A Year After Coming Out - A Reflection on my New Identity

When infertility becomes a part of your identity you can end up in a very dark place. There are many ups and downs, but it’s a huge adjustment. Some people grow up with a specific medical issue, or had a disease along the way, and are perhaps more prepared for the fact that infertility is a part of their lives. But for most of us, it’s a huge shift. We’re not prepared. There’s no book on “what to expect when you’re not expecting to be infertile”. And often, it’s something that we’re not willing to accept as a part of us, but rather something we “deal with” or “endure”. A combination of medical problems we didn’t even know existed, or didn’t realize would contribute to baby-making.

It took me a long time to accept the fact that infertility is a part of who I am. It was a deep secret. Many people hurt me because they didn’t know this side of me. I / we didn’t share it. Eventually we realized that we had no choice but to share. On the one hand, it was eating me up inside, making me bitter and angry. On the other hand, we had run out of resources.

A year ago I posted on facebook with a notice that we’re searching for a gestational surrogate. I’d say it was one of the scariest things I’ve ever put out in public. We had extended family and close friends who had no idea. In fact, no one really knew. And there it was, out in the world.

There was this amazing outpouring of support. For about a week my phone didn’t stop beeping at me with messages from people close, those I’ve lost touch with, and complete strangers sending love, prayers, and support. It was quite the shock all around. And even a year later when I run into people I haven’t seen in over a decade, one of the first things I hear about is how they read my blog, love it, and think I’m inspirational. I am truly grateful.

We think that by the time we’re in our 30s we have a pretty good idea of our identity, what’s important to us, what we value, who we are. Although it’s obviously always evolving, life smacks you with things that get added on to an identity that we think is already pretty set.

One thing I’ve learned to embrace over the past year is that infertility is part of who I am. Do I talk about it all the time? No. Do most people at work know about it? No. But it’s in the same way that I don’t talk about other aspects of who I am all the time. I’ve got work to do and things to see. We just live ourselves. And try to be as authentic as possible.

(c) Rebecca Schwartz

I’m not going to lie, I still get nervous talking about it with new people. I never know how someone will react. What kind of unsolicited advice might come my way that I’ll have to field. What bitterness or anger will somehow come out of the woodwork that will influence my tone. But in general, it’s taken a year for me to now talk about it with “ease”. The conversation around infertility can become normal. I’m no longer embarrassed about it.

And maybe what started as a search for a surrogate was really just a way for us to be more open about it, and encourage others to feel comfortable with what we’re all going through in different ways. To accept that this journey becomes a part of who we are. To encourage those around us to be supportive, which usually just means to listen and give us hugs.

I feel like I have grown a lot over the past year. Finding my voice for this newer aspect of my identity is a process. Thank you to everyone who has shown kindness and love.