One thing that I have noticed in trying to find a support network for infertility is that there tends to be an uncomfortable gap between people who have persevered and ended up with a miracle and those who haven't yet or who never will. This is extremely unfortunate and can have dastardly effects on both categories of people.
For example, you say?
When I first started reaching out to people online, I ended up chatting with a woman who ended up becoming kind of a pen-pal. I was in the pits of my despair at the time so appreciating that I had someone to talk to did not cross my mind. I just knew that if I had a particularly tough day, or a question, or an experience, I could write to her, and I knew that she felt the same way.
One day, I checked my e-mail and saw a message from this person. She and her husband had just adopted a little boy. Apparently this had all been in the works for quite some time. They found out that they were getting their son very late at night and the process just sped up from there. She sent me a picture of her new little family.
I admit that at the time, I was not very "sportsmanlike." I am not even sure that I emailed her congratulations. I felt a little betrayed. My comrade in despair had gotten better? That's not supposed to happen. We lost touch shortly after that. I don't know who initiated the cessation of emails, but I am pretty certain I played a major role.
Fast forward about six years later. Another situation where I am confiding at long last in a person sharing somewhat similar experiences. This time I am in mad appreciation mode. I was in the "I need to talk about this to someone who understands" mode, and to have that person be a friend was too good to be true. Eventually, this friend, who had endured a tremendous amount of pain and loss, found out she was pregnant. I felt heartbroken at first. It's very hard to see someone conquer something that you know you just can't, and hey, humans are selfish wee beasts, are we not? But I supported her and encouraged her to enjoy the heck out of her experience.
I was shocked to learn that other women that my friend had encountered were not just silent, but they actually were pressuring her so much that she didn't think she should have a baby shower because it was just going to be too painful for so many of her friends. Now that really made me heartbroken. Who better to appreciate the joy of pregnancy and childbirth than those who have not been granted that gift? Sure, there will always be sadness and envy attached, and we might handle things with more or less grace at various times. But who are we to tell a person that they shouldn't rejoice in their change in fortune? I was very disturbed. I reflected back on my first pen pal and wondered if I had made her feel that I didn't want to hear about her joy. I'm sure I did, or she at least got that impression.
When you are diagnosed with infertility or when you are just having a hard time reaching your objectives, you want everyone to appreciate where you are coming from. It seems reasonable to storm out of conversations, to avoid joyful occasions, and to proclaim that you carry a burden no one will understand. But I think that there needs to be a trade-off. If you want people to support you in your grief, as they should, then I think it is fair to support people in their joy. It's not easy to listen to a friend or loved one who is in despair. It may not be easy to listen to a person gush about their new baby. If we support those who do have children...if we support those who overcome barriers, even if we can't -- people will be more willing to pay us the respect and support that we ask for, or so it seems to me.
What do you think? Can we bridge this gap?
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