"How Many Years Have You Been Married?"

I’ve been meeting a lot of new people lately. I’ve been going to some conferences and networking events, and our office has recently expanded. There are a lot of first topics that people talk about to get to know someone. Mostly it revolves around work, career history, maybe a significant hobby, and sometimes if it’s obvious that there’s a spouse people will ask what they do. And sometimes one of my most dreaded questions arises, “so how many years have you been married?” This is a totally normal question to ask. It’s not one of those questions you shouldn’t ask people who don’t have children or you know are suffering from infertility. It’s really a part of everyday conversation. And yet for me it’s one of the scariest.

I love that my husband and I have been married for over 5 years now. I actually love saying how long we’ve been married. It’s the question that potentially comes after, that makes me all anxious. “Do you have kids?” The truth is, that most often, it’s not asked. But the potential of that question instills so much fear in me.

Our first dance
(c) Rebecca Schwartz

I was recently talking to a friend of mine who is also in fertility treatments and she was telling me about this new guy at work. He asked her “how long have you been married?” and she said to me, “I really thought about lying. Like, why not lie? Why not just say I’ve been married for 6 months or a year, what harm would be done. He’s new, we’re not friends, who really cares?” She told the truth, and the response was, “ok, cool.” Phew! Crisis averted. This is someone who isn’t totally “out” with her infertility, but even someone like me who is, can’t handle it. The exact same scenario happened to me about a month ago with a new guy at work. And it’s like, “I didn’t prepare for this. I didn’t think I’d be having this conversation right now. What do I say if he asks? Do I just brush it off like I used to because I don’t know him well at all or do I just say, ‘Oh, yea, no, I’m infertile.’” And then have an awkward moment. Which honestly, could be hilarious in my head since it would be totally unexpected for the other person, but I’d still be standing there all awkward, so yeah, not so funny I guess. And he didn’t ask me about kids in the end either.

What can I say though, this question is totally unavoidable. We have to just be strong and always prepared for the follow-up, even though usually, there isn’t one. Part of infertility is facing our anxieties. I’ve become more aware through this whole process that I do have maybe a little more anxiety than the next person, and infertility has thrown me into the deepend to deal with it. Sink or swim. I choose to swim. I know that there’s no way that I am prepared for every question, remark, or look that comes my way, but I think I’m getting better at just taking a deep breath and dealing with it. The other person doesn’t know what my triggers are. They are usually super normal things. So if I just acknowledge them for what they are, recognize it, and answer however I see fit at that moment, this whole thing gets a little easier. If I look at my anxiety around these interactions positively, I see that it helps me become a better, more well-rounded, self-aware person. As the philosopher Soren Kierkegaard once said in the 1800s, “you cannot be a creative, imaginative human being without anxiety. That’s the cost of entry for being that kind of a person.” If that’s so, I’ll take it.

Let’s embrace these awkward moments. Let’s make these moments turn us into better people. And if the question is asked just say “no” or “not yet” and see what happens. Most people don’t want to pry much further anyway.