Read the full transcript of disability advocate Alisha Rai’s talk titled “Infertility Is More Common Than You Think—Support Is Not” at TEDxUniversityofMississippi 2024 conference.
Listen to the audio version here:
TRANSCRIPT:
The Paradox of Effortlessness
We like to tell ourselves that we’re a society that values hard work and grit, that it’s the ability to stick with it, to keep trying, to never give up. That’s what we really admire. The truth is, what we value more is the opposite. It’s the ability to just do something effortlessly, as if we were born to.
Here’s what we say when someone is amazingly talented: “She’s a born leader,” not “She’s diligent and conscientious and has carefully mapped out a leadership strategy and is putting in the work with her leadership coach.” If someone had to do that much work to be a leader, we’d wonder, is she really a natural?
The Expectation of Natural Motherhood
Now, there’s another area where we expect things to be natural, to be effortless, that we were born to do it. And that’s motherhood. As women, we’re brought up to believe that motherhood is a given. Even if we’re trying not to get pregnant, we think we could if we wanted to.
Society believes and tells itself the same thing, that pregnancy and childbirth are natural and no complications is the norm. So when you find yourself with a contrary experience, well, it’s easy to feel broken. When you don’t fit the mold of what society sees as a normal trajectory to motherhood, shame and isolation sets in, as we’re taught not to air our dirty laundry. And worse, we find ourselves questioning if it’s this hard, should we be mothers at all?
The Reality of Infertility
Every woman’s motherhood journey is unique, but for many, far more than what most people know, their experience is marked by infertility and loss.
Globally, one in six people are affected by infertility in their lifetime, and this in turn takes a toll on their physical, mental, and emotional well-being. A lack of accurate, evidence-based information, combined with social-cultural pressures to have children, and then the subsequent stigma associated with the inability to have one, results in mental health and well-being issues that are not often discussed, let alone addressed.
As a family physician who speaks to patients daily about their most personal and private health concerns, who knows how to ask difficult and awkward questions, infertility and miscarriages was a topic I’d glossed over.
A Personal Journey
I didn’t know just how difficult it could be until I tried to become a mom myself. My motherhood journey was far from what I anticipated. It was an emotional roller coaster, filled with multiple medical appointments, invasive ultrasounds, blood draws, peeing on tons of pregnancy and ovulation sticks, and having intercourse in perfectly timed window periods, and still getting a negative result, month after month, until I found myself crying on the bathroom floor, scratching through the garbage to retrieve a pregnancy stick I tossed out, just to make sure I read it correctly, and that it didn’t miraculously turn positive.
Infertility has a way of breaking you down one negative stick at a time. Until I lost sight of who I was, but worse, I started measuring my worth based on a result at the end of a stick. That single line seemed to whisper, “You’re broken, you’re forgotten, you’re purposeless.” Infertility is not just struggling to conceive, it really is struggling to keep together.
Multiple failed treatment cycles and three miscarriages over those five years, and I found myself in the depths of grief, shame, and isolation, questioning if it’s this hard, if it’s this much work, was I really meant to be a mom?
The Pain of Unhelpful Support
Despite people wanting to be supportive, they would say things like, “Everything happens for a reason,” “Just wasn’t meant to be,” “At least you miscarried early.” None of that helped. It only served to deepen the pain I was already feeling. There is never a good time to lose a baby.
A New Path
So after yet another failed treatment cycle, and with my husband’s words at the back of my mind saying, “Love makes a family. It’s love and not biology,” we prayed and trusted the stirrings in our heart and ventured down a path of embryo adoption. It was another roller coaster, filled with multiple legal consultations, psychological assessments, navigating the laws regarding embryo adoption, and endless bills to make it happen.
But a few months later, FedEx delivered two precious embryos, and I’ve never looked at FedEx the same way again. Our IVF transfer went smoothly, and after two long weeks of waiting, it was finally blood draw day, and I was pregnant. I was pregnant.
Breaking the Silence
My journey to motherhood is not a unique one. Painful, yes, but it is shared by many across countries and cultures, and given the global magnitude of infertility, there is a clear need to raise awareness. To accomplish this, we need to break the silence on infertility.
Couples dealing with infertility deserve recognition and empathy, not platitudes. Phrases that seem comforting on the surface, that can sound encouraging, end up trivializing such a deeply personal and often painful experience.
You see, each miscarriage is a unique loss. It’s a loss of first steps, first words, a kindergarten graduation. It’s a loss of memories you don’t get to make. You lose all of it, but most of all, you lose, or you can, if you let yourself, the idea of being a mom.
It Takes a Village
Now, we all know the saying, “It takes a village to raise a child,” but sometimes it takes a village to have a child. You are part of that village, surrounding a couple, navigating the landscape of infertility, or perhaps dealing with the painful loss of a baby.
So here’s what you can do:
Validate their feelings. A simple, “I’m here to listen,” or “Let me know how I can support you,” helps destigmatize the topic and create space for an open discussion that provides genuine empathy and understanding.
Don’t minimize the condition. Instead of offering those painful platitudes, like “Just relax,” and “It’ll happen when it happens,” we stop to recognize the depth of the grief, the magnitude of the loss, without judgment or dismissal, and by doing so, we would reduce the associated mental health burden.
Extend grace and understanding. Talking about infertility can be tricky, but by offering ongoing support, letting them know that they are seen, that it’s not their fault, but most importantly, not rushing them through the grief and the pain can make all the difference.
As a society, let’s challenge the notion that if it doesn’t happen naturally and effortlessly, that it just wasn’t meant to be, it’s not true. But that for many, the journey to motherhood is one built on perseverance, hard work, and grit.
And then to those who are seeking the privilege of motherhood, I encourage you, remain resilient in your pursuit. Get the professional medical help you require and find community to support you, community where your pain is understood and your grief is held. But remember that your worth and your identity is not based on a result at the end of a stick.
Conclusion
I want to leave you all with this. What do you call a woman who’s had to work hard to have a child? Well, the answer is simple. Mom. Thank you.
