My Fertility is None of Your Business

As printed in My Village News May 2021.

It can be really hard to get pregnant. That’s something teachers don’t jump at the chance to tell us about in high school. It’s not even something women or men really feel comfortable talking about as adults because it attacks our own sense of fertility, virility, potency, sexuality, health, lifestyle or personality. Even writing this frank column about it is difficult. And that’s sad really. Procreating is one of life’s common denominators. It’s an act as old as time and we could all feel a little less alone by sharing its struggles and triumphs.

But when I say we should talk about the making of babies I don’t mean asking, “So do you think you’ll have kids?” or “Will you have any more?”. Before getting married and having my own child I was guilty of asking questions like that of every newlywed couple I knew. What an idiot. I had no idea about the journey they could have been on.

In the last 12 months I have shared, alongside friends and acquaintances, the emotionally raw and tender pain of a miscarriage. Some kept theirs secret and that’s fine. I found catharsis in sharing my story in this column and with friends. I still come across people in my periphery who don’t know though and weekly I’m asked whether we’ll “have another one”. It’s painful every time.

Also in these moments time slows as poker machine wheels spin in my head to moderate my answer. I match up how I know this person, if we are close, if it will be awkward afterwards. It’s exhausting so I’ve found myself more often than not deferring to honesty: ask about my family planning with “how’s the weather” casualty and expect the stormy truth. It’s prompted some touching shared moments and other awkward I’m sorrys but hopefully also a lesson that’s unforgettable.