I am a Unicorn

I am a unicorn. An infertility unicorn.

Spontaneous conception is the dream when you’re part of the infertility community. Might not sound like a particularly big dream if having children has come easy to you, but to someone struggling with infertility… it’s the holy grail. I mean, having a child at all is the holy grail. But not having to shell out money, inject yourself with hormones, become best buds with your Reproductive Endocrinologist, put your life on hold, or jump through any number of hoops for the chance to have a baby… that is the dream. And having that dream, that whimsical fantasy come true? Well, that makes you a unicorn.

I jumped through my share of infertility hoops over four years of trying for a baby, but I always harbored this tiny hope that I’d just miraculously conceive one day. I never believed that would actually happen until it did. Being a unicorn is just as surreal as it sounds.

After years of no, getting an unexpected and unassisted yes was wild. It was hard to believe it was real - even as I watched my body change, even as I felt this life growing in me, even as we got closer to our due date. Pregnancy after infertility messes with your mind… it’s exciting and terrifying and not always in equal measure. There’s a tremendous amount of uncertainty and wondering where you belong anymore. Do you feel like an imposter trying to hang with the mom club? Can you still hang out with the infertile kids? There is this pressing guilt you feel because your “why me?” has suddenly flipped. When you’re an infertility unicorn, it’s two fold. Not only are you now expecting, but it was spontaneous?! It feels like you’re going to get your infertile card revoked, like your season of waiting and all you went through is somehow less valid. And now you live in fear of becoming THAT story. You know the one… someone’s sister’s co-worker’s second cousin did x,y, and z and then “just” got pregnant. I am now someone’s sister’s co-worker’s second cousin! So, this National Infertility Awareness Week, I want to take a moment to say that:

I did not just relax. It was the middle of a pandemic, my husband and I were both out of work, and we were experiencing trauma on a global scale.

I did not just stop trying. We were still trying. Just because we knew our odds of conceiving on our own were slim didn’t mean that we ever stopped trying and hoping it would just happen. We were fully aware of my cycle and fully attempting to conceive. We were even talking with our clinic about another round of IVF.

I did not just enjoy being able to sleep in, travel, etc. Hey, both are possible. I could enjoy my child free life while still hoping to have one.

I did not just try this one vitamin, supplement, work out, position, lifestyle change, etc… There is no one thing we did that made all the difference.

I did not just adopt. Adoption is an incredibly personal choice for a family to make. Infertility does not equal adoption and adoption does not equal infertility. Can we stop offering that as a “cure” to infertile people? Can we stop assuming that those who have adopted are infertile? There is so much more to unpack here, but the word just should never be part of it.

I did not just come to terms with the possibility that God didn’t intend for me to be a mother. Nope.

I am one hundred percent okay with having a story that demonstrates hope and God’s goodness. But please don’t use my story to tell someone struggling how they can just. Please don’t let my story become that story. We can all do better. We can all take the time to listen, to validate, to show up in caring ways. Your loved one might not be a unicorn, but I can bet you they are something equally as magical (probably a dragon if I know my infertility warriors ;)). All of our stories are unique, and there is no one size fits all path forward. It isn’t simple. So, please don’t respond like it is when someone trusts you with their story.