Thirty Six: Fertile or Futile? Fighting a losing battle: the pressure of infertility vs a loving relationship
You know when you’re no longer twenty-something and your body clock is thundering in your ears? Yeah, that’s how old I feel.
At 36, I reached a point in both my career and relationship and was battling with the question - and logistics - of starting a family. I wrote about this a while ago here in ‘Motherhood: to be or not to be — a very millennial question’ - this is my first blog update since.
In September next year, I’ll hit the 37 mark leaving it just a slim 2 years left before the IVF eligibly cut off age in Surrey and 3 years left before the big 40. Something I wasn’t aware of until we became one of the 1 in 7 couples in the UK struggling with infertility.
Jesus.
I’m writing this 10 years on from when I initially started pondering the “kids” question. 10 years on. I’ve been married. Divorced. Have a different job - have had many different jobs, a different home, a different partner. And quite possibly a completely different outlook on life than I had back then.
10 years on and the “new baby” and “pregnancy-related” social media updates are really starting to sting. Why? Because I’m starting to panic and think: “Have I left it too late? Is childlessness my intended state?” “Is this what is meant for me?”
After years of people warning you to be careful, to use protection, to not get pregnant - it’s only when you actually start trying do you discover whether fertile or futile is your fate.
I’m writing this almost two years into our infertility journey - a journey that started back in March 2020 and one that has scraped across the landscape of our relationship since. It’s a journey that has clawed its way into every facet of our existence - more so mine than his - such is the way we are as individuals in dealing with matters of the heart. Infertility is an all-consuming state - once you enter it - the Pandora’s box lid opens - past the point of no return - and it’s pretty suffocating - leaving little to no room for anything else.
Blood test after blood test. Phone call after phone call. Pricked, pushed, prodded, questioned, explored, examined. Letter after letter. Appointment after appointment. Cancellation after cancellation. Disappointment after disappointment. It is relentless. And that’s just my side of the story.
How many eggs do I have left?
Trying to function on a daily and monthly basis, whilst thoughts like “will I ever be a mother who can carry her own baby - a baby she has biologically conceived with her chosen partner” swim around your head leaves a pretty sour taste in your mouth and a fuzziness to your thinking.
“You’ve changed. You’re not the girl I met. All you think about is fertility stuff. It’s ruining our relationship.” He blasts. Cold. Callous.
“It’s not my fault - he says. It’s not my issue.” And as these words fall out of his mouth, I know he’s having another head in the sand moment. Avoiding feeling anything.
“How do you want me to feel?” He asks, as I search his face for an ounce of compassion.
“If this is how it’s affecting you now, I’m worried how you’ll be if we find out we can never have a child? Get in that mindset where you’re never going to have a child - then anything else is a bonus.” He says.
“So you want me to give up hope?” I say to him, aghast.
It’s like a swarm of bees circling around your head, who could sting you at any moment. Living with infertility feels like living with a diagnosis that kills you from the soul up, but leaves living and breathing your exterior unscathed but full of torment. I know this sounds dramatic, but it is fucking awful.
Yes, there’s still my perky tits. The flat stomach. The free time to go to the gym and keep myself in shape. Yes, there’s the extra money each month to buy and do whatever the fuck I want. But what there isn’t is a legacy - a family - a possibility that you might pass on some of your genes, your best traits - a chance to nurture something you have cherished, loved and longed for - and grown from seed.
Moving on
For the last two years, each month, like clockwork, I am reminded that I am a woman without - less than. At least that is how I feel when I am at my lowest. I look around at the faces of the mothers and the fathers - the adoration and frustration they feel for their offspring, and I feel… I feel bitterness and resentment.
I grieve for a life that I might not have. It hits me, without warning, a blow to the stomach. A lump in the throat. A rage and an anger that I struggle to contain or articulately express.
The stigma attached. The hiding. The shame. The secrecy. It’s too much.
I wouldn’t wish infertility - the ruinous nature of it - on my worst enemy.
Show me a couple who have been through this and survived without tearing strips off one another daily and I will show you a pair of liars. It changes you - makes you cynical. Sad. Desperate. Hate one another. Struggle to find the light and love that made you fall for that person in the first place.
For any man or woman who longs to know the feeling of parenthood - who yearns for that unconditional bond, it’s punishing to find it so far from your grasp, when you eventually go to reach for it.
Motherhood, Fatherhood. Parenthood. Three words. Three states of being. Three life milestones - achievements - entry to a club you’re not privy to. Welcome to Otherhood.
If it doesn’t happen - make it the best life without kids you possibly could have.
Q. Why don’t you adopt? Use a donor?
Words meant to comfort, fall on deaf ears.
I won’t be able to move on from this until every possible avenue has been explored. My fear is whether I’ll still have a relationship or my sanity at the end of it?
Q. Do I want it just because I cannot have it?
Is this imposter syndrome creeping in? That feeling - that fear of being “not good enough”. Maybe?
Or is it that I just want to be in a relationship and loved by someone who wants to have a family with me - whether it happens or not? Someone who yearns to see a mini you or him. I don’t know.
All I do know is that I am so tired of this. Exhausted. The weight of it all is too much. Correction: was too much.
Update January 2022
Since writing this post a few months ago - sadly, my partner and I have now separated. I do not know when I will be ready for another relationship, or whether infertility will be a factor that rears its ugly head then too, but for now I shall concentrate on my career and having the best and happiest possible life I can, without him by my side.
I truly hope he finds happiness – and the ability to be kinder and more empathetic to his next partner.
If you too are going through infertility issues or relationship struggles - please know you do not have to go through this alone.
Contact a specialist Counsellor at BICA: British Infertility Counselling Association and arrange an appointment for yourself and/or you both together - they also offer couples counselling - the one in Surrey we found was quoted £90 a session. Best of luck to you if you find yourself on this life path. It’s not an easy one, and you both need to want it 200%.
Tony and team at Red Lion Logistics helping to move my belongings into storage
Just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to Tony and Matt at Red Lion Logistics removals company for helping me to move my belongings into storage whilst I figure out what my next steps are. I would whole-heartedly recommend their services for any Surrey, London or UK house moves or courier services that you might need. They’ll be kind with both your heart, your most precious belongings, and incredibly sensitive to whatever personal situation or life change you find yourself going through. Thank you!