Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts

19 November, 2018

My No Kidding / Childless Man

There’s an unfortunate comment often made to men – it was said to my husband – that they need to “prove you’re a man” by having children. This is my response.

My husband was more of a man than:
  • Those who leave all decisions to their wives, either too scared, or too lazy to get involved in active decision-making or parenting
  • Those who don't do their equal share of work at home
  • Those who belittle their partners 
  • Those who bully their wives and daughters 

He:
  • Supported me when I was afraid 
  • Held me when I cried 
  • Never told me to “get over it” even though I’m sure he may have felt like saying it 
  • Hid his own pain, until he could see I was healing 
  • Never blamed me, not once 
  • Stood up, and took it 
  • Made me laugh 
  • Made me know I was loved

14 April, 2018

Fertility Week: Highlighting infertility and loss on mainstream media


Some weeks ago, I mentioned here that a nightly news/magazine-style programme on one of our major TV channels was going to present a Fertility Week. I recorded each night, and have now finally got around to watching them, to report back.

They introduced the series one Friday evening. I did however immediately email them, asking that they ensure they include examples where people didn’t walk away from infertility with children.

Monday evening was information night. “Fertility, the “F” word, a big effing deal.” The statistics were useful. One in four couples face fertility issues, which is more than the population of the South Island. For someone who grew up in the South Island (ie, me!), that comparison is huge. They explained the issues of unexplained, male and female infertility, and when you should seek help for under 35s and over 35s.

They interviewed a couple with a low sperm count and low AMH. They were young, but had been dismissed by doctors, and they urged people to get tested. They noted too, that they hadn’t told many people in their lives – until now! And they talked about the invasive questions, and that people don’t take the hint that they don’t want to give answers. “People don’t quit when asking about babies,” they said, ruefully. Josh, the host who had suffered infertility, agreed. I wondered if anyone watching this would really understand what they were saying, would realise how painful these questions can be, and would change their actions.

One of the co-hosts talked about his own story. Josh noted that his first baby is due soon, but that really it is his fourth, but no-one accepts or recognises that. He talked about how difficult it is to open up, and that he noted that when others on staff announced pregnancies, he decided would ask if they had faced difficulties. Almost all of them had, but none had spoken of it. He emphasised, “it was a relief to know we weren’t alone.” And on reflection, he thinks it would have helped if he could have talked about it as they were going through infertility and loss.

Tuesday evening they turned to science. They talked about government funding, the requirements, and the cost for private patients (or those 40 and over who don’t qualify). They interviewed three couples who together had years of trying for children. But they didn’t include anyone who was not successful with IVF. So even though they noted that, percentage-wise, you’re more likely not to get pregnant than to get pregnant (under 35 about 45% success rate, over 42, a 10% rate), there was no discussion of donor eggs or sperm that might boost those rates. The visual of the happy interviewees with their babies/children would be the lasting image many people would take from this segment, giving a dishonest impression of the possible and probably outcomes. Let my eye-rolling commence.

On Wednesday, they talked to the guys, which I was pleased to see. They emphasised issues around male infertility. Of course, one man they interviewed couldn’t resist going on about his “miracle.” Sure, after two ectopics and seven miscarriages, he was understandably ecstatic. But he didn’t seem to register that others might not be so successful. He stressed the “need to address” the problems, “especially something like this that can be remedied.” Queue further eye-rolling from me.

However, I had some hope. Because each night, the group of three hosts is joined by a guest, and this night their guest was JJ, a well known radio host and Dancing with the Stars contestant who has spoken up in women’s magazines about her and her husband’s infertility. I knew she didn’t have the “miracle baby” outcome to her infertility. And after the man who waffled on not to give up, she spoke up.

JJ talked about her eight years of infertility, the multiple unsuccessful IUIs and IVF cycles, and the fact they never got their baby. She was in tears, but spoke through them, determined to explain why some people do have to stop trying. She talked too about the emotional impact on her husband. It was important, I wanted to cheer for her, but I believe I was crying too. You can watch her piece here.

Thursday night they turned to adoption. “When all options are exhausted, some turn to adoption.” But thankfully, they almost immediately pointed out that adoption is “almost impossible” in New Zealand. Adoptions by non-relatives have plummeted by 98% over the last thirty years. This is one reason why I get annoyed at the “just adopt” brigade, and why I get annoyed at the people who say that we chose to resolve childfree. When I say that sometimes there are no options, you need to believe me! They noted that adoptions in New Zealand are almost always open, perhaps unusually. And they pointed out that adoption can be complicated, and that there are almost always issues of abandonment and trust involved.

They didn’t really cover international adoption, or the cost of that, and the difficulty of doing this from New Zealand, but I guess they had limited time. 
I did appreciate the clip of a woman commenting that, because she couldn’t adopt (domestically or internationally) due to health issues, she struggled at times. She explained that yes, she might be happy for others, but at the same time she felt sadness and grief for herself. Mother’s Day, which is only a few weeks away here in NZ, is particularly hard. Apart from JJ, this was the only childless outcome openly discussed the entire week.

The final programme of their Fertility Week talked about the stress of loss and infertility on relationships. They quoted women who had told their husbands that they would understand if he left them for a woman who could give them children. They talked about friendship losses as well, about whilst you might be happy for your friends, sometimes it was too hard to be with them and their families. Or finding that friends weren’t always patient or understanding.

Of course, in interviewing people about this, they didn’t edit the clip where another woman with a baby on her lap stressed to keep trying, to keep going. The insensitivity frustrated me – I'm not sure if she wanted to give hope, or was just so thrilled with her victory she wanted to shout it from the rooftops. She certainly didn't recognise the damage that this pressure to never give up could do to people at the end of their limits. A knowledgeable producer might have been able to counter this, but it was all done too quickly, with little time to elaborate.

During the week they had been running a hashtag to get people to share their stories. The name of the hashtag was simple, catchy, but misdirected. #mybabystory implies that there is a baby, when for many people going through infertility, and needing the support of others, there is never a baby. Even searching #mybabystory does nothing but bring up photographs of babies, potentially very triggering for people looking for support, going through infertility now, or trying to come to terms with their No Kidding lives after infertility. I felt that this was a big fail, and I wonder who they actually consulted for advice when putting the week together.

They finished the week with the stories people wrote in to tell, and each of the hosts had read these out in a pre-recorded segment. It was emotional, and you can see the final segment here. They couldn’t bloody resist, though, could they? It became dangerously close to a “just adopt” segment, and they only included one quote from someone who never became a parent.

Still, there was one sentence which I listened to with a very different perspective. “I have unconditional love for a baby I didn’t birth,” wrote one parent. I assumed that this comment was about adoption. But I read it, and related to it, in another way. It could just as easily have been me talking about my unconditional love for babies never born. I think all of us here can relate to that.

My conclusion is that this was a very successful week, and they deserve the praise the programme received. Personally, each of the hosts dealt with the issues with tact and sensitivity, and it was a welcome airing of issues too often kept hidden in the shadows. 

But they could easily have done much better, simply by changing some words, editing some clips and scripts, and being a bit more balanced. Ultimately, their discomfort with the hardest part of infertility – the fear that the outcome won’t be what is most sought after  – led to the fact that they pretty much ignored that outcome. And they certainly didn't point out that a No Kidding life isn't full of pain and regret and sadness and envy, but can be full of friendship and joy and adventure and fulfilment. Clearly, they should have called me for advice!

Still, brava to The Project NZ for their Fertility Week.


Some other links:
Jesse Mulligan, the host of The Project, wrote this article summing up the week.
A clip about invasive questions from a guest who doesn’t have children.

26 November, 2012

Men are from Mars ...



When I was young, a new and enthusiastic feminist in my teens and 20s, the debate was still raging over nature and nurture, and whether the sexes really were that different.  Now I’m in much older, I know that the sexes are different, and increasingly we are finding incontrovertible evidence that this is a result of nature.  Over the years, especially at the forums dealing with loss and then infertility post-loss, I have seen example after example that shows men really are from Mars, and we women most definitely are not.

I’ve often seen women in the grips of grief over pregnancy loss, or in despair as infertility takes its toll, talk about their male partners.  And one of the most frequent sentiments is how much these women wished that their partners not only understood how they felt, but shared exactly the same emotions.  

But you know, our men are different.  Just because they don't react the way we react doesn’t mean they don’t care.  It means they’re experiencing this differently.  They’re distressed at the distress shown by their lovely women.  They feel helpless, they want to solve the problems, and they want to protect us.  And when they can’t, they can sometimes behave in ways that are inexplicable to us.  I’ve seen men who struggle to deal with the emotions of their women decide that the answer is simply never to try to get pregnant again.  Yes, I see you’re all rolling your eyes.  We know that’s not the right solution.  But our  men don’t always know that.

Whilst I didn’t want my husband to feel the grief I felt, I did want him to express his feelings a little more than he did.  He didn’t really know how he felt, because he didn’t explore his feelings in the same way I did.  He shook his head and said to me once, “you don’t understand.  If I don’t want to think about something, I don’t.”  I remember being stunned.  If only I could be like that!  Life would be much easier.

As I started to pull out of my wretchedness, and began laughing, smiling, and loving life again, he felt he could relax, and express some of his own feelings.  Isn’t this what I wanted?  Well, in a word, and to be totally honest, NO!  Because knowing that he was sad, when I was finally not being sad, pulled me back down.  And then it made me feel guilty for resenting him pulling me back down.  Now, so many years later, we’re both comfortable with noting when something annoys or upsets us, or even gloating over feeling child-FREE at times.  But in those early months and years, when I was concentrating on trying to get better – for me and for him - it was hard enough to deal with my own emotions.  To be completely frank, dealing with his emotions would have been an added burden.  It was a burden I could bear once i felt like I was recovering, and I knew I could support him when he needed it.  But had it come earlier, I might have drowned.

So when I look back, I am forever grateful that we are very different.  I can’t imagine we could have gone through that time, experiencing identical emotions, and survived.  The fact we are different complements each other.  So my advice to women who want their men to feel the same emotions is “be careful what you wish for.”


15 May, 2012

What about the men?


I got a few comments on my Huff Post piece saying “what about the men?”  They ran rather sarcastically along the lines of “men don’t count, only women’s feelings count, everyone forgets the man” etc etc.  And I guess, if you’re coming into either my blog or read that article, you might think that.  I mean, I rarely talk about my husband on-line.  I don’t do it on A Separate Life, I don’t do it on Facebook, and I don’t do it here.  Even when he is mentioned, he’s “my husband” or simply “him/he.”

The thing is, it was my choice to go on-line to talk about my life, not his.  He struggles to even read my blogs.  He’s only on Facebook so he can see photos of relatives, he doesn’t even know what a status update is, and he can’t imagine anything worse than writing for fun!  He’s been selectively private about our infertility.  (He hasn’t discussed it with his family, but he has discussed it with a friend of his who has gone through infertility.)  And of course, his experience with infertility has been different to mine.  He’s watched me go through extremes during our marriage – initially very pro-contraception, right through to the cycle charting, the IVF injecting, and the thoughts of adoption or using donor eggs.  He’s watched me go through physical risk and emotional turmoil, at the same time coping with his own emotions of loss.  That’s his experience of infertility, and whilst I think I understand it somewhat, I know I don’t understand it 100%.   

His experience of infertility, and indeed his experience of living with no kids, is his experience, not mine.  I respect that.  I know that it is his story, not mine.  And I know that his story is not my story to write.