Article About Relationships

Being a Good Friend to Someone Struggling with Fertility
By Jen Jobart November 18th, 2006

You may know someone who is experiencing infertility: perhaps someone you work with, an old friend from high school, or someone from your book club. While infertility is a tremendously difficult experince for those going through it, it can also be challenging for friends and family to know what to say - and what not to say - in order to be a good friend.

Over the past few years, I’ve come to realize that I am one of the millions of women struggling with infertility. It takes a special person to be a good friend to me right now, or to anyone who is having trouble becoming or staying pregnant. Our friends have to participate in endless conversations about cervical mucus quality, watch us analyze variations in basal body temperatures, and sit through slideshows of our laparoscopy photos. (Just kidding about the slideshows - most of the time.)

I’ve been trying, unsuccessfully, to get pregnant for far longer than I ever thought was possible. It’s been hell. I consider myself a fairly thick-skinned person, but because of what I’m going through, the tiniest things can really set me off. And there are things I hear on a regular basis that are infuriating and sometimes even hurtful. Every time I hear them, I want to tear my hair out. There’s a good chance your friend feels the same way.

I know it’s hard to work out what to say to someone who’s grappling with infertility, and to choose the right time to say it. And of course, every person is different. Things that upset me might not bother your friend, and things I don’t mind hearing might drive her crazy. I trust that you’ll do the best you can to be sensitive to her needs, even if it goes against everything I say here.

That said, I’ve written up a list of the clichés and uninformed comments I wish people would stop saying to me. Hopefully this list will make it easier to avoid landmines in conversations with your friend. After I’ve explained why I don’t like hearing those phrases, I talk about other things that are helpful to say and do. And finally, I give my two cents about a touchy issue – how to tell an infertile person that you’re pregnant.

Things not to say

There are some standard catchphrases and suggestions that people who are not familiar with the struggles of infertility seem to trot out on a regular basis. Despite the fact that they are said often, they are not good things to hear.

“Just relax and it will happen”

Infertility is a diagnosable medical condition. It is not a state of mind. Granted, relaxing is never a bad idea. But relaxing, in and of itself, does not cure medical conditions such as cancer. Nor does it cure infertility.

Every time someone tells me to relax, it actually just makes me more stressed out. Even though I know better, I think “If only I could relax, I could get pregnant!” And then I get stressed out because I’m not relaxed. It’s a vicious circle.

As one of my friends says, anyone who tells people struggling with infertility to “Just relax,” no matter how potentially medically justified, should be forced to take a dump while someone stands beside them hollering “Just shit!”

“Maybe you’re just not meant to be parents.”

Would you tell a person with cancer that their disease is a “sign” they aren’t meant to live?

“Why don’t you just adopt?”

My struggles with fertility have taught me that it is much more important to me than I realized to know what it’s like to grow a human being inside of me. To feel a baby suckling at my breast. To watch a child grow up who shares my husband’s and my features and personality traits, and know that we made that child together.

On a practical note, adoption can cost many thousands of dollars - between 15 and 45 thousand, according to the research I’ve done. It can take very a long time – 2 years or more. The adoption process involves an incredible amount of paperwork, questions about every aspect of your life, more waiting, and the potential for more heartache if a birth mother changes her mind. Yes, we will adopt, when we’re ready, but we’re not. I’d rather not have to defend my reticence for now.

If I do finally decide to move on to adoption, please don’t tell me stories about how other people have gotten pregnant right after signing up to adopt. It’s extremely unlikely that that will happen to me.

“Try to enjoy the process.”

Taking my temperature the moment I wake up and peeing on ovulation prediction sticks every morning to figure out where I am in my cycle isn’t a lot of fun. And having day after day of timed sex in the middle of the week when you’re tired from work and aren’t in the mood isn’t exactly the same thing as having spontaneous romantic sex. Even if making a baby was sexy and exciting at the start, it certainly isn’t any more.

“I think you should…” or “All you need to do is…”

The only people I want to hear these phrases from are doctors, people going through the same process, or people I’ve asked. Please don’t give unsolicited advice.

“God, I wish I could have a baby for you!”

While my better self is pleased that you are so fertile, I’d prefer to have a baby on my own for the reasons I shared above. And I do understand that what you are trying to say is “I feel terrible for you and wish there was something I could do to fix it”. But if that’s what you mean, just say something to that effect. No offers of uterus-loaning required.

“It’ll happen.”

This is a corollary of “just relax.” Some people find this reassuring. I don’t. You don’t actually know that it will happen for us. While I understand that you feel optimistic, it doesn’t really change my situation.

“You know, my friend’s cousin took this pill, and…”

Chances are, if you know someone who knows someone who’s tried acupuncture/Clomid/just relaxing/Robitussin to increase cervical mucus production, I’ve heard of that process/drug/trick/remedy too. Perhaps I’ve even tried it myself. Again, if you’re not a professional or someone I’ve asked for help, please don’t give advice.

“Have you seen a doctor?”

Unless you are my very best friend and you know for a fact I haven’t seen a doctor, and you know I’ve been trying to conceive for a while, and you are fairly sure I have no idea that there are doctors out there who deal with this kind of thing, please don’t ask this question. Yes, I’ve been to a doctor. And if I haven’t, it’s because I’m not ready to deal with it. When I’m ready, I know how to make an appointment.

“Those really aren’t miscarriages, you know. They happen to everyone.”

I know that early pregnancy testing makes it possible to detect pregnancies that would otherwise have gone undetected (sometimes called chemical pregnancies). Telling me that it happens to everyone, that it probably happened to you several times (but you just didn’t test early) isn’t helpful. I tested early; I was hopeful; the pregnancy didn’t continue. Plenty of people get pregnant and stay pregnant, and I’m not one of them.

Telling me that I should just stop testing early isn’t helpful either. After an early pregnancy or two, I can tell when I’m pregnant even before testing. And it can be helpful for me and/or my doctor to know when and how things fall apart, so the early testing might be something I’m doing as part of my fertility treatment.

“Take my kids. You might change your mind about whether you want any.”

Do not EVER offer me your children, even jokingly. This is degrading to your children and to your gift of parenthood. It’s also the opposite of being supportive and sensitive to my situation. I know parenting can be incredibly difficult sometimes. But like you, I’ve decided I want to experience pregnancy and parenthood. Please don’t talk about it like it’s no big deal. It is to me.

“You seem really different these days.”

I know that what I say and how I act may change from day to day and from month to month. Don’t assume that my current state of mind is any indication of a permanent personality trait or change. I’m experiencing a deeply painful set of circumstances that are completely beyond my control. The things I say right now are a reflection of how I am feeling, not who I am.

“Are you seeing a therapist?”

Unless I regularly talk to you about my mental health, please don’t question my coping skills either directly or indirectly (by asking me if I’m seeing a therapist, or suggesting books on how to deal with things.) If I’m not curled up in the fetal position in the corner, I’m using coping strategies that work for me.

Also, don’t be surprised if you hear me refer to my situation black humor or sarcasm. These are normal coping mechanisms, not indications that I need help.

My caveat applies here: you know your friend better than I do. If you’re truly worried for her, and she’s not the take-charge type, it may be best to check in with her from time to time.

“Don’t you think you should be over this by now?”

The grieving process for infertility is particularly hard because those who go through it are forced to come to terms with their loss every month. We just about pick up the pieces of our lives, and then we get our period again. Everyone grieves differently, and everyone takes a different length of time to work through the stages of accepting loss. Also, please remember that anger is a normal and healthy stage of grief. Appropriately expressed anger is far healthier than pent up, unexpressed anger.

Things that are nice to hear

Just like there are things I hear often that are not helpful, there are things it would be nice to hear that I don’t hear often enough.

“How are things going?”

If I’ve told a friend that I’ve had trouble getting pregnant, I really appreciate when they ask how it’s going from time to time, in a low-key way. Email works best for me, because then I can deal with any emotional responses privately. Just a “What’s new on the baby front” kind of sentence is great. If I don’t feel like responding, it’s not a good idea to push it. But it helps to know that people are thinking about me and want to know how things are going.

If such an email or comment sparks me to talk, it’s best when my friends just listen and are supportive - whatever I’m in the mood to talk about. My friends have learned that what I say can change drastically from day to day. That’s what my moods are doing, so my conversation topics usually follow suit.

“Are you doing okay?”

It’s really important for people to ask me how I’m holding up. There’s rarely any news on the baby front, and even if by some miracle I do manage to get and stay pregnant, I might not want to tell anyone about it for several months. But how I’m doing emotionally… it does me so much good to talk about that, and hardly anyone thinks to ask. You’d be a true friend if you did.

If there are unexpected babies/pregnant women around, it’s nice when my friends keep an eye out for me, knowing I might need to bail. But please don’t check on me afterwards if I seem to be acting normally. It’s nice to have someone watching your back, but often it’s just easier to pretend that nothing happened. Personally, I don’t want or need to process every encounter. I just want out.

“Want to grab a drink sometime?”

I really appreciate the people who can just keep being my friend, same as always, when I’m up for it. Sometimes it’s possible to feel normal, and if my friends can conveniently forget the fact that I’ve been a recluse for a while, we usually have a really good time. It’s hard to predict when these times will come, but if you can avoid mentioning the multiple personalities, it’s much more likely.

"I recently found out I’m pregnant. What’s the best way to break the news to my friend?"

It can be difficult for me to see or be around pregnant women or babies. The birth of a new baby is certainly an occasion for joy, but it’s also a painful reminder of something I desperately want to experience but can’t.

Some people have no problem hearing news of their friends’ pregnancies, and don’t take it badly at all. Others have a really hard time with pregnancy announcements. As always, you’re the best judge of your friend’s situation. If you’re not completely sure that she will have no problems whatsoever with your announcement, you may wish to tread lightly.

Here is how I’d prefer that you break the good news to me:

Email is best, because it gives me time to process the news. If email is not possible, a phone call is the next best option. Understand that, regardless of what my reaction might be, I am very happy for you, especially if you’re a person I care about; I’m just sad for myself.

Just tell me once, and then try not to talk about it unless I bring it up. I know it’s an important time for you, as well it should be, but hopefully there are other people in your life who can be your support group, and who will have unbridled enthusiasm for you. I am not that person right now.

Most of all, please do not complain to me about being pregnant. I would give my right arm and be seriously morning sick for 9 months straight if I knew it would give me a chance to have a baby. I have zero tolerance for pregnancy complaints.

Please don’t take it personally if I don’t come to your baby shower, or if I’m not around as much as I used to be. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I just can’t handle showers and baby stuff right now.

If I do find the strength to come and visit, hold your baby, send you a gift, talk to you about your pregnancy, or look at your baby photos, please understand that even if I’m making it seem like no big deal, it takes everything I’ve got and more. I will probably go home and cry, for hours or days. I don’t want you to feel hurt or worry about me; I just want you to recognize that the time I spend with you and your baby speaks volumes about how much I care about you.

I hope that what I’ve shared here helps you find the right words to support and comfort your friend. Most of all, I want you to know that your friend needs you, your support, your patience and your forgiveness more than ever right now. If she’s anything like me, she doesn’t want you to fix things for her, or to ‘handle’ her or her emotions. She just wants you to try to understand.

Although it may seem like there isn’t anything you could possibly say that would be right, please don’t avoid your friend, or walk on eggshells around her. And even if you screw up from time to time, please keep trying.

Finally, if you can’t be comfortable around your friend, please let her know honestly and gracefully that you need to step back from the friendship for awhile. It might hurt now, but in the future she’ll appreciate it. You can forgive each other for any misunderstandings when this is all over.