Humble pie, no coffee

It's been a nice Sunday morning so far. I've baked muffins, cleaned the kitchen, practiced yoga and, wait, I hadn't had coffee yet. Ooops! This post may be less than lucid because of that. I hope your Sunday morning is lovely and involves coffee (but probably not for Adele)

I read your comments to my last post with some degree of horror. It was difficult to read about the comments you had received in relation to your infertility. Yes, of course I got mad about it. How could these people say those things? But my first reaction was one where my heart ached for yours. I wish those comments could be given back to their owners somehow. My examples felt a bit mild compared to what you've had to endure.

I regret to report that the last entry has also had some unfortunate consequences in my IRL friendships. One of my most beloved friend believed I was describing her in one example (I wasn't). Another friend wrote to me and said she was worried about having been insensitive in the past (she never has been). I did not intend to make my dear, dear friends feel like they had mis-spoken, but that was the consequence of it. I guess this parallels how people who make insensitive comments to infertiles usually don't intend on hurting our feelings. It's a great irony, as Foxy pointed out.

I looked back on why I had written that post. I know that I was feeling burdened by the sting of the comments and was finding myself ruminating about them and how I should have responded (rumination: sucking the soul out of healthy women everywhere. see psychologist Susan Nolen-Hoeksema's research for more info on that). I was hoping that writing the comments on my blog may help me just s.t.o.p. ruminating.

I think it did, but unfortunately, it created this other problem. The response from my IRL friends made me reflect on the principle of "Right Speech". The basic principle is that one needs to avoid creating harm in the world through lying or saying things that will be hurtful. One of my teachers would say that before one speaks, one should ask themselves "Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary?". In the same way that those folks who made comments that hurt me, I have also written words that caused harm in other people.

This left me quite conflicted in my theoretical orientation (and what am I without a theoretical orientation, I ask you?). On one hand, I believe that some limited, carefully timed venting can bring a bit of relief. On the other hand, I believe in not harming other people. So I sit here with my heart half-filled to the brim with regret, and the other half glad that we were able to write some of the comments down and (perhaps) let them go.

I also want to write that overwhelmingly, my IRL friends are absolutely amazing women and men. They have brought incredible grace and kindness to my life. My friends are my family. I credit them with helping me through dark days and with celebrating joys at each turn. My friends hold my heart. I can't tell you how sad I was that some of them felt like I might not appreciate what they have done for me.

So I may still vent on the blog. I probably will. Yet I think next time, I may give some more thought about right speech before I lay it all out.

What not to say

[Warning: This post was written for the purposes of venting. Rainbows and unicorns are off on a professional development day and weren't able to participate in the writing of this post.]

I've been thinking of my top 10 list of things not to say to an infertile, but I never make it past 3. So I thought I would post what I've got, and you could maybe add yours in the comments.

There are a great many horrible things I've heard being said to others, but there are only 3 very awful things that have been said to me. Here they are:

1) "Well, maybe I'll be infertile too, you know" from a friend who was not yet ready to have children. I recognize that this was said out of compassion and I truly love the friend who said this to me. She meant so well by it. She didn't want me to feel alone in my sorrow, so she opened the possibility that she too could have problems conceiving. Unfortunately, thinking about her not being able to conceive makes me so sad, I almost start to cry. She is a wonderful woman and deserves to have the children she wants to have. So, unfortunately, not a helpful comment, especially not when it was one of the first thing that she said after finding out about our infertility.

2)"Well, at least you won't have to suffer through all the discomforts of pregnancy" This one is wrong on so many levels, I don't even know where to start. Perhaps the thing most wrong with it is that my Family Doctor said this to me. Yes, I was in her office in July and she asked how the fertility treatments were going. I was feeling particularly down on that day, so I started crying. She was of course trying to provide comfort, and missed the bulls eye oh, by about the width of 3 Canadian provinces.

3) "oh Augusta, you always do things in such an unorthodox way. I guess you'll also just do this (have a baby) in an unorthodox way" That was said to me by a friend who came to dinner on the same day I visited my family doctor (see 2). Part of why I was having such a tough day before I went to my GP was that I knew this friend was coming and she had said in her email she had a "surprise" for me. Last time I saw this friend, she failed to order her reliable glass of red wine at the French restaurant, which, of course, roused my suspicions. She waited until dinner to tell us about her pregnancy, although at 5 months, it was quite visible. She went on and on about the pregnancy (full disclosure here: when I feel too vulnerable, I start asking people a LOT of questions and make them talk about themselves. So I had my part to play in that). This friend knew about our infertility, although had not been updated recently. Then when she asked about when we would start a family (another gem), I told her about the failed fertility treatments (egg donation was still very tenuous at that point). I didn't feel like raining on this woman's parade and was hoping we could change the topic, but she was steadfast. And then the comment about my unorthodoxy. I actually was so dumbfounded that I had to ask her what she meant by it, which did not clarify much since she was making desperate and not very coherent attempts to back paddle on her comment, seeing it had upset me. Sheesh! That one was obviously uncomfortable for both of us!

So let's review what we've learned here. First, as a woman in childbearing years, never tell an infertile that you also may be infertile unless you know you are. This is never comforting. Second, if you are a family doctor, find a way to talk to infertiles that will be empathetic and won't involve your foot going into your mouth. Third, never, ever be the one highlighting an upside to infertility if your are not the one who is infertile. Very. Bad. Form.

Ok, what comments have people made about your situation that have stung you?