I got into fiction writing because my life didn’t seem like it would be all that interesting to readers. I’m a straight white woman in Canada with a good job, a loving family, and a bossy cat. Occasionally I have tough days, but overall I’ve been pretty lucky.
My husband and I got married four years ago. We started talking about a family pretty quickly. Looking back, we were naively optimistic about the whole process. I envy past me for that. Two years later, we started to admit that there might be a problem. We met with doctors, explored options, made decisions.
I told almost no one about any of this at the time. Not my parents, no one close to me. I had one friend I knew was struggling with infertility. I emailed her and said it was ironic that people who get pregnant easily are more than happy to talk about how easy it was, and people who can’t don’t talk about it, when they’re exactly the people who need the most help.
To date, my post has been viewed on Medium over 1000 times. I don’t know how many readers have seen it on Mamamia, but they tell me it’s doing well. Clearly, it’s struck a chord for readers. People have left comments telling me they know the feeling, that they’ve had the same experiences. I’m so sorry for all of you. I hope you’ve had someone to talk to about it.
My story may not be the same as yours. My husband and I are choosing adoption. Maybe you chose rounds of IVF. Maybe you chose to live childlessly, and savour every weekend morning that you get to sleep in. These choices are deeply personal, maybe some of the most personal choices you’ll ever make. I hope you believe in yours as much as I believe in mine. I hope you have someone you can talk about it with.
Thank you for reading,