Today is the last day of Infertility Awareness Week which is probably timed to get it out of the way before the two month slog around Mother’s Day and Father’s Day begins.
I am, as you are undoubtedly aware of by now, infertile. My diagnosis is unexplained infertility which means both of us have working parts, but pregnancies don’t take. Maybe I have a teflon uterus. Maybe it’s filled with the world’s missing socks which don’t show up in imaging tests. Who knows.
On this last day of NIAW and only a few days after I threw out my last ever pregnancy test (unused), I have a few things I’d like to put out there.
Yes, I can sleep in, but I’d rather have had a child than be able to sleep in.
Yes, my Covid ‘quarantine’ era was easier than parents had by far, but I’d rather have had a more difficult ‘quarantine’ with a child.
Ironically, I have fewer nights out than most of the Moms I know because they have networks of Moms to have nights out with.
While my vacations and holidays are different because I don’t have a child, then are not less-than. You don’t have to put down my Christmas celebration in order to say yours was fantastic. Both can be fantastic.
Women who cannot or do not give birth are still women. I can’t believe I have to type those words but here we are in 2024.
Even though I don’t have a child, I know what it feels like to love and to be loved. I just don’t have that parental love experience. In other terms, I’m still nourished by a dinner even if I’ve never had a salad course.
Families who choose not to have children are still families. Don’t knock their lives, vacations, holidays, or capacity for love.
Infertile people are well aware of all of the available options out there, and our choices to pursue (or not pursue) different options don’t mean we really didn’t want a child in the first place.
You don’t have to comfort me by suggesting I become the most amazing childless auntie or babysitter or volunteer. I didn’t want those roles, I wanted to be a mother. If you want to comfort me, just say “That’s tough and I’m sorry.”
My life is still great! Yes, we struggle with grief every year ESPECIALLY in May/June, but we’re okay.
If you are struggling with infertility, I’m sending you all of the hopes for a happy ending that I once had for myself.
If you want to time-travel, much of this is saved as an Instagram highlight. It’s from 2020, so you can still see my long blond hair with a tinge of purple going through the messy bun.
Related: It’s the hope that kills you.
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