Tuesday, January 19, 2016

7 Things Not to Say to Someone Struggling with Infertility (and Alternatives)

At some point in our friendship, I've shared a conversation with every infertile woman I know about about things we wish people hadn't said to us. Benefit of the doubt given:  I really do think people have the best intentions when they (unintentionally) say agitating and hurtful things. So allow me to offer some examples of super crummy things that have been said and some lovely alternatives.


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1.  My friends struggled with infertility for ______ year(s) and finally tried ______ and now they have ______ kid(s). 

What is meant:  A sweet story of encouragement.


Alternative:  With medicine and adoption, it's really rare to find couples these days who aren't able to ever have children. I'm sorry your story is such a difficult one. I do think, one day, you'll get to be a parent.

Why it's better:  Your friend's story may be incredibly beautiful and touching... But it's not my story and it's not the story of the woman you're speaking with. Every infertility journey is unique and hearing that another couple achieved parenthood through ______ just reminds me that I haven't become a parent yet. Give encouragement for the journey, not the unforeseen result.


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2.  There's always adoption.

What is meant:  There are so many alternatives to biological brokenness. You'll be a parent one day, I'm sure.

Alternative:  ASK your friend if she would consider adoption and let the conversation go from there.

Why it's better:  Before this struggle, my husband and I wanted to adopt children. We wanted to have biological kids, gain a few (ahem) parenting skills and then adopt older children who most likely would not be chosen and remain in the system for their entire childhood.

Then, we went to an adoption event, wondering in our minds if this would become our only option, and suddenly that thought was heartbreaking. Why? What changed? I had to do a lot of soul-searching but I think I finally figured it out-- losing the biological option, the potential of holding a son in my arms who looks just like my husband, takes a grieving process. Does it lessen the amount an adopted child would be loved? Absolutely not. Does it discount the beauty and necessity for adoptions? Never. But adoption becoming the only option may not be an easy thing for every couple to accept. Ask how your friend feels about adoption, but be careful of suggesting it as an effortless alternative.


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3. Just Relax. 

What is meant:  It'll happen. Stay encouraged. Don't give up hope.

Alternative:  It'll happen. Stay encouraged. Don't give up hope.


Why it's better:  "Just relax" is in the form of advice. Advice = a solution = a really really simple solution, to be exact = you'd be foolish if you hadn't thought of it = if you're not relaxed, you must be stressed out = you're overreacting. I hear this phrase a lot. Like, a lot. So I really do believe people have the best intentions when saying it. (And if you've been a culprit speaker of this phrase-- it's ok!) But be mindful of turning the need to keep up hope into a quick-fix solution. Infertility is a medical issue. Doctors don't tell their patients to "relax" away their illnesses, so avoid the stated phrase and just remind your friend to keep going strong.


4. Oh, haha, I have so many children. Here, take one of mine!

What is meant:  Comic relief.

Alternative:  Just go old school and tell a joke or silly story or something. Or point your friend to this picture.   

Why it's better:  Thanks for the reminder that your uterus is an overflowing fountain of embryonic fruitfulness while mine resembles an airplane dropping a thousand bouncy balls over a minefield. Sorry, I don't want your kids. My hottie pa-tottie husband is gonna make much prettier ones anyway. :)


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5.  Pregnancy is awful. Let me tell you all the reasons why.

What is meant:  I'm having a hard time with my pregnancy and need to vent.

Alternative:  Don't.

Why it's better:  This won't read lovingly, but I mean this lovingly, I really do. If you're pregnancy is difficult, I. Just. Can't. Sympathize. I'm sorry, I really am. But I can't. Because at the end of the day, would you trade in your pregnancy and future child for instant relief from your symptoms? Probably not. So it's worth it in the end and I would gladly take whatever crumminess you're dealing with to finally (finally!) see two little pink lines on that (stupid :P) little test.

On the flip side, I don't think women dealing with infertility should get to use that as a excuse to ignore other people's pregnancies and children. Our job as good friends to is keep supporting others by engaging in their happiness with them and showing support in whatever ways we can, like taking a meal to someone who's just brought a baby home or listening to the silly thing their six month old did yesterday. Living life with other people on this earth is so essential and we can't allow infertility to keep us from that. The joys, we should share in. But please forgive us if we excuse ourselves from listening to complaints. To us-- we've give anything to be where you are.

If you really really need a vent session, talk to another pregnant friend or a mother. Or, just avoid it altogether. Complaining isn't exactly a becoming habit.


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6.  Psssh. Kids are a handful. Enjoy your life now while you can!

What is meant:  ...I don't know, actually... Really? Come on, now.

Alternative:  You know, when you do have children, you'll probably have less time for coffee dates so let's go grab a latte! I'll buy.

Why it's better:  Because you're buying me a latte, duh. :)


7. I totally know what you're going through. We tried for two months.

Two? I'm sorry... Did you just say two? As in, got pregnant on your second try?

What is meant:  I believe the goal here is to cheer up somebody and let them know you understand. The problem is...

Alternative:  You don't know what it's like until you've actually been through it. And you don't have to pretend to!

Why it's better:  You don't need to understand everything I'm feeling. That's ok, really. If you try to compare my situation with another that doesn't really match, it downplays all the pain and struggle I've gone through. My husband and I haven't entered the world of IUI or IVF just yet-- we've completed all our testing and are still just taking fertility drugs. So I won't tell a woman whose undergone those procedures that I know what it's like because I don't. That's a new world with new hardships of its own. Our stories are different and that's alright. Instead, just listen. This is undeniably helpful. Listen to what your friend is feeling, dealing with, and thinking. Let your encouragement spring from that and just be there.

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Bonus:  If it's any consolation, you're going to be great parents one day.

What is meant:  A super loving compliment.

Alternative:  There is no alternative. This is awesome.

Why I've included this:  Because it's still something that's hard to hear. At the end of every unsuccessful cycle, we're forced to ask ourselves, Why? Why aren't we able to have children easily like other people? There's a sneaky little lie that pops up in response, telling us we don't have children because somehow we aren't worthy or won't be good parents. We need sweet friends like you to help us combat this lie. It'll be hard to hear. You may see little flickers of hurt or bitterness cross our face. But don't take it personally and keep reminding us that our situation is not due to our capabilities. That sneaky little lie is one we can combat together. :)


In the end, if you aren't sure what to say, just remember to tell us this:  God is enough. He is sovereign; he is good. He satisfies. And Jesus will always tell us exactly what we need to heard, Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

Agape,
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