Infertility, grief, and post-partum hysterectomy: An open letter to those who have suffered an unwanted hysterectomy while having a baby
As someone who was made permanently infertile at age 24 by blocked tubes, I feel I have to write something to educate this group about sensitivity. The issues surrounding the grief that comes with our tragedy of loss of fertility has a lot to do with what our expectations were and how invested we were in our fertility and subsequent children. Let me explain:
It is the same for everyone — if you are invested in having a child, you will grieve the inability to have one, whether the inability is caused by unexplained infertility, miscarriage or an unwanted hysterectomy. In addition, every conception — or even trying to conceive — comes with an emotional investment.
Thus, when someone has tried for three years to have a baby, finally gets pregnant and then loses the pregnancy at three months, there is tremendous grief because the emotional investment was so high. On the other hand, if you don't want to be pregnant and only find out that you are pregnant when you are three months along and in the process of miscarrying, you may not feel grief at all!
The duration of the pregnancy does not determine how much somebody grieves or how great a loss it is. I have noticed that some of you are saying that you are jealous of women who miscarry because "at least they can get pregnant." Well, that's true, and, yes, they may be able to have another child, while we cannot, ever.
However, to them — and this is the really important part — they have lost a baby — a real baby, not a fake baby, or a part baby, or an insignificant baby. Even a blighted ovum or a molar pregnancy has been perceived as a real pregnancy, and along with a pregnancy that is desired, go all the hopes and dreams of the future child. Going to term does not/should not be the determining factor in whether or not you can be compassionate toward someone who has miscarried. Going to term just means that the parents *may* be more invested in the child due to the length of time they have put it waiting for the baby's arrival.
Here's the litmus test: Ask yourself what you would say to someone at the funeral of her child. If you wouldn't say it there, don't say it to someone who has had a miscarriage. Try not to even think it. Multiple miscarriages are often experienced as losing multiple children — because they are, in fact, losing multiple, very wanted babies. Unrelenting fertility is like experiencing the grief of losing a child over and over. I could SCREAM about this.
Most infertile women would gladly give up their uteruses in order to have even one healthy baby. They may be insanely jealous of us. They can't stand to even walk by the playgrounds. They ache to be included, even once, in such a group.
Don't misunderstand. I think we should be honest with ourselves about our jealousies and bad feelings about others — it is a normal part of the grieving process. But please try not to generally begrudge other people their good fortune.
The good news is that these bad feelings will ease with time. After dealing with these issues for a couple of decades, I have found that I don't have those jealous feelings much anymore. That doesn't mean I am not devastated by my personal losses. I am. But I don't feel horrible at the sight of a pregnant woman. Of course, it gives me pause, but I don't dwell. I don't hate to be around babies. I don't take offense at "small talk" about babies and plans for babies, etc. These remarks are usually just friendly banter.
Long ago, I came up with a bunch of snappy, but vague comebacks to help me deal with the social awkwardness of answering questions about my plans for parenthood.
"Do you want to have children?" "Are you planning on number 2?" — I would answer with:
"We'd love to have (more) children, but it's rather difficult for us right now." (No one would know if I were talking about money, a fertility issue, or the fact that I couldn't find a surrogate. It's an all purpose answer, and the beauty of it is that it was totally true.) I never had anyone say anything in response, or question me further — which corroborates my belief that these questions are nothing more than a socially acceptable way of "breaking the ice" for most people.
You may surprise yourself as time goes on and find yourself innocently blurting out a similar question. I did a couple of times, and I really do know better — but it's like talking about the weather — it's practically programmed into us as a conversational "filler" in certain social situations. Please try not to read into it that someone is grossly insensitive.
Now, sometimes people are grossly insensitive — but never underestimate how much simple stupidity might be playing into someone's remarks. That moron co-worker who was kidding about how someone who had just undergone an unwanted hysterectomy might end up with eight kids, might — and I know this is almost impossible to believe — just be a total ignoramus about the facts of life.
He might have thought a hysterectomy was some sort of super fertility treatment. I kid you not, I have come across many dopes like this. Most people, for example, have NO IDEA how infertility treatments work. When you start talking about a treatment, they may be thinking, "My God, she'll be having quintuplets." Or who knows what. They really don't get it, and they can say and assume really stupid things sometimes.
I also think that crap will happen to EVERYONE eventually. If it's not infertility, it might be cancer or losing loved ones or a terrible accident. No one escapes suffering in this life (except maybe psychopaths). So, if it's any consolation, you will in time find that terrible things happen to these people who right now make you so jealous.
Best to all,
~M
