As my husband and I enter into our third year of marriage, we no longer feel like newlyweds. We are currently living in our fourth home as a couple, have adopted a dog, and have attended several weddings since our big day. It feels like the world is flying by and we're finally settled into this whole marriage thing. But as time passes, we realize how many struggles come with being married: Bills, work, scheduling conflicts, and enjoying old hobbies all enter the mix. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that marriage is hard. Oh so worth it - but hard.
The thing we have found most challenging over the course of our short 3 years, though, has been the struggle of infertility. With the combination of an age gap between myself and my siblings & the passion to raise children, we decided to "try" a little over a year ago. With both of us being so young, our original philosophy was that we could begin trying and whenever it happened, we would rejoice! If it didn't happen right away, it was no big deal - we were 23 years old and just eager to see what the Lord would bring us. But now, 18 months later, we sit at home wondering what the reason for this could be. After all the tests, needles, and medications; why are we still not raising a family? Why all the tears, heartbreak, and unexpected life turns? I find myself hitting my knees at least once a week while I talk to God and plead with Him to show me the reasoning behind all of this. (My husband repeatedly reminds me that that's not how it works and we often don't see things until the time has passed us, but it only seems natural to keep pleading.)
As we continue to struggle through all of these questions, I have come to ask myself two much larger questions. Why wasn't this issue on my radar? Why do I feel so alone?
Surely there are other women all around the world that are struggling with the same thing - I know women in my extended family that are struggling with this! So why do I feel so alone in this hidden struggle? Why don't I feel comfortable putting a prayer request in on Sunday morning so my church family can cover us in prayer? Why is this a hidden struggle??
As I have wrestled with this question, I seem to come back to the same resolution each time: sex and all that comes with it is a "dirty topic" that we need to navigate on our own. We don't want to talk to our youth about the realities of sex; We want to put them into eighth grade sex ed class and pray they figure it out on their own someday. We want to shield their eyes during movies and hope they don't search for porn later. And, worst of all, we don't educate our young people about how amazing sex can be when it takes place in the right circumstances.
It simply isn't enough to sit our children down and say "Sex is what happens when two people love each other very much... You can't do it until there's a ring on your finger." They need more information than that. Because if they don't get it from us, they're going to find it online or from their friends - only further skewing the idea of what sex was intended to be.
We are keeping so much knowledge from our youth simply because we feel awkward saying things out loud, and it seems that parents shy away from teaching their kids about sex because there's just not a "natural" time to chat about it. It's no casual conversation. I have been blessed with amazing parents, but there are some conversations that are just plain awkward.
But "the talk" doesn't JUST cover the topic of sex. Having the conversation within the home, around the church, and even from mentors can influence a child in huge ways. It makes the whole conversation feel less disgusting. And it opens the door to fluid conversation that has no limits - this should be our goal. Because when we don't open the door to our youth when we have the chance, EVERYTHING involving sexual relationships becomes taboo - even things like infertility.
Wouldn't I (and others in my situation) feel less alone if we knew more? The statistics around infertility truly are staggering. If we were aware of others that are fighting the same battles and sticking to the same rules, wouldn't we feel that there was a support system in place without us trying to build it?
Don't get me wrong - over the course of these months, I have developed my own mini-system where I can reach out to vent, ask advice, and cry... But I had to build this on my own. There was no outspoken person in my life or on social media bringing awareness to the fact that one in eight couples have trouble getting pregnant or sustaining a pregnancy! (2006-2010 National Survey of Family Growth, CDC). I would just as soon assume that this is super uncommon if I didn't have strong women in my life telling me (behind closed doors of course) that that's simply not the case.
Who will tell women without a support system that 44% of women with infertility have sought medical assistance. Of those women, only 65% will give birth. (Infertility as a Covered Benefit, William Mercer, 1997)?
We are not alone. Women who struggle with this issue tend to stay silent in fear of judgement or pity, and according to a recent study, 61% of women hide the struggle to get pregnant from their friends and family.
I am incredibly blessed to have my mom, sister, and sister-in-law as part of my support group and phone tree after appointments. I'm in no shortage of close friends to talk to when things get tough. But taking solace in this feels wrong when I think of how many other women face the same trials without someone to talk openly with.
What we all need to recognize is that there is a feeling of grief, despair, shame, and confusion that comes with infertility. With so many of our women struggling with this issue, isn't it time to bring it out into the light?
Please stop asking me when we're having children.
Please stop teasing me for letting the months go by without "jumping on board the baby train."
Please stop assuming pregnancy happens just because you decided it was time.
It's a daily struggle. It's something I think about all the time. And it's something I bring to the Lord daily. If you're struggling with this too, please know that I'm totally open to crying, venting, praying, and eventually rejoicing with you too. This is something we should never go through alone. You are not alone.
