MENTAL HEALTH AND INFERTILITY

🌷The National Institute of Health, along with countless other studies, have shown that the psychological impact of infertility is similar to that of a cancer or HIV diagnosis. Least shocking thing I have read. Three years ago, when we lost our son, I felt firsthand the mental impact of losing our son. Going through multiple surgeries, multiple rounds of IVF, being told I could never carry my children, going through gestational surrogacy, and then losing two more littles in that process, it a took a toll on my mental health for which I could never have prepared. The physical trauma was nothing compared to the mental anguish. The uncertainty of our future. It was unbearable to know that, regardless of how hard we fought, stayed healthy, “did everything right,” there was no guarantee of a baby. Because of this, we will never, never, lose sight of how lucky we are to have our little Evie.  

To make matters worse, because infertility is still a topic people don’t like to touch, so many people in my life simply disappeared. Multiple people would later tell me they just didn’t know what to say or do. (I also had some amazing people who showed up, and continue to show up to this day). The people that reached out throughout the entire 3 year journeyI’ve had to let go of a lot of anger, hurt, and sadness resulting from this. See, unlike the death in a family or even other diagnoses, people don’t know “how to deal with the infertile” because we don’t talk about infertility like we talk about other human pain. I shouldn’t expect people to know how to deal with a situation for which they have no firsthand experience. But still, it hurt (still does.) Infertility is already so isolating and lonely, when people disappear, it only makes the struggle that much more unbearable.

This month has been extremely rough. My therapist is helping me navigate expressing what I need from people, something I am terrible at doing (typical Minnesotan). Simply saying “I’m not doing great right now, it would really help me if we could chat,” is so helpful, but so difficult to do. I don’t want to be a burden. I am hyper aware that people still don’t know what to do with me or my infertility experience. Even my dad, whom is one of my favorite people, didn’t know what to say when I was miscarrying. All he could do was stare at me (at least he had the self-awareness to say, “I wish this was something sheetrock could fix.” – he’s in construction.)

This is part of what makes infertility so goddamn difficult. It doesn’t end. Phil and I are not trying to have a baby right now. We are not in a gestational surrogacy journey. Even so, when I got pregnant, I was thrown right back into the infertility realm. Facing this dark experience very much alone. Knowing that people don’t know how to react, (especially in this situation, when everyone in our lives thought pregnancy was an impossibility for us,) so they simply say nothing. If I could offer one piece of advice to every human being, when someone you care about is going through a tough time, not  reaching out should not be an option. A text message or a phone call can help someone struggling get through a day. Silence only makes their experience worse.

This month has been awful. My mental health has taken a beating. I’m not doing well. I put on a strong face for work (no one there knows about the pregnancy or miscarriage,) I am only joyful and happy around our daughter (because she deserves that from me,) but I feel completely disassociated from my body and emotions. My heart hurts, knowing what just happened. This has been difficult on Phil and my marriage. Our experiences have been different. He wanted to protect me and make sure I got out of surgery well. That was his goal. But this experience hasn’t been so easy for me. Physically, I am fine. My body has recovered from the miscarriage and surgery. It’s my mind that is not okay. It’s the emotional toll that can’t be fixed by a medical procedure.

Normally, I have a cohesive thought to wrap up my post, but I don’t this week. This month has taught me that “once infertile, always infertile,” and the emotional toll of that is inescapable.

So, from here, all I know how to do is find joy in my daughter, go on a date with my husband, and hope that time will help mend this mental wound.🌷