4 things your infertile friend wants you to know.

In 2019 we had been trying for a baby for 4 years. For 4 years I had witnessed pregnancy announcement after pregnancy announcement and peed on that many sticks that I am probably solely responsible for most of the plastic in the ocean.

We then went to a fertility specialist and received the most horrific news. I couldn't have children. At the time I couldn't imagine anything more devastating and even now, four long years later, it still hurts sometimes. Here are the four things I want my friends to know.

1. I love you.

This first one is really hard. My friends are all in their twenties and early thirties, they are all settling down and making those big commitments. They're talking about getting married and starting families and every time it comes up, I die a little bit inside.

I love my friends, I want them to be happy and have all of their dreams come true. But the closer they come to having children, the harder it is for me. With each conversation I am reminded of how drastically different our lives will be in the next couple of years and I can't help but be jealous.

I wanted beautiful pink babies, I wanted the late nights and early mornings and to be covered in vomit. When you are told you can't have children, the switch in your brain doesn't switch. You still have the same dreams.

2. Guilt - Pregnancy announcements

My niece has just announced she is pregnant and now I have to distance myself. I don't physically have to, but for my own mental health I need to stay away. The gnawing grief is just too much to handle.

It is strange being infertile and experiencing grief. It's different to any other grief I have experienced. I lost my Dad young. I didn't have to avoid every other Dad I knew because of that grief. But this... every pregnant woman I see puts me in agony. It's incredibly painful even four years on.

As much as possible, I try to surround myself with people who choose not to have children because it is more comfortable.

3. Grief and Acceptance

Some days I can accept not having children. Some days it is a bit easier and I think of the positive elements to being child-free. Last minute travel for example, being able to look after myself when I am ill, having more money... there are a few. I repeat them over and over in my head, trying to convince myself that I am okay with it.

Then other days, I look at my partner and think of how much I love him and what he would be like as a Dad to our son or daughter. I think about what Christmas morning would look like and about how we would parent a toddler or a teenager and the grief is unbearable again.

4. Triggered

Please, please, please don't complain to me about your pregnancy or about your baby/toddler. I understand you have probably been up all night, your ankles are swollen and you are missing wine. But for the love of God don't do it. I would give anything to have a baby, even if it meant they were up every night with colic, were allergic to everything and screamed the house down. I would give anything to see my growing baby bump even if it meant vomiting every meal for the entire pregnancy.

You are very much entitled to your experience and I am sorry you are suffering but I am not your person to vent to on this occasion. You have other people you can vent to. Please pick one of those.