FAQs from 2020-2022 a.k.a. Stories I Told to Guard My Heart

The Lesson Learned

I believe there is no use in hiding your messes, your struggles, your trying-to-figure-outs, your biggest fears, or your greatest hopes. In my experience, you can either choose to take on the world by yourself or have the support of everyone you know behind you along the way.

Knowing what I know now, I would have shared my story sooner. Instead, I hid it in a million little ways for years — partly to guard my heart, partly to attempt to live a “normal” life, and perpetually to plan for an ideal future state that I had no control over. It was as if having a baby didn’t pan out, I wouldn’t have to backtrack on my story. I now believe there is no way to fully live your life if you are only partly sharing your story. 

The Journey

For the first two years of our infertility journey, I chose to live what felt like two parallel lives: reality and future state. Here are a few of the frequently asked questions I got and how I used to answer them.

Why did you get another dog?

The story I told for two years: George was a pandemic puppy. We were bored and stuck at home, and he needed a home!

The truth: We were 3 months into learning that we had a 3% chance of having children naturally. Add a global pandemic on top of that and a second dog sounded like the perfect distraction and trial child.

Are you planning to have kids?

The story I told for two years: Someday!

The truth: I’ve been pregnant five times with no babies to show for it, but that feels like way more information than you’re asking to know. Also, don’t ask someone this question unless you’ve already lived together, cried together, and/or taken a teenage blood pact together.

Why did you buy another house in your same neighborhood?

The story I told for two years: It has two offices, and now that we both work from home we need that space.

The truth: I was seven weeks pregnant with our first child and we needed another bedroom. The crib our sweet friends gave us still sits unassembled in the closet of that new second bedroom.

Why aren’t you drinking?

The half-truth I told on and off for two years: I take medications that don’t allow me to drink alcohol.

The truth: At any given time I was either 

a) going through an IVF egg retrieval and on meds, b) going through a surgery and on meds, 

c) going through an embryo transfer and on meds,  

d) pregnant and on meds, or

e) pretending to do a “dry January” but actually drinking because it was the only time I could. 😉

Why are you taking a vacation in the midst of a pandemic? Do you think it’s safe?

The story I told every time we traveled: We just love to explore!

The truth: When you’ve put everything in your life on hold for medical appointments every week for months on end and you finally get a break (because things didn’t work, again), you need and deserve to escape to someplace beautiful. And also, we love to explore.

Why can’t you travel to <insert any country with Zika> for <insert many fun trips I’ve declined>?

The half-truth I told for two years: I wish I could make it, but I won’t be able to.

The truth: I wish I could make it, but I won’t be able to…because Zika can live in your body undetected for up to six months so most Reproductive Endocrinologists won’t proceed with IVF for that period after you return from a country known to have Zika, and we aren’t willing to put off starting our family for even longer than we’ve already had to wait.

Why did you have to cut that trip/dinner/event short?

The story I told every time it happened: Some version of needing to help my parents with something vague (thanks Mom & Dad for being my unknowing scapegoats).

The truth: This is when I started telling a few people close to me because I just couldn’t hide it anymore. Making plans and keeping them is nearly impossible when going through fertility treatments. 

I’ve had to leave a wedding I was in to give myself injections, depart a weekend adventure at the crack of dawn to get back for a pregnancy blood test, leave a work trip with a few minutes’ notice to get back for a doctor’s appointment to confirm a miscarriage, and turn down so many opportunities because I didn’t want to disappoint people by cancelling on them later. 

I used to feel ashamed about all of these stories (and many more) I’ve told, but I hope sharing the truth helps people understand the realities of infertility (and many other medical treatments). I am privileged and lucky that I was able to do so much to still be “in control” of my circumstances — like buying a house, leaving work whenever I needed to, and having a strong support system. 

And to that support system: Thank you for giving me grace. 🧡