Listen Up! I am 1 in 8

National Infertility Awareness Week is in full swing! And I can’t let the occasion go by without stopping for a moment to pause and reflect. Greg and I have been open about our difficulties to conceive and it has been such a blessing to share our story — our ups and downs — with all of you. It is not always easy to be vulnerable about such a sensitive subject. But by choosing to open up about our infertility and IVF journey, we have received so much love and support from friends, family, and even a wider community that, while we may not know them personally, they know our struggle, because they have been there, or still are there, too.

I truly believe that no one should suffer with infertility in silence. There is no need for embarrassment or shame. It shouldn’t be taboo. Infertility is a disease, one that affects 1 in 8 couples, and as sad and as lonely as it can feel, infertile couples should know: They are not alone. When I decided to open up our story to a larger audience by starting this blog, and posting on Facebook and Instagram, I was overwhelmed by the comments and messages that came in from people I know who, it seemed, were so happy and relieved to say, “Yes! Me too!” You never know how sharing your story might impact or inspire someone else. Even for those who have not had to endure the heartbreak of infertility, sharing your experience might help them become a more compassionate and understanding friend. 

As with any disease, increased awareness is a good thing and I love that the #NIAW theme this year is #ListenUp! Women (and men) need to listen to their bodies and know how infertility can affect them and when it is time to see a fertility specialist. The infertile should feel empowered to share their stories and their friends and family should listen (not advise, or diminish their emotions) with open hearts and minds. (This Infertility Etiquette tip sheet is excellent!) 

There are many ways to resolve infertility; there are many ways to make a family. But they all begin with love. While I’d never choose infertility, I’ve learned and grown immensely along the journey. I am so thankful that assisted reproductive technology like IVF exists. I am indebted to the nurses and doctors who guided us and helped us reach our dream. And my heart overflows with gratitude for the physical and online community that poured strength and encouragement into my husband and I before, during and after our IVF cycle — all because I decided to share and they chose to #ListenUp.

Learn more at infertilityawareness.org.

Not Alone

(via In Everything)

My current line of work as a bridal stylist has me meeting and connecting with women of varying backgrounds and experiences every day. And often, we bond in the most surprising of ways. (She’s in her skivvies, I’m measuring her bust and her booty… Suffice it to say, we get close fast and intimacy just can’t help but develop!) Wedding talk sometimes turns to real life talk and that’s exactly what happened a few nights ago.

Heidi was actually a walk-in appointment that we managed to squeeze in at the end of my shift when another bride didn’t show. An older bride (41, I later learned), she came by herself and was seemingly shy and soft-spoken for most of our hour together. Then, at the end of the appointment, when I went to get her waist and hip measurements, she noticed a big blue bruise on her belly.

“Oh no,” she said, grabbing at her stomach. “We must have hit a blood vessel.”

“Right now?” I asked quizzically.

“No, no,” she replied. “It’s from my injections.”

I caught my reflection in the mirror — my mouth gaped open in shock. I instantly knew what she meant. And yet, there was more to the story.

She went on to tell me that she was diagnosed with breast cancer; that she underwent a lumpectomy, and was then faced with deciding whether or not to undergo a mastectomy or radiation. Heidi decided on radiation but, somewhat against her doctor’s wishes, opted to retrieve some of her eggs first. That’s what the injections were for, in preparation for her egg retrieval.

As she shared her story, it took everything in me not to let the tears welling up in my eyes fall down my cheeks. Here was this woman, literally standing in a fitting room in her bra and underwear, confiding in a perfect stranger. One who is also struggling with infertility and yet, her situation is even more trying than mine. I kept thinking, she is so strong.

“Well, you know, my husband and I are actually starting IVF next month,” I offered.

My words opened up the conversation even further, and we traded more information: 

She only has one ovary and, despite how “young and healthy” I look (to Heidi, anyway), I actually don’t have “tons” of good eggs either. I told her I was a nervous about the injections and she advised that my husband treat the needle more like a dart — fast with a flick of the wrist. Inserting the needle slowly hurts more. (Heidi bought her fiancé clementines to practice.) The hormones make you gain weight, she also informed me; I laughed and said I’d heard that fun tidbit of information before and wasn’t looking forward to it. Heidi asked if my clinic is also RSC (the Reproductive Science Center of the San Francisco Bay Area) and I replied that, why yes, as a matter of fact, it is. 

The whole exchange left me stunned and, strangely enough, exhilarated. I couldn’t believe the connection I’d just made in 15 minutes in a dressing room. It felt a bit like kismet. We hugged goodbye and wished each other luck on our respective TTC journeys, and I spent the rest of the night marveling at the unexpected turn of events.

Moments like these remind me how important community and connecting is, especially when going through a trial, of any kind. Knowing that there are others who understand and are walking a similar path can give you the strength to continue on — not to mention valuable perspective. 

You are not alone. We are not alone.