Can we talk about conception?
Can we talk about conception? No, not the one night stand whoopsie, or the planned to perfection, right down the the chosen C-section birthday. Let’s chat about the confusion, the doctors appointments, the waitlists (Oh my God, the waitlists!). Let’s chat about the disappointment, the feigning optimism, and the absolutely crushing pressure that builds in your chest when you wake up to find the too-familiar signs of your period beginning.
Society and medicine give us two polarizing messages. The first is the expected course of action. Finish high school, get some kind of further qualifications, find a job, (realize you hate it), find a career, travel, be a strong independent woman. Then, when all is said and done, find a life partner and settle down. In this decade we are not required by society to have a husband and get married, but to find someone to love and share your life with. All by the age of 40. But 40 is the new 30, isn’t it?
The other message, the one given to women by medicine, is “don’t wait to long.” I remember sitting in high school biology class, and the teacher saying to us horrified sixteen year old’s, that now was the perfect time in our lives, biologically speaking, to have a baby. This was mortifying to many of the young virgins in the room. (It was also ironic, with the amount of pregnant girls who had to leave our school).
“Yes, 10 is young to start Menstruating.” “Your tests indicate that you do have polycystic ovary syndrome” – age 15. “Your procedure confirmed the presence of endometriosis” – age 18. The doctors made it pretty clear from the get go that I would have issues with fertility. I knew this, I accepted this, it was all just a normal part of the process. As I got older, the GPs would give me contradictory messages. “Oh, you are young, you have plenty of time.” I swear the very next visit the same doctor asked me if I had plans to start a family, and to hurry up. The sheer frustration of it!
Can we fast forward in time now, past the IUDs, the travel, the career, the wedding. I didn’t intend to follow the outlines society had provided, it just happened that way. I am one of the lucky ones, because I am happy. There is just one problem, and that is what comes next. The baby. Or babies. Mine is a story of you always want what you can’t have. Well, we will have it! The beautiful, big family. Yes, my partner and I are ready, we are determined and we keep hitting road blocks.
Statistics New Zealand says that fertility rates in under 30s are decreasing, and over 30s increasing. It shows us that the number of children woman are having overall, is decreasing. A fertility website I looked at showed a pretty graph, showing a sharp decline in the chance of conception for women over the age of 32. Yet society wants us to wait.
Now, I knew things would be difficult. I knew this from day one. I was not expecting a miracle, an immaculate conception. But I was surprised about a few things. For the record, I officially started my baby-journey at age 27. One year later, and I feel like my uterus is as empty as the chocolate stash which once resided in my pantry (which, for the record, has now moved to my stomach, hips and thighs).
What I want to know is: WHY DOES NO BODY TALK ABOUT THIS?
I knew I would have problems, but seriously people? We live in an amazing time of digital communication, feminism, fearless role models. Our Prime Minister had a baby while in office for crying out loud. I get, that many women don’t want to share the journey. It’s absolutely devastating to pee on that little stick and be so let down by the results that you want to cuddle into your duvet for a month and never move. But where is the support? Where is the love? Where is the community and women empowering women?
Now, I must say, the woman who are of the menopausal age, the grandparent age, they are lovely and supportive and will tell you their stories. The are fabulous matriarchs. But times have changed, society has changed. We, as women, have changed. I want to talk to the girls who are going through this NOW.
Over summer, I took a road trip to my home town. I visited three girlfriends, all with children under 2. And sure, it hurt a bit seeing their gorgeous little families, but it also gave me hope. We did the usual “Oh, you’ll be next” banter and backchat, and when I admitted that we had been trying (unsuccessfully), the opened up about their own journeys. Miscarriages, clomiphene, laparoscopies, tube flushing, sex on schedule. I spoke with a friend and her husband who went through the IVF process. I talked to a family friend who had a bottle-of-red baby. It was so refreshing to hear these woman speak openly and freely about their experiences. For each mother, it had happened differently. For each mother, they had their highs and lows, a whole process to which, they promised, the end result was worth it. It felt so good to talk about it! To have my questions answered without judgement, without medical terms being thrown at me. Yes! I was not alone. I had always known there were others, but no one ever speaks about it until after.
Why is this a taboo subject? People ask all the time when we are planning on having kids. The comment not to wait too long. Now, I am a pretty open and honest person. I can be quite in your face and blunt at times. But I learnt here, to dodge the question, not to answer and shy away. I respect that many women choose not to speak about this. It can be heartbreaking and emotionally draining. When I did speak honestly, “Oh, we are just having some difficulties…” The questioner looks awkward, adverts their gaze and changes the subject. Maybe I want to talk about it? Maybe I want to relate to other women? Maybe I want to talk to a father, or potential father, who had difficulties, about their experience so I can support my own partner.
Don’t get me wrong. I 100% respect a person’s right to keep the conception process to herself. Everyone has their own voice, and they can choose to use it, or not to. For those who want it, who need it – can we open a dialogue? A place of normality in society where we can discuss the hot flushes of the hormone treatments, where we can bitch about the 2 year IVF waitlist (or the $25k fee), the endless blood tests. Can we complain to our friends about having sex on our ovulation dates, despite having a cold and being exhausted from work. Can we chat over a decafe latte about the internal ultrasounds and the trainee who got lube all over you. Can we discuss our hopes and dreams, about the cousins we are trying to provide our nieces and nephews, about the whole circus of hoops we have to jump through, so that at the end of the day, we know we are not alone…
Let’s talk about conception.