I’m writing this blog to condemn myself. Condemn my fear.
I openly started talking about my infertility and IVF treatments only after I had my twins. Not that whenever I underwent any infertility treatments, I denied it, but I never blogged about it either. Perhaps I thought it’s only after you’re successful at something, do people take you seriously.
I see a lot of people around me shy away from admitting they had an IVF treatment or any infertility treatment. I wonder why? I partly got the answer from my own attitude. I only started openly and publicly talking about my infertility after successfully procreating. When we’re talking about hooking up or AF so openly, why not infertility? It’s human to have an inadequate body function, and it’s OK to get it medically treated.
But even I couldn’t talk about it earlier. Other than my understanding bosses (that too I had to share since I had erratic work timings while undergoing the treatment), I rarely spoke about infertility treatments with my colleagues or friends. And once when I didn’t have an understanding boss, I quit my job. Even though it was the biggest opportunity but I wanted to procreate desperately. Even while quitting, I didn’t have the courage to share the reason for leaving the job, so I lied.
Fast forward, I’m surrounded with an entirely different set of challenges with the twin toddlers and trying to balance everything. But whenever (rarely) I happen to see the marks of my injection ridden thighs or the ever hanging pooch that refuses to part ways with my wide waist, I ask why.
Warning - with this blog I don’t expect pitiful comments for my IVF bravery. I was strong (and so are all the women with or without infertility treatments) but that is something in the past.
I openly started talking about my infertility and IVF treatments only after I had my twins. Not that whenever I underwent any infertility treatments, I denied it, but I never blogged about it either. Perhaps I thought it’s only after you’re successful at something, do people take you seriously.
I see a lot of people around me shy away from admitting they had an IVF treatment or any infertility treatment. I wonder why? I partly got the answer from my own attitude. I only started openly and publicly talking about my infertility after successfully procreating. When we’re talking about hooking up or AF so openly, why not infertility? It’s human to have an inadequate body function, and it’s OK to get it medically treated.
But even I couldn’t talk about it earlier. Other than my understanding bosses (that too I had to share since I had erratic work timings while undergoing the treatment), I rarely spoke about infertility treatments with my colleagues or friends. And once when I didn’t have an understanding boss, I quit my job. Even though it was the biggest opportunity but I wanted to procreate desperately. Even while quitting, I didn’t have the courage to share the reason for leaving the job, so I lied.
Fast forward, I’m surrounded with an entirely different set of challenges with the twin toddlers and trying to balance everything. But whenever (rarely) I happen to see the marks of my injection ridden thighs or the ever hanging pooch that refuses to part ways with my wide waist, I ask why.
- Why couldn’t I talk about my infertility without the fear of being judged?
- Why couldn’t I share it openly with my colleagues or friends, and strictly no relatives?
- When pregnancy itself is still associated with decreased productivity, how can women talk about infertility openly at workplace?
Warning - with this blog I don’t expect pitiful comments for my IVF bravery. I was strong (and so are all the women with or without infertility treatments) but that is something in the past.
