We need to recognise the pain of infertility and unspoken trauma of ‘almost motherhood’
At every family gathering since we got married in 2018, the women would ask me, “How is married life?” followed by, “Where are the babies?” We tried for a baby for almost six years; naturally for the first two and a half, and then, after a diagnosis of male factor infertility from my husband’s years on dialysis following kidney failure when he was 22, through IVF.
Once, at my mother’s house, her friend assumed that, because I was wearing a kaftan, I must be pregnant. I didn’t feel upset – in fact, I couldn’t stop laughing as my mother turned my kaftan into a fitted dress to emphasise my “no belly”. Later, I realised that I was laughing to mask the shock. I didn’t know how else to respond.
The women in our lives mean well; they want to be encouraging about becoming mothers, and this is how they communicate it. It never feels like the right time for me to educate people on infertility when there’s a whole culture to dismantle, and besides, I don’t always have the emotional capacity to educate. Laughing it off is sometimes an act of self-care. A discussion can give you more hurt than you bargained for.
