Big Mouth Fertile Person

JA

Dear Big Mouth Fertile Person/s,

You probably don’t remember me, do you? I’m the IVF “poor responder”. Remember you told me you “never know what to do with people like me”? You asked me who had the “problem” me or my partner? Or how about, “I thought you’d definitely have kids (aka looking at your hips)”, “did you wait too long”, “maybe you’re not doing it right, you can borrow my husband we had no trouble having kids”, “you look healthy are you sure the doctor is right about your brain issue”, “don’t worry you can have my kids, I don’t like them anyway” …or my all-time favourite, “you would have been a beautiful mother”. Hmmm.

I still remember how it made me feel.

As Maya Angelou said, “you won’t always remember what someone said, but you will remember how they made you feel”. I get chills when I think of your words. I’ve started this letter many times and deleted it. It’s difficult to know where to start.

After spending years in an emotional wasteland, an overgrown wilderness of my own making, to protect myself with brambles and ivy covering my path. My grief has taken many different forms and made me feel as though my world has shrunk to a safe and manageable space. I have hidden in the shadows with shame my only friend. This is in my work as well as everything else, I merely have been existing, not living. For the longest time there has been no hope. I see the way you look at me, you pity me like I am not worthy and of course I have completely failed as a female to fulfil my duty, “your poor partner”.

Yes, I let you and your poisonous words bring me down. They stuck in my gut, in my head and felt like a heavier burden than was fair for me to carry. At times I used them like a crutch thanks to my low self- esteem, I welcomed anything that made me feel worse, shameless in my attempts to put myself down and staying there, holding my breath, wallowing in my own self-pity. Unable to look at my reflection in the mirror, I started to hate myself because of my infertility diagnosis. You made me feel like an outcast - a freak of nature.

You really hurt me. Tried to shame me and keep me focused on the one thing I cannot do. At this point, I need to say to you, that for the longest time, throughout and (especially) after the treatment I was full of shame for my “failure”. Nothing anyone said could stop me blaming myself for being infertile. I agreed with you I was a failure, hopeless, a useless partner and should just hide from the world and worship anyone fertile as I am not as worthy as they are.

The buck stopped with me, I am infertile and not ashamed to say it. But you know what after time and space to process this loss, I’m not angry with myself anymore. I’m on a process of learning to accept my body, warts and all. Focusing on trying to be a lot gentler with the internal dialogue I run on a daily basis. I’ve of course read and often re-read self-help books, listened to inspiration everywhere I can and try to remain positive in my thoughts. But the one question no-one has been able to answer is how do you deal with people like you? There are some lines of thinking that say you might have narcissistic personality traits, or maybe it’s just a big, out of control mouth.

But for me it’s more than this. My question is for not just you, but other insensitive people, who like to step over someone when they’re down. They seem to have a radar when you’re feeling a bit low or off centre and boom – they strike like a viper, tearing any joy or peace away from you. It’s like a gift (not a good one), I’ve encountered too many of them for it to be a random thing.

What is it that you seek? Power? Strength? Are you insecure and see my difference and pain as gossip? And more importantly how do I deal with the likes of you. I have focused on resilience, practised meditation, but the power you have is strong and dark. It can strike at any time and even putting up an emotional shield, isn’t enough. 

Yes, sometimes situations, words and people like you get to me. I cry or start to crawl back into my shell again, no-one around me sees the tears and scars, I have become as expert at keeping this inside of me. This is a wound that will never heal.

And you know what, I have to be ok with this as it’s never going to change. For whatever reason children are not on the cards for me. I carry a great amount of guilt & shame every minute of every day & there’s nothing anyone can do about that. My joy has to be found in other things, people, places and my beloved pets. Society in Australia reveres parents, even if you are the worst person on earth so long as you’re a parent there’s hope for you.

Our world needs to be a more compassionate place, if this horrible experience has taught me anything it’s that we need to look out for each other in moments like this without judgement or hate. You had power over me, especially with your words and cruel taunts and could have made me lose my faith in human nature. But I refuse to give you this much power. I am now part of a community of survivors, you made me feel like I was the only human on the planet with this problem. I hope by sharing this letter that I am shining a light on this horrid experience and draining your power this time.

I am not less of a human being because I cannot conceive a child or carry one to term. My external bruises have healed, it’s just the internal ones thanks to ratholes like you, that need time to heal as they keep being re-opened when you think of an even lower thing to say. I hid away behind my shame for a long time, and it’s going to be a lifelong process to heal, I don’t feel it’s as simple as just moving on. Everywhere I go I am reminded of the children I lost and those who never had a chance to draw a breath.

But thankfully I’m not as angry about what you said as I used to be, but in moments of weakness when my hard outer shell feels as though it’s cracking, I think of what you said and, on some level, it gets to me. Like a million eyes are burning on me, it makes my skin prickle and my face burn with rage. As an introvert, this is highly distressing as I like to think of myself as calm and like minimal attention. My irrational brain says well you should have given it another go, maybe you injected yourself wrong, maybe you should have put your legs up in the air after sex, maybe these things would have made a difference.

Then again maybe my dysfunctional brain is something I need to accept, but the hardest path I have had to walk is encountering the likes of bastard folk like you, digging in the knife, cruel, intentional and dangerous behaviours which you will never fix. 

Writing this letter was no easy task for me. But it made me realise that there are things that need to come out and see the light of day, without fear of judgement. Special mention to the nurse who insisted on calling me a “poor responder” on waking from the anaesthetic post IVF failure #4. I really hope you have a different job or at least had a change in your stinking attitude, you cursed monster. I was never a burden to you and that’s how you made me feel as though I should be embarrassed to be there and as I was a “failure” – like I was wasting your precious time. Now I’m going to banish you so you don’t waste anymore of mine.

Finally, in answer to some of the generally insensitive questions: my brain failed not me (so neither of us are the “problem), no we weren’t “doing it wrong”, no my partner doesn’t blame me and was non-plussed about being a parent anyway so no problems there (thank you beautiful one). I am a big believer in swimming with the current, and my IVF journey felt hard, too hard. It made me lose my health and I’m grateful beyond words it’s over. My “mature” age is now to blame for me not conceiving a child, a huge weight off my shoulders to be honest. Now its part of my story along with my achievements.

So, as I continue on this rocky life journey hopeful that my goal of finally liking myself again happens, far away from your poisonous words and hate. I love this world, just not a lot of the people in it, so I promise to use your cruelty to do good and stand up for those other “poor responders”. We have just as much right to be here and have a peaceful life as you, although I don’t think based on what I’ve heard peace is what you seek.

Goodbye as I am freeing myself of you now. I’m not quite ready for forgiveness, no something much better, freedom from my mind, my thoughts and my life. I will try not to think of you again and if I do it’ll be immediately replaced with a beautiful memory, one that makes me smile and now lets me look in the mirror and see the person I have become and I don’t see any failure in that.