I’ve been living in inner turmoil the last few months.
I have this desire to stay hidden.
To keep my secrets, mine.
But I have a desire to share.
To be brave.
I don’t want to be that woman.
That woman who can’t get her body to do what it’s supposed to.
To be looked at as the infertile one.
So I cry in secret.
I say I’m fine.
I try to convince myself I am.
But then reality hits me in the face.
Recent Ontario statistics estimate that 1 in 5 couples will struggle with infertility.
Look at four of your best girl friends. One of you will or has struggled with infertility.
She’ll grieve a life she doesn’t yet know.
She’ll wait with anticipation each month only for the reality to slap her in the face.
She’ll get up and somehow muster the courage to try again.
She’ll fight a fight that no one should fight alone.
But we do.
Month after month.
Year after year.
We’ll google infertility only to find stories of those who have come out the other side. Who post pictures of them with their babies. Those who shared their stories only after they their story changed.
We’ll try to self-diagnose ourselves because honestly that’s easier than going to another clinic. Speaking to another doctor.
We’ll grasp onto anything we can in hopes that we’ll be one of the lucky ones whose story will change.
We’ll think something is wrong with us so we’ll avoid having the conversation.
We’ll live in shame.
How can we not do this one thing?
How can so many people struggle with something that is so not talked about?
1 in 5.
1 in 10.
Those numbers are staggering. 1 in 5 couples will deal with infertility. 1 in 10 women will struggle with endometriosis.
Maybe it’s time we talk about it.
Maybe it’s time we crawl out from under our rock of shame.
And we embrace our infertility. We embrace our endometriosis.
We grieve together.
We share together.
We fight together.
Maybe it’s time.