IN HER WORDS ANDREA BYRNE
THE INFERTILITY TABOO As Mother’s Day approaches ANDREA BYRNE writes about the isolation of trying for a baby
“Infertility... is often about death and grief”
I
wanted to write a slightly different column for this issue. My hope is that it might help people to seek support on their fertility journey and realise that it’s important to reach out when you are experiencing the challenging emotions which are common to so many couples trying to start a family. You are not alone. Our daughter, Jemima, has just turned one. It’s a milestone for any family. But for me and Lee, it means so much more than it will ever be possible to put into words. Most of our marriage has been spent navigating the emotional and physical challenges of trying to have a baby. And failing. We were told by several doctors, on numerous occasions, that due to complications with a defective womb lining, it was unlikely I would ever be able to carry a pregnancy. So, to have Jemima’s beautiful smile light up our days is nothing short of incredible. And proof that fertility science still has so much to learn because, in the end, she defied the odds and was conceived naturally. As we went through repeated treatments, operations and investigations month after month,
36 I CARDIFF LIFE I www.mediaclash.co.uk
and year after year, we only felt able to disclose it to a trusted and small circle of family, friends and colleagues. The physical strain of endless pills, injections and procedures is one thing. The mental and emotional anguish within your relationship, is quite another. With each cycle, came another stinging loss or disappointment to cope with and it became harder to raise our hopes, to follow our dream. The last thing we needed was the added pressure of everyone politely asking at the office watercooler how it was all going. As anyone living with infertility will understand, the emotions were raw and it was easier, instead, to shut down and try to stop it defining us. During those years, hard as it was, it was important that I still went to work, read the news, filmed documentaries and tried to maintain a different version of me, away from our private heartbreak. Lee would say the same about playing rugby. As I write this, Jemima is napping in her nursery. Her little coat is hanging in the hallway. I’m looking at a photograph of the three of us on the mantelpiece. Our dream, realised. Yet we still both find what we went through to get here, really difficult to talk about. Why? Because infertility is awkward. It’s often about death and grief – two more big taboos; it’s about mental health – which
society is only just starting to talk about; it’s about sex and intimacy – which we’ve never been good at talking about; and it involves a complicated science which is individual to each and every couple – which nobody wants to talk about because it’s, well, complicated. So it’s not surprising that we’d all rather talk about almost anything else. When it’s discussed in the press, infertility headlines are often about the number of cycles couples endure or the amount of money they’ve spent. This is relevant, of course, because it does touch every part of life and the longer it goes on, the more it affects finances, relationships, careers and mental and physical well-being. Everything is put on hold as a consequence of repeated treatments. However, it’s important to remember that every couple who experiences any kind of infertility has a unique journey, which is much more complex and personal to them than these basic numbers. Polycystic ovaries is infertility. Low sperm count is infertility. Miscarriage is infertility. Cancer could be infertility. It comes in so many different guises and affects men and women alike. My message to everyone is this. Yes, infertility is awkward. Yes, it is complicated. There are still many parts of our journey that remain very private to us. But, trust me, couples going through this will feel isolated, intensely
