the myth, aka “just” think again

We’ve been starting to share the news, and as I said before the reactions have been interesting. Definitely a lot of “it happens so often!” (i.e., becoming mysteriously pregnant after adoption). But it’s just not true. It is actually quite rare. You know why? Because adoption in no way cures infertility. That misconception diminishes both adoption and infertility. It mistakenly relegates a very real disease and all of its pain and anguish to a mere matter of the mind. It diminishes every aspect of the way in which we’ve built our family, including our very daughter. It’s insulting to everyone, as well as ignorant.

Yet people don’t realize that or care to think about it. I assume they just want to chalk it up to another case of “just relax and it will happen.” Which is maddening, on so many levels. Of course it doesn’t matter to these people that it’s been more than three years since we shifted our focus to adoption and stopped trying to conceive. Rather, that probably only confirms their belief that all we infertiles really need is a vacation, or something. As if caring for a toddler, buying a home and uprooting our lives are “relaxing.” In fact, I must have inadvertently conceived during one of the most stressful times imaginable.

After some gentle prodding from a friend, I wrote an email to the moms in our adoption group, cautiously sharing our news. In the past I’ve always felt very “safe” with these women, in part due to our shared experience with both infertility and adoption. Yet I didn’t know what response to anticipate. I wondered how I would react to similar news, and I wasn’t entirely sure. I explained the circumstances, the shock, the risks and uncertainty. I was so overwhelmed that I received such a warm response from every single woman. Surprise, yes, but also support and genuine care. I was moved. Perhaps most interesting was the reply from our adoption counselor, who indeed confirmed how truly rare this is. In more than 30 years in practice, she says the best estimate is that just 3% of women become pregnant after adopting. The cliche is more of a myth.

When confronted with these statements I still struggle how to respond. The angry infertile in me wants to scream and rip heads off. The tolerant persistent advocate in me wants to seriously educate. And my snarky sarcastic self just wants to scoff and retort with something equally witty and insulting.

It’s just plain misinformation and ignorance that causes people to make such outrageous assumptions and statements. Some people are well meaning. Some may even know a family that fits the cliche. Some may have heard about a friend of a friend. For others, though, I think they really believe that infertility is merely a matter of the mind. So I try to think about where the it’s coming from before responding.

Sometimes I offer an unwelcome lecture about the biological causes of infertility. Sometimes I correct them and say actually it is quite rare, that only maybe 3% of women actually conceive after adopting. Sometimes I offer specifics about my situation to show how unlikely it really is, explaining that most infertile women my age wouldn’t be able to conceive even with assistance. Sometimes I joke that its not that “everyone knows someone,” but that everyone knows the same two people. And sometimes I just silently seethe as I brush it off, because honestly I’m too exhausted to intelligently engage certain people.

Two people suggested that maybe I was able to conceive not because we adopted, but because we had a baby in the house — i.e., surrounded by baby energy, becoming a mother, opening and embracing parenthood, etc. At first I was just relieved they hadn’t said it was because we adopted our daughter. Yet while I realize it’s intended as a harmless statement, it still rubs me the wrong way. As if that would be enough. As if years of giving everything — blood, sweat, tears, energy, love, prayers, faith, dedication, etc. — were not enough. As if it were that simple.

I’m still at a loss about how to respond when faced with these comments. I’ve grown a thick skin over the years, so it’s not that I take it personally so much as how insulting it is to infertiles and families affected by adoption. I feel obligated on several levels to bust the myth and the ignorance behind it.

So what would you say?

I still have no good words to describe our situation at all. The doctors call it “spontaneous.” I call it miraculous. Against every odd. There is absolutely nothing “so common” about it.

~ by luna on July 22, 2011.