s hopeful face.
I couldn’t deny that I wanted this.  If not for us, at least for her.  God, I love her.
“Uh…Granderson?  I missed the last couple seconds…Could you go over our options again?”
As he started to reiterate the unseemly choices we faced, I couldn’t help but wonder:
How the hell did I get here?
Written by: Michael Barr (author, Swimming in Circles)
Visit his blog: Swimming in Circles

Photo courtesy of Monica Wiesblott.
"I Tried Nesting" (detail)
Created with:
apricot branches, decomposed plants, hot glue, dryer lint,
artists hair, dead grass eggshells and pebbles

Myth #2: Men are immune to the emotional struggles of infertility.
(non infertile perspective)

Busted:
You can see it in her eyes, though she doesn’t know it’s there. It’s not desperation or sadness. It’s not anger, or resentment, or loss. It’s all those things, really. There’s a touch of hope and happiness, but just enough to curl her lips up into a smile, save for the tiny corners of her mouth. That’s the telling part; the part of her that’s afraid to be optimistic because years of single pink lines and cramping aches and locked-door breakdowns are just too much for her to let go and be completely free. If you know what you’re looking for, you’ll see it when she’s holding a friend’s baby, when a coworker announces her pregnancy, or as you navigate through store aisles of bulging bellies and squealing newborns. Years of dashed hopes can do a lot of damage to a fragile heart.

Nine years ago, when we started on this journey toward conception, I didn’t know what to expect. I can’t imagine anyone really does. Now that we’re in the throes of IVF treatment, I still hardly do. Admittedly, I’m not the one who researched the options, and I’m not the one undergoing the treatments. Until recently, my only involvement was an uncomfortable visit to a white-walled lab where I was led to a room and instructed “make sure the cap is tightly sealed when you’re done.” 

I wish it was me. I don’t know how to express how much I yearn to fix this. I could deal with being the problem, and I could deal with the decisions that would stem from that. What I find hardest to deal with is that look and not being able to do anything about it. It’s an image burned into my mind, and over time it’s changed me. It’s made me realize that I need to try harder to understand, but that I never truly will. As a man, I probably can’t. To the extent that I can, I try to.

Sometimes I wonder if she thinks I’m numb to it all. My demeanor is stoic about subjects more important than technology or chocolate, to be certain. I laugh and joke a lot, but when the discussion of infertility surfaces, I shut down. It’s not because I don’t want to talk (I rarely know what I should say) and it’s not that I don’t want to be supportive (I’m part of this too, right?). It’s the fact that I’m a man, her husband, and when there’s a problem that I can’t solve, it makes me angry. It makes me want to yell and hit things and throw something across the room. It probably sounds childish--I know it does--but I’m not apt to cry in most situations and being sad doesn’t come naturally to me. I know I can’t help by putting my fist through a wall, so I sit in silence and wish the problem away. I don’t know that my reaction is inherently masculine, but I know it’s genuine to me.

Call it a generalization but my belief is that men, in general, are grossly unaware of infertility. We may struggle with it first hand, or we may have close friends who share their stories with us, but the truth is we live in a society where sex becomes a goal in your teens and pregnancy is the enemy. This is, of course, uncannily discrepant to the millions of us for whom infertility stands in the way of starting or completing our families.

I want to offer one thing, a man’s view to a world too unaware: men share and experience infertility, and it’s not as taboo a subject as we’ve made it to be. I’m fortunate to have men in my life who genuinely care about our struggle. Their support is invaluable, and my hope is that we can continue to inspire other men to this foundational role.

To those of you, men and women alike, who are fighting infertility: as a man, while I may not not fully understand, please know that I want to; I vow to cheer for your victories, to feel your losses the best I can, and to love you for your journey.

Written by: Travis (husband to the Editor :o)


Learn more about Infertility at Resolve's website:
Learn more about our "Bust an Infertility Myth" Challenge, here at the LiWBC.
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