Infertility Blame

A couple of days ago, I read an honest post by fabulous DD. She’s asking whether women diagnosed with male factor infertility call themselves “infertile”, even though with a different (assumingly fertile) partner, they would not have infertility issues. It’s an honest question. So often, you read that infertility is the problem of both partners in a relationship. But is it really?

If Mr. H one day decides to leave our relationship and build a family with someone else, chances will be good that he could. Most likely he would be able to father another child with another (fertile) woman. However, I wouldn’t (not even with another fertile man).

The infertility we are experiencing is mostly* mine biologically. My entire reproductive plumbing has taken a beating at one point or another. None of it my fault, and yet I feel guilty: Because Mr. H could be the father of a litter with someone else. I can never get rid off this thought, never get rid off that self-imposed responsibility. It’s a heavy burden to carry in our relationship.

I always wondered about male factor infertility. For me, apart from the obvious, female factor infertility has also robbed me of my trust in my female body (though admittedly, that was shaken before). It has robbed me of my self-esteem as a woman. I feel worth less as a woman because of my dysfunctional female plumbing. It’s not rational, I know, but I can’t help feeling it. I wonder, do women with male factor infertility who go through exactly the same treatments as I do, feel this, too? Or is at least their self-worth protected by thoughts that they could have gotten pregnant many times over had they just met someone ELSE? Is the anger and stigma of being labeled infertile** easier to deal with if you have someone other than yourself to "blame"?

I read on DD’s blog that women with male factor infertility indeed often silently blame their partners for not getting them pregnant. Do you think only women silently blame their infertile partners or do men, too? Lovely internet, I completely understand why the biologically infertile (BI) partner is blamed by the partner who is infertile by association (AI) only. I probably would, too. In fact, I do blame myself for my (our?) infertility. But I do something else, too. I, being the BI in our relationship, actually sometimes resent people with functioning reproductive biology because they get spared the blame and all negative feelings that arise from it. I even sometimes resent Mr. H for it, because he can fly through this infertility shit with at least his self-worth intact whereas I can’t. When he had his semen analysis done, I actually wondered whether it would make ME feel better if I wasn’t the only one to blame.*** It’s not fair to resent anybody for being healthy but it’s not fair to be blamed for not being healthy either.

Sometimes when I am tired of the blame that I envision Mr. H may or may not put on me (though I am sure I blame myself plenty more than he ever could), I think of in-laws. Some of us are lucky and are born into great families, some of us are unlucky and are born into shitty families. And some of us are unlucky and marry into a shitty family. Can we really blame (resent) anybody for the family one was born into? Isn’t bad luck bad luck, regardless of disguise (born vs. married to)?

But it seems regardless of whether it’s your family or your in-laws, it’s the women who seem primarily in charge of family interactions, such as remembering birthdays and writing thank-you cards. Same in the reproductive department: The burden (and risks) of human reproduction seem to fall primarily on women. This is obvious in pregnancy, but it is also true for infertility. All that men have to do physically is provide their specimen. This may be a bit uncomfortable, but to me it seems nothing compared to the ordeal that women go through. But does this mean we (theoretically speaking) have more say in all reproductive matters? Can I as an infertile woman decline egg donors whereas infertile men “should” accept donor sperm (after all I assume that this was a reasonable “treatment” for many barren women throughout the centuries)? I can only speak for myself, obviously, but the thought of donor eggs is not a particularly cheerful one for me. I assume that at least to some infertile men, the thought of donor sperm could be similarly troublesome. So, I don’t know how to answer that question. Regardless, however, whether it’s their sperm or our eggs that don’t cooperate, I believe men, who see their partners go through an extraordinary ordeal to get pregnant (and lovely internet, that includes all the vitamins and herbal concoctions that make us want to vomit every time we just smell them), anyway, I think men could at least inform themselves how to keep or make their sperm as happy as can possibly be. Or listen to us when we tell them. For some of us, good enough sperm is THE key in knocking us up, for some of us it’s the only factor in our favor. So, please, guys just take your vitamins. Thank you.

Infertility causes us a lot of heart-ache. Riding the rollercoaster of infertility can be at times so emotionally and physically draining that we can’t help feeling resentment and anger towards those that get the easy ride. But what to do with all this anger? In cases, where you know who hurt you, it’s relatively easy to find an outlet. In cases, where you can’t blame but a crappy hand of cards –yours or that of your partner- , it is more difficult. Out of sheer frustration, some of us start blaming our partners because without them, we wouldn’t have that problem. Without them, we would be mothers or fathers. Without them, we would lovingly rub our swollen bellies and never even have to know that our swollen belly may be a source of pain to others. Without them, we would never know that the innocent question “do you have kids?” can send others in emotional turmoil. Without them, we would be able to take the sunny road to motherhood (and who wouldn’t want that?). Without them, we would be normal. If I wasn’t the BI in our relationship, I’m pretty sure I would feel like this at least some of the time (And then feel shitty about myself). As the BI though, I can only blame myself (and life (or god), but that would be another post).

Infertility isn’t a stroll on the beach, damn it. What we long for is something so ordinary, so basic to life it cannot be but painful to be denied, particularly if it seems few around us are. It denies both partners in a relationship equally. It is unfortunate for the BI one to have to deal with shitty, sometimes even painful reproductive shortcomings. It is unfortunate for the AI partner to have to suffer indirectly from these shortcomings as well. There is a German saying that sums it up pretty well “mitgefangen, mitgehangen” (caught together, hung together). I wish it wasn’t like it. For none of us.

And with these profound words I shall end here.

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* Mr. H semen analysis actually showed a potential problem with his morphology. According to our RE, this is probably not relevant to our problems having another child, because Mr. H has already fathered a child. His guys therefore can do the job. The fact that I mothered said child didn’t seem to matter quite as much.

** Stigma of Infertility: Sometimes when people ask me “why I don’t have anymore children”, I simply tell them that Miss V.’s birth caused extensive damage to my uterus (which is true). I don’t tell them that I have endometriosis on top of that (which is much more likely to be the cause of my infertility). I do that because it’s seems somewhat more “honorable” to have lost fertility on the battleground of birth compared to a disease (and possibly a genetic one). Twisted thinking, isn’t it? As if it mattered.

*** In the end, I was actually sad for him when he got his results. I didn’t really want him to feel as broken as I feel. Good thing is, he doesn’t. He probably has forgotten all about it by now.