Another "closet?"

This post was written in late March, but I am only getting to post it right now...

Well, I'm in full swing of Spring Break and, while it's not as eventful as I had hoped, we're having a good enough time of relaxing and getting some housework done.

My email inbox has been flooded lately with messages from Resolve gearing up for National Infertility Awarenesss Week in April. Just like last year, this brings up a mixed bag of emotions for me, particularly involving my privacy about my IF.

Right now, only my closest relatives know about our struggle. My mom, my two closest aunts, my "couslings" (my cousins that are so close, they are like siblings), and my dad are the only ones who know, and a handful of friends. I sometimes think that it must be "out" by now considering how long it's been since we were married and the fact that so many people do know, but many of C's relatives continue to ask questions and aassume we're waiting, so I guess not...

Anyway, I was reminded of something very insightful that a grad school professor once said about prejudice. During a conversation about prejudice and racism, several students made some grandiose claims about what the "worst" kind of prejudice is. My professor, who was one if the most brilliant and inspiring that I have ever had, happened to be gay. She said that she would never quantify what was worse or harder than something else, but there is one definitive way that being gay is different than a given race or ethnicity. She said that while your appearance may not announce your affiliation, like race obviously does, there is an enormous and undeniable fear that even those closest to you might reject you or judge you when they find out. Throughout your life, your race is known to those around you and your family is generally of the same background. But when you're gay, you can try to hide it, or you can face that fear head-on. As a friend and family member to many gay people and an outspoken supporter, I found this incredibly wise and thought-provoking.

Just like my professor, I will never attempt to quantify a particular experience, but there are certain parallels with infertility that are worth discussing. First of all, there is always a choice to hide your infertility, or to come out and discuss it. I have decided that I will only share my diagnosis and my struggle with those who are closest to me for now because, admittedly, I fear judgement from others about my choices. I also find the questions painful, even if they are well-intentioned. Once we have success, however, I will share the long journey with more people and I will have no fear of their judgment because I will have a little person in my life who proves that I made the right choices.

Similar to my professor's comment is the fear that even those closest to you may reject your choices or foist their opinions on to you. Those friends and relatives who I have told are the ones I knew would be 100% supportive and had no agenda. I also knew that they loved me and C enough to let us make the choices and not to pry. Those who do not know, however, are the ones for whom I had some doubts. C's family is not only Catholic, but supremely fertile, while C and I seem to be both supremely un-Catholic and supremely un-fertile. His parents also are completely broke, by their own choices, I must add, and I'm sure would have a thing or two to say about our spending $1000s on what came to them for free... seven times over. I really don't need their opinions and prying any more than I am already getting it.

My family, on my dad's side at least, also has it's religious wing. I have never bothered to consider what their views are on IVF, IUI or ART in general, and I really don't care right now, so they can wait, too.

As many people as there are who push us to "just adopt" out of either opposition to reproductive medicine or some compassion for kids who "need homes," there are just as many people who would impose philosophical objections on that adoption. There is a significant movement of people out there who would judge, even hate us for raising a child of a different race. I even fear that C in particular would face some serious rejection from his own family and co-workers. Even if the child were white, there are many in our lives who I fear ould not consider the child he same way. Again, the judgement of infertility can be sneaky, hidden and embedded into your own family and friends.

During National Infertility Awareness Week, I would like to embrace the notion that there is no shame in infertility, a notion that I whole-heartedly believe. On the other hand, I also believe that my infertility is also my own and I can choose to deal with it in any way that I choose. That's the double-edged sword of so-called "awareness" movements. There is no shame in it and I would love to own it and march on Washington, but I also need to do what is best for me to deal with it in the now.

So, for the time being, it's going to remain private. I will post here about NIAW, but there will be no Facebook campaigns for me. When we do finally have success, I feel like it will be such a blessing and release, not only that we finally get to have our child, but also that we can unburden ourselves of this semi-secret that we've held onto for so long.