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I fell in love with
’s writing before we became friends. There aren’t many other people with whom we have a front row seat to their fertility struggles as they happen.Charlie’s willingness to be open and discuss her deeply personal and sometimes devastating journey in the infertility world is admirable. Her words are powerful, at times she is ferocious and formidable, other times she allows her despair and grief to trickle into her words.
My friend Charlie wants us to do better for women without children, whether they are here by choice or circumstances, and especially do better for those currently undergoing fertility treatments. And if we want to do better, we must first talk about it, right?
This conversation centres on Charlie’s piece, which is linked below.
How Do You Grieve For Infertility When There Is Always Another Potential Route to Parenthood?
Don’t miss the Sustack LIVE conversation between Ali Hall (Life Without Children founder) and Charlie Brown (writer of this piece). It’s on Thursday, 6th June, 6pm UK time (10am PST, 1pm EST, 7pm CET).
Reading this deeply poignant story highlighted to me how inept society is as a whole at holding space for the grief of childlessness and the suffering of those going through fertility treatments. All too often, comments are full of silver linings and toxic positivity.
I feel we, as a society, do a terrible job at sitting alongside someone else’s suffering without trying to fix it, change it, or minimise it.
Throughout Charlie’s piece, she repeatedly writes “Don’t grieve, it’s not over yet!” which is the message she received regularly. There was no soft place to land, no acknowledgement of the hardships, just an attitude of dust yourself off, get back on that horse, persevere hard enough, and it will happen. But she needed to grieve. After all, grieving is instrumental to healing. Oh how I wish she had been given the permission and space to grieve.
She recognises that, in turn, she put on a tough exterior. Most of the time, she conveyed the message she was ok, but in reality, she was hurting inside.
If only we as a society were more perceptive to this hidden hurt, this disenfranchised grief.
As someone who has never wanted children and so have never been thrown in with the sharks of the fertility industry, I have learned a huge amount from reading Charlie’s work.
A few other points stand out to me from this conversation.
Perhaps as the title indicates, the fertility industry can feel like a conveyor belt of options and processes. If one thing doesn’t work, fear not, there is another option or “solution” so the ever hopeful mum-to-be is passed along the line. And if you dare to step away and say enough is enough, you risk receiving the message that you didn’t really want children badly enough.
I asked Charlie how those going through fertility treatment can recognise when enough is enough. When do they stop, without their miracle baby? This is such an individual decision. Charlie was vulnerable enough to say she didn’t know and she was still wondering about that for herself.
We discussed how clinical the fertility industry can feel. And while Charlie recognised that her own experiences are tinged with the fact that she is going through the system in Portugal, where she isn’t fluent in the language, we talked about the lack of sign-posting to therapists or support groups. And just how lonely it feels.
It seems that the jagginess of the infertility industry needs a little softening. Charlie gave me goosebumps when she said that what was the worst day of her life was just a day at the office for the staff in the fertility clinic, who took a business-as-usual approach. Isn’t that stark?
On reflection, I wish I had asked Charlie what advice she would give anyone at the start of their journey in the infertility industry. Maybe she will grace us with an answer in the comments section (hint hint Charlie).
I haven’t experienced the fertility industry first-hand, so my recommendations may seem cheap. But from speaking with Charlie I would advise you to join a support group early on, allow yourself to feel your feelings and find a way to express them, if you feel up to it, be open with those you trust about how you are feeling. Give yourself time to pause, grieve and process throughout your journey.
If you have been through this journey, what advice would you give to others coming up behind you?
Useful links
This is a link to Charlie’s article, which we discussed.
We also referenced another one of Charlie’s articles; We Must Stop Asking Infertile Women ‘Why Don’t You Just Adopt?
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Discussing his article I Wanted To Be The Cool You Dad - Not Do The Actual Parenting
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