WHAT TO SAY TO YOUR FRIEND WHO'S INFERTILE

at one of my favorite pad thai spots in chelsea

I've been thinking a lot about the things you do and don't say to your friend who's infertile. Do you have a friend who's infertile? Are you the friend who's infertile? All of us have a friend who's infertile, whether or not we know it, that's just the odds. And it's awful. It's isolating. It's the worst kind of loneliness, when you're the one who's infertile. Even when you have it easy--I feel like I have it pretty easy; I've seen it work before, I have every confidence it will work again once we're able to dedicate ourselves to the treatments--even when you have it easy, it's up there with the worst kinds of pain. It's the worst kind of pain I've ever experienced. Because there's nothing anybody can do, except that one thing that you know you can do, that one thing that will work. Something might work, and you know it, you just don't know what it is yet. 

But people, we try, don't we? That's part of the fun of being flawed human beings. We always try, and we always have the best intentions. We always want to comfort. It's hard to be the friend on the other side of infertility. I've been on that side, too--I know exactly what I don't want to hear when I'm in pain from the loneliness of infertility, and yet, when it comes time to comfort fellow Infertile Myrtles, my instinct is to go there straight away just the same, to those same loving, well-intentioned, yet completely empty words that others said to me that frustrated me so much. 

So I thought we could open up the conversation. What are some of the worst things to hear as an infertile friend? What are some of the best? I'd love to hear it. In the meantime, here are some of mine. 

DON'T SAY:

1. *Wide-eyed, while your many small children circle your legs, while your infertile friend talks about ovulation* "Oh gosh, I don't know anything about this at all." 

Yeah. I know you don't. But ugh. UGH. Don't say this. It always makes me feel like such an alien species. 

2. "Maybe you should try giving up gluten. I had a friend who gave up gluten, and . . ." 

Chances are, we've tried all that. Chances are we've gone on meat, off meat, on gluten, off gluten; we've tried veganism and hedonism and running more and exercising less. We've tried all of the herbs. We're perfectly capable of smiling and saying, "Sure! I'll try that next!" But what we really want to do when we hear this is bang our heads against something blunt. Because this kind of hyperawareness--of what we put in our bodies or do with our bodies--once we start to think of all the things we have yet to try or once we suppose that any decision or regimen we take is rife with baby-making possibilities or lack thereof, it starts to get incredibly ridiculous, fast. The fact is, no one can live this way. No one should put that kind of pressure on themselves. More than likely, your friend happened to get pregnant that month because fertility is confusing and it may have had nothing to do with whatever she was trying at the time. Or not! It's such a crap shoot. You feel helpful, but you sound somewhat panic-inducing.

3. "Well you should probably stop [eating / drinking] [Diet Coke / insert other guilty pleasure of choice]." 

Along the same vein, please don't do this one. Don't tell me what I'm doing wrong. I've started to think that if this type of thing were really true, there would be zero babies. Noooo babies. Think about it. Alcoholics get pregnant. Crack addicts get pregnant. Undernourished teens living in poverty get pregnant. If it were as easy as giving up Diet Coke, I'd have had four babies by now, because that's how many times I've personally given up soda hoping it would lead to a baby. And! Not only that, but I drank Diet Coke through my entire pregnancy with Huck, so. (But I *am* going to give it up for real this time. Just you wait!   ??)

4. RELAX. Go on vacation! Drink some wine!

I had an older lady friend say this last one to me one Sunday. IN CHURCH. It actually went, and I quote, "Well, my youngest happened because one night I got so drunk . . ."  

5. "Maybe you should gain / lose weight."

Hey. Thanks for thinking I'm skinny / fat? Unless you're my doctor, can it.

6. "Are you sure you're doing it right?"

Hah! Look, lady.

7. "You're young, you have time!"

Don't belittle my feelings of urgency!!

8. "It'll happen on God's time."

Tell that to all the babies left in dumpsters behind the high school every year. 

9. "I know someone who struggled for YEARS to get pregnant. She adopted a baby, and then, bam!"

This may be the most egregious one of all. And yes, it happens. It's very common. But the thing is, it can take years to adopt a baby. It takes a fierce dedication to adoption to adopt a baby. Adoption is not a means to an end. Adoption is its own end. The agony of adoption is neck and neck with the agony of fertility treatments, I've seen it close up, and I'd never want introduce yet another source of angst into my life just so my uterus could maybe get a tenant once it's all signed + delivered. Telling me about your friend who adopted and got pregnant literally has nothing to do with me, unless I am actively trying to adopt as well, in which case, sure. But if I am trying to adopt, it is for the baby I'm adopting. NOT the baby I might get pregnant with later.

10. "As soon as you give up, it'll happen."

The problem with this is, if you decide to give up in the hopes that giving up will trick the fates into getting you pregnant, that's not really giving up, is it? There is literally no possible way to take this advice in the spirit in which it is intended. It's like telling me to remove my feet and put them where my hands are, it's just, like, how??

OTHER THOUGHTS

1. If you get pregnant, don't avoid telling her. 

We can take it. Dancing around the issue makes us feel even more isolated and weird, so just rip off the bandaid. We can take it. If it hurts, it isn't because we're not happy for you. We are so happy for you.

2. Even more important, if you're already pregnant, try not to complain about it around her. 

Don't even tell me how lucky I am to look good in a bathing suit or not to feel sick all the time. Don't. Even. 

3. Don't ask why she hasn't tried IVF yet. 

A friend of mine came up to me once and out of nowhere told me to just get it over with and do IVF already, because it wasn't worth the years of struggle trying to conceive, because most likely it wasn't going to work, and the thing is, not having $15,000 to throw at IVF just then, it was kind of the worst thing anyone had ever said to me, ever. 

DO SAY:

It's not fair. 

You don't deserve this.

I am so frustrated for you.

Gosh, that sucks.

I am so sorry.

It's just. not. fair.

You're going to make a really great mom someday.

My mom somehow always knew that this was the only thing I needed to hear. You know what, it's NOT fair. It isn't. Hearing her say that was like being given permission to just let out that big breath of hurt, because someone finally got it. It's just. not. fair.

OTHER THOUGHTS

1. Think of her on Mother's day. 

Bring her flowers, send her an encouraging text message. Call her Mama. I know it sounds dumb, but that was such a comfort to me every year. 

2. Let her hold your babies. 

That feels gooooood. 

3. Let her cry, or rage, or pout, and don't try to fix it, and don't feel strange about it, and don't feel guilty. 

Those feelings need to be felt. Honor them. While you're at it, honor the important role you're playing by just being there.