I’ve had a lot of people tell me they don’t know what to say. Usually out of fear of “saying the wrong thing” or wondering what some do’s and don’t’s may be… with the upcoming holidays, I thought it was an ideal time to discuss this issue since there’s no avoiding crowds of people and a bunch of small talk.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve always been so open about our infertility, perhaps it’s because I have a terrible memory. Either way, I’ll admit I cannot remember ever getting mad or frustrated at questions like, “when are you guys going to have babies?” or comments along the lines of, “all your friends have babies! Are you up next?”  That’s common, every day conversation that people you don’t see very often think are appropriate. And you know what? It IS appropriate! They don’t know our journey and that’s okay! But since you’re here because you probably are aware of our situation, here are my unedited, unfiltered thoughts on the appropriate jargon topic.

What should you say? Whatever you want. I know that’s not the answer you wanted, but think about it like this… If you say the wrong thing, it won’t kill me. I’ll wake up the next day and life will still continue. Yes, it may hurt my feelings but I’m a strong girl and I can assure you, regardless of how much you may hurt me, I can guarantee it’s nothin’ compared to the pain I’m already going through.

With all that said, there’s the flip side… This has been nothing short of a roller coaster, and this is also true for what we want and don’t want to hear. A year and a half ago, all I needed to hear was “it’ll happen when the time is right” or “just relax” but now, I realize those elementary responses are the opposite of comfort or encouragement. They’re wrong. Infertility is a disease, it’s a medical condition that must be treated. “Just relax” at this point of our process, is a complete insult. Would you tell a cancer patient to relax? Heck no, you’d support them and while you have no idea what they’re really going through, you’d just want them to know you’re not completely insane by telling them to let nature take its course. Yes, I understand comparing cancer and infertility are comparing apples to oranges but it’s the same concept that medical procedures are critical to healing.

My best advice of what to say … use common sense, be empathetic and have a touch of a filter because chances are, you don’t see 99.99% of the actual battle.

The support is one thing that keeps me going, comforts me and lets me know John and I are not the only people that already love and adore Baby(ies) Wurt. You, yup, you – the one that’s reading this right now, you support us, just by being here and wanting to know how we’re doing. I feel the love and I feel the hope every time someone reaches out to me.

“I don’t know what to say to you, but just know I support you and I pray for you guys.” Sincere, simple, powerful. More often than not, that’s all I need to hear. Nothing forced, nothing fake, nothing of pretend efforts to “understand” what we’re going through, because quite frankly, you don’t. I never want anyone to understand because you only get it when you’re living it and this nightmare is something I’d never want any other person/couple in the entire world to experience.

With this said, I put together some things I thought of as do’s and don’t’s when being there for someone with infertility. Let me preface this… my emotions are a carbon copy of a rollercoaster. There are things that I find comforting today that I’d probably curl up in a ball if I heard a year ago, or maybe tomorrow. So regardless of where a woman is on her journey, be sensitive.

Do
• Admit if you might not know just what to say. Let the person know you’re there to support nonetheless. Say you’re willing to do anything needed, even if it’s just listening.
• Talk about the infertility. Follow the person’s lead. You’ll be able to tell in no time what she or he needs by simply listening.
• Invite the person to lunch, a funny movie, or to go shopping.

Don’t
• Jump straight into telling success stories or heartbreaking failures of people you know until you know where the other person stands. There’s a time and place for those stories. If you tell me of a heartwarming, wonderful story of a couple conceiving twin perfectly healthy babies after 5 years of the struggle, and I received a negative test the night before, I’m probably going to give you a response you’re not prepared for.
• Drop out of sight or stay away. It’s wild to me how certain friends have distanced themselves from me/us during this phase of my life, only to be replaced with completely unexpected friendships filling that void. This is one of the loudest messages God reminds me of daily. The journey He’s leading me on is one about creating new friendships through similar stories, or recreating existing friendships on a different level or bringing the friendship back into my life.
• Say you know how she or he feels (unless you’ve also gone through a similar experience).
• Tell me how incredibly hard it is to be a mother. I may be growing in certain aspects of my viewpoints, but empathy for mothers that grow tired of constantly cleaning, or sleepless nights is not one of them. My sleepless nights are filled with tears, prayers and feelings of defeat over how incredibly hard it is to not be a mother. I know the role is difficult, but be thankful. You’re blessed.

There we have it… my thoughts. Ya got anything to tell me?  😉