Please, Just Stop.

A couple years ago I had a brief but awkward conversation with a complete stranger. Doesn't really seem out of the ordinary, I know. But this was just weird. I don't quite remember what prompted her to speak to me even—maybe I'm just so approachable. But she felt the need to get awfully personal. The woman asked me if I was trying to have kids. Umm—excuse me, what? Did I just hear that correctly? My smart ass, sarcastic self immediately responded with, "are you asking me if I'm having sex with my husband?" I wish I could have captured her face in that moment. Jaw dropped and as red as a lobster coming straight for the dinner plate. She didn't know how to respond. Of course she didn't. Who the hell asks someone that, especially someone you don't even know? Anyways, if this is you—Please, just stop.

I'm 34 years old, married for a decade now and do not have children. That must mean that I, or we don't want them, right? Wrong. Wrong. WRONG! And it's not just me. It's not just us. It's so many women. It's so many couples. It's my family. It's my friends. It's so many that you start to question what happened. Why is it so hard to conceive a child these days? Why are so many couples struggling with infertility? What are we doing wrong? The questions are endless. Occasionally, I'll get the half joking, "do you know what makes a baby?" Or better yet, "you're probably just not having enough sex or at the right time." Or my personal favorite, "trying is the fun part!" Thank you, captain obvious! Glad you could make it. Like do people really think by saying these things they are making anyone feel better about their situation? Do they understand just how painful these comments really are? Sometimes I just want to say, "Fuck you! You have no idea what we're going through and no, trying isn't always the fun part!" That unsolicited advice or funny joke you want to provide—Please, just stop.

There are so many amazing women and couples that I know personally, who have or are currently silently struggling with the unyielding agony of infertility. But you would never know it—as their strength and courage and will to persevere are unmatched. It's a struggle that you just can't understand unless you're experiencing it firsthand. No one ever wants to talk about it. It's like the most sensitive of all subjects that could be brought up in conversation. People think money, religion, or politics are tough subjects at the dinner table—get real! 

But I get it. But I get it on the degree that I have experienced. There are plenty of degrees, if you're wondering. It’s hard to explain and if I’m being honest, I have no desire to explain, nor discuss. Most of us don't. It's deeply personal. But when you find someone that is willing to open up and discuss their struggles as well, it makes it more bearable. I continue to be shocked by the amount of conversations that have involved the phrase, "you too?" Time and time again. It's almost uncommon to find a couple that hasn't experienced a bout of infertility or a woman without some sort of underlying issue. Unreal. 

I have been blessed with incredible women who are dear friends, that understand—even though each of our journey's is different. They have or are currently experiencing it too and some to a much harder degree than I am. It's not easy. I can tell you that much. The mental anguish. The emotional rollercoaster. The physiologic changes. The physical pain. The feeling of being a failure. It's all terrible. But you learn to wake up each day and keep going. Pray a little harder and a little longer. Or maybe not at all, because you just don't feel like the Big Guy is listening anymore. You lose hope, but you don't. You just don't understand. Most people don't talk about it so you wouldn't even know about it. If you've never been there and think you get it, you don't—Please, just stop. 

Thankfully I haven't experienced the worst, like some women have. I can’t even fathom the thought of losing a child that you tried and prayed so hard for. But I continue to hear about it. It happened to yet another one. It keeps happening. The infertility journey is one that I wouldn't wish on anyone. However, when you can be on that journey with friends who understand, the pain and heartache that is experienced can be shared. It doesn't take it away, but it allows the sharing of emotional exhaustion. The burden can be lessened. At least we hope it is. 

I beat myself up mentally and emotionally, wondering what I did wrong. And maybe I haven't done anything wrong. Why can't my plan and God's plan just be in alignment with each other? I know it's not up to me—but I seek answers. If you didn't already know, I'll share this with you—you can have so much internal stress that it will literally alter your hormones, affect your physiologic responses, and cause physical changes in your body. It's crazy! None of which, I'm positive, helps the situation. But it's all part of it. 

Please stop asking if and when people are planning to have children. I don't care who you are—it's none of your business. Stop assuming because people are a certain age and don't have children, that they don't want them. Actually, feel free to assume—but keep the assumption to yourself. Stop offering advice. It's not what we need. It's not what we want. Stop suggesting lifestyle changes—we know what we're doing. Stop asking when you're going to have grandkids or nieces and nephews. Stop making jokes about how trying is the fun part. Stop trying to pry out information that isn't freely given. It's personal. You might think you're helping but—Please, just stop.