Grace in the Storm

I haven't felt like I've had a lot to say lately. Life is pretty regular, normal, every day kind of stuff right now, or as my friend  Jennie says, BAU- Business As Usual. That's us for sure. But last night, I was scrolling through Facebook before going to bed, you know, just in case anything really important happened like another dozen people dumped water on their heads. I ran into a post that really got me stirred up. And sadly, I was embarrassed on behalf on the infertility community.

Okay, so a little background: For those of you who don't follow Georgia news, you may not have heard of Tripp Halstead, but anyone around Atlanta has probably followed the story to some degree. Almost two years ago, a little boy (Tripp) was playing outside at his daycare when strong winds caused a large branch to fall on the two year old's head. Tripp spent a long time in the hospital and the injury has been a life altering event for his family. Last night, an update from his mom just happened to pop up in my news feed. Apparently, she's been undergoing some type of infertility treatment and her most recent (and according to Tracy her last) cycle failed. She posted a heartfelt comment about the situation.

Tracy's page has over a million followers, so you can imagine she received quite a number of comments on a post like that. As of a few moments ago, there are over 1,100. It should also not be surprising that the majority of her followers are not infertile... her story, her page is about her son, not infertility. As such, many of the comments are from people who have absolutely no idea what infertility is like nor what they should or should not say. Here are a few of the comments:

If it's God's will, it'll happen.

Why don't you adopt?

Lots of really helpful stuff here. Some "if it's meant to happen, it will." Quite a number of stories about a friend of a friend who stopped treatment and then "poof. pregnant just like that." And then everyone's favorite, "you can always adopt." I actually found a few, "you know if you adopt, you'll probably get pregnant." The comments make me want to gag. They are awful, hurtful, unhelpful. But here's the thing: just about every commenter is saying something from a place of compassion. They say something because they care. They say the wrong thing because they don't know any better.

Now I know that just about every infertility blogger has posted their own version of What to Say to Your Infertile Friend and Resolve has a really helpful list on the website. But here's the thing, I don't think those of us dealing with infertility can expect the whole world to be well versed in this area. Some people are going to inadvertently say hurtful things when they are trying to help or comfort us. At that moment we have the opportunity to offer grace (and maybe a gentle education on etiquette) or we can turn into the stereotypical bitter infertile.

One such comment stirred up quite the controversy:

The dreaded: "Just relax"

Poor Reba had no idea what she was about to unleash. As of this morning, she had 44 comments to her comment, and there are quite a few other comments to the comments within her comment... essentially it's ugly. Quite a few infertile women went ballistic. And I get it. Sometimes if one more person tells me to relax OR that God will get me pregnant if He wants to OR that Sarah was 90 when she got pregnant, so I'm never too old... in those moments I've certainly wanted to punch the commenter in the face. Thus far, I've resisted, but it doesn't mean I haven't had the urge.

The truth of the matter is that social media and the invention of the "comment" has given everyone a good deal more courage and a lot less common sense. People write things that they would never actually say to someone face to face. Blood starts to boil as the comments add and pretty soon the most level-headed and kindhearted person is adding more fuel to the fire. It becomes kind of ridiculous. I almost found myself wanting to comment (which I never do) to douse the flames a bit and remind everyone that the point was never to create controversy, but rather support a woman who is hurting. Thankfully, I resisted as I'm sure it wouldn't have had the effect I was looking for, but rather incite further comment fury.

I'm a big proponent of Thumper's words of wisdom: "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all." However, I get that sometimes something does need to be said. There are occasions in life, when saying nothing does more harm than good... I'm not sure that this situation was one of those times, but regardless everyone involved could have handled the situation better. A woman was hurting because she found out that the treatment she had hoped would bring her a baby failed, her womb is still empty, and she felt as if that was her last chance to add to her family. The fighting and arguing about what is or is not helpful, insensitive, rude, etc. was really not necessary. Instead of finding comfort, Tracy found a lot of angry women using her space to engage in stupid, petty arguments. I was just so frustrated with the whole thing.

The more I read, the more I felt like the women who aren't infertile, were really frustrated with the women who are. Like as a group... not as an individual. That as a group we portray ourselves as bitter, angry women who are on the hunt and ready to jump down anyone's throat for saying the wrong thing. It broke my heart. I typically try to keep my blog true to it's title... I don't try to engage or incite arguments, but I do try my very best to be honest. But the truth is, some days I'm afraid to write what I really want because of this exact situation. I'm afraid that somewhere out there, there is a group of people just waiting, looking, searching for buzz words ready to blow up my comments section and make me and my friends feel guilty for various things like adoption and IVF and other controversial things. My biggest fear with the blog is to unintentionally and inadvertently give someone a platform to tear others down in the spirit of "free speech" and "open dialogue." So I all too often stay quiet to protect the innocent... my blog will never be a place intended for hate.

I was really disappointed in all of those involved in the situation last night. The whole situation could have been handled with a lot more grace by everyone. I hate to think that infertile women are out their giving me a bad name, as I would never want to do something that made anyone view infertility or my infertile sisters in a bad light. My goal is to shine a light on infertility, educate people about infertility, and offer support to anyone in need... not to bash people or create an environment where we all sit around and hate on fertile people. Because really, what's the point? Yes, there are jerks out there who will say rude and hurtful things just to be mean, but in my experience, nine times out of ten, the hurtful comment is made in ignorance. Attacking the person does zero good. It makes them defensive and makes us, as a community, look bad. There is a better solution. The truth is that infertile women often are bitter... I know I've been bitter often throughout these years. This journey is hard. This storm is fierce. But bitterness (particularly abusive, negative, hateful bitterness) will solve nothing, grace on the other hand will soften hearts. The comments people say do hurt and I do want to lash out, but I know that it will never help the situation. My wish would be that when people think of me that they would think "what a hard, long journey, but she handled it with so much grace. what a beautiful story." Admittedly, I don't always do that, but that would be my wish for anyone struggling with infertility, for us all as a community... that we would present ourselves well, that we would hold our heads high, but that we would engage with humble hearts.  No one wants to advocate for someone that they dislike, and the truth is, we can't create the change we want in our communities or within the government if people think all infertile women are hateful, spiteful, and bitter. I'm proud of the community, proud of my friends; I just want others to see us as I do.