What Not to Say (Infertility Edition)

In a break from my traditional reflective, blog-style writing, I wanted to provide something a bit more informative.

I've been so very lucky to be surrounded by a whole village of supporters through my IVF journey. Not a day went by without an encouraging text message, a thoughtful word, or a $5 Venmo so I could treat myself to a little coffee pick-me-up.

I know that a good number of those of you who've subscribed are not members of the infertility community yourselves, but more than likely, know and love someone who is.

Let me first say: Thank you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for caring so much about someone on the journey that you have committed to learning more about what it's like.

I would not have been able to persevere through the tumultuous ups and downs of treatment and loss without the people in my corner. And you are that very person for someone else (or maybe even for me too). We need you. And we love you.

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A few months after my first miscarriage, as I was gearing up for another transfer, my best friend said something to me that really hurt my feelings. She and I communicate in the language of emotion. We are—and always have been—birds of a feather, two peas in a pod—all of the things. She knows me better than most people, which is why neither of us could understand the disconnect that seemed to creep in while I was navigating the trenches of IVF.

In the aftermath, she said, "I feel like I don't know how to talk to you anymore."

And she had a point. I was deeply sensitive. Exhausted. Grieving. I couldn't be on social media for fear of scrolling across a pregnancy announcement. And seeing a pregnant woman out and about in the world felt like a personal attack on my own perceived inability. I was, to put it lightly, in a very fragile place.

I didn't have the gentle edges of retrospect to understand then what I do now: that everyone is just trying their best.

So, in an attempt to build a bridge where there is too often disconnect, I compiled a list of things that many people who haven't walked this road don't realize could be hurtful to someone navigating infertility and loss, as well as ideas for what you might say instead.

**Important Disclaimer** If you have said any of the things below, it's okay. Me too. This is not intended to shame you. Like I mentioned before, we're all just doing the best we can. And when we know better, we can do better. So as you continue reading, be kind to yourself.

1. Everything happens for a reason.

This was especially hurtful to hear in the wake of my miscarriages. It made me feel like losing my babies was somehow supposed to happen, and that it was up to me to find the meaning in it, rather than grieve the reality of it. As a fixer myself, I know how hard it can be to just sit with someone in their pain and not have any solution to offer. But sometimes—especially in the wake of grief—a comforting presence is exactly what they need.

What you can say instead: This is really painful. I'm so sorry you're going through this. I'm here for you.

2. You can just have one of my kids!

This is neither a genuine offer, nor a helpful suggestion to someone who wants a child more than almost anything else. It comes across like a complaint about how difficult kids are, which, while it may be true, is not particularly encouraging.

What you can say instead: I understand if it's hard to be around people with kids right now. I hope you know that you can always tell me if you don't feel like talking about or seeing my kids during this time.

3. Your time is coming soon—I know it!

   While I resonate with the desire to encourage and uplift someone in this way, it is not something that you can actually promise. Hope is one of the most challenging parts of infertility, and it can be hurtful to offer a false sense of it.

   
   

   What you can say instead: I am holding onto so much hope for you through this journey.

4. Just relax—as soon as you stop thinking about it, it will surely happen.

   For me, this has also looked like people telling me stories of their sister's boyfriend's cousin who tried for 10+ years to conceive and then decided to throw in the towel, and magically got pregnant the next week. It's important to remember that the specifics of everyone's infertility are different. Some may have medical reasons why it would be physically impossible to conceive without scientific intervention. This is also not something you can guarantee, and only serves to make the person you are trying to support feel like they are not doing enough.

   
   

   What you can say instead: I'm sure it's heavy to be thinking about this all the time. Let me know if you want to talk about something else, or if there is anything we can do together that might take your mind off of it for a while.

5. Trust God's timing. He has a plan.

For those in faith communities, this feels a bit like an accusation. Like I'm not trusting God enough. Like I'm a bad Christian. Like if I could just be better at relying on God, then I would be able to get/stay pregnant.

What you can ask instead: How has this experience affected your faith? It's okay to be angry. God is big enough to hold however you feel about this.

And one final catch-all: it meant a lot to me when the people in my life said things like, "I'm not exactly sure how to talk about this with you," just like my best friend did. It showed me that they didn't want to hurt me, and also that they had an attitude of learning.

If you have a close relationship with someone navigating infertility, don't assume that they don't want to talk about it! Everyone has a different way of coping, but here are some questions you can ask to figure out what they want and need:

• How much do you want to talk about this?

• Is it helpful for me to check in periodically, or do you want to tell me when you feel like talking about it?

• What areas of this journey are helpful to talk about? Are there certain things you don't want to discuss?

• Will you please tell me if I overstep or hurt your feelings?

• What can I do to support you during this time?

In my experience, I have found that saying something is almost always better than saying nothing or pretending like it doesn't exist. I certainly can't speak for everyone in the infertility community, but I hope that for most of us, this is a good starting point.

Once again, thank you for being the sort of person who wants to learn how to love the folks in your life well. We are all better off because of it.

Comment below or shoot me a direct message if you have follow-up questions, or if there is anything you would add to this list! ♥