Husband and I have been TTC (trying to conceive) for over a year and a half. We had a plan - we wanted to be married for five years and then we'd hop to it. We traveled, bought a new house, did what we wanted. So when we were ready to start trying, I was super optimistic. I knew our journey would be a bit longer than our friends (because of my thyroid disease) but I'm surrounded by women who's husbands just breathe on them and they become pregnant! I had high hopes.
(Ever hear the saying "Best way to make God laugh is to tell Him your plans" - Well, I've been keeping God in stitches).
Six months of trying - I started to get frustrated. 10 months of trying and my turning 30 - I started to worry/panic. A year of trying and I was completely discouraged. I'm now with a fertility doctor and I'm going through all the motions there. Infertility BITES. It really does. BUT my doctor and his nurses are A-MAZING. Each month is a struggle - I've had so much blood drawn that my arms look like they have heroin tracks. I'm getting poked, prodded, examined on a steady, consistent basis. I'm taking heavy fertility drugs and experiencing all the lovely side effects. Infertility is hard. It's trying. It's emotional. Thankfully, I have the World's Most Amazing Husband who is positive and encouraging and extremely supportive.
But I've gone on a tangent. The point of my post is What Not to Say to Couples that are TTC. In my year and a half struggle - I've heard it all. And I constantly ask myself:
Did I ask and say these things to other women?
I've found that women don't like to talk about infertility. It's like something they are ashamed of. Like they've failed as women and have this problem. I've been pretty open with family and friends about my struggles and I'm constantly surprised how many women admit that they, too, have experienced fertility issues. The more I talk about my experience, the more I've learned from other women.
Again with the tangent. Here is my list in (no random order):
1.
You just need to relax!
Really?! Why thank you! That's genius advice! It's hard to "relax" when things have turned almost robotic. You are on a schedule and you both are so focused the why's, th how's, the what-drug-is-this-now? stuff. When you get to a certain point in the TTC journey - it gets a bit harder to
relax.
2.
You need to get drunk one night and just go at it.
Excuse me?! I'm almost 31 people. Do you know how long it takes for me to recover from drinking two glasses of wine?! 21 I am not. Let alone just getting drunk one night is not going to make my eggs more fertile or my husband's swimmers swim faster. If anything, alcohol is not a good thing when TTC! Plus, genius advice giver, you have FOUR DAYS in an entire month that you are able to get pregnant. There's so much science involved that I'm not even going to go into it. Just don't say this. It's annoying.
3.
You should think about adoption. I know a couple who started to adopt/did adopt/whatever and they got pregnant three months later!This just makes me want to kick said genius advice giver in the shins. I'm not at the adoption stage. I want to give birth! I want to create a child with my husband! I need to try all the other avenues first before adoption even becomes an option for us. I'm just starting to wrap my head around my infertility - suggesting adoption at this stage is just insensitive. And upsetting. My heart hurts when I think about the possibility of never giving birth or creating a child or feeling it grow in my belly. I would need to mourn the loss of that option before I would even start to focus on adoption.
4.
You're so young! You'll be fine.
This is not comforting. And no, I'm not young. Do you know, genius advice giver, that once you turn 34 your eggs become "old" and less fertile? Your chances of getting pregnant drop drastically! So the closer I get to 34, the more panicked I get. Giving me a "ppppssshhh, you're young!" comment just makes me feel like you are dismissing my situation and making it seem like it's not a big deal.
5.
You just need to go on a trip!Right. Because I'm not already spending an arm and a leg on fertility treatments that my insurance does not cover. Let alone LIFE expenses (house, car, food), we're to plan a trip to probably get drunk and relax, right? This is just a great way to combine 1 and 2 and still be insensitive.
6.
Have you tried ...?I've heard it all. Have you tried having sex on a full moon night? Have you tried using pillows? (Don't ask). Have you tried thisdrug or thisdrug? Have you tried this position? Have you, have you, have you. And the anser is YES! (well, not to the full moon thing. That is just ridiculous). I'm with a fertilty specialist now, people. In order to even GET to him, I had to go through the riggamarrole of all the other stuff. Yes, Husband has been checked (he's fine). Yes, I've been on clomid. Yes, I got my tubes blown out. Yes. yes. yes.
What to say instead:
1. I'm thinking of you.
2. It must be really hard for you both. I'm sending positive thoughts your way.
3. What can I do for you?
4. How are you feeling?
Or
JUST LISTEN! Sometimes I want to cry it out, vent it out, or just talk it out. Sometimes I need to vocalize my thoughts so it makes more sense in my head. Women going through infertility just need other women to talk to. If your strength is a listening, comforting ear - then that is something that is better than any muttered, genius advice.
Did I miss any? What have people said to you?
~M
Paris. Oh, how I miss you! I've been wanting to go back to Paris for a loooonnnngggg time. And the longing has been getting stronger and stronger. Our friends just got engaged in front of the Eiffel Tower (one of the sweetest engagement pics ever) and my longing has shot through the roof. I scope out websites looking for deals. I've tried appealing to Husband to take pity on me and wisk me away to the City of Lights. Alas, no such luck. (so far ...)
One of my most favorite works of art. (That's me in the picture, btw). 
In Versailles garden. 
One of the best sandwiches we have ever had. I would completely cheat with my gluten free-ness for this sandwich ...
In the Boboli Gardens in Florence (Duomo in the background)
That amazing woman (with my two adorable nieces) is my mother. And she is 63. SIXTY THREE. She takes biking trips in France. And does step aerobics with abandon. She pounds two glasses of wine and gets blitzed. She's NEVER had to color her hair. Her skin is gorgeous and smooth. She comes from another amazing woman who at 82 years old was hiking in Vail and traveling around the world. Yes, I've got damn good genes.
