The Unrivaled Support of a Sister Through Infertility
My sister and I have this way of talking to each other without exchanging a single word.
The slightest twitch on either one of our faces – a fleeting glance or nostril flare – can communicate anything from “I’m going to steal that top you’re wearing” to “you’ve got a big chunk of broccoli stuck in your teeth.” Over the years, we’ve tried to impart this conversational wisdom to our respective partners, and even our younger brother - but to no avail. It’s a language only we understand. One we’ve accidentally cultivated over a lifetime of shared experience and unique, sisterly insight. And it's precisely this insight, this privileged understanding and masterful translation of cryptic signals that makes each of us the other one's ultimate ally.
My sister supports me in a way that no one else can, because she knows me in a way that no one else does.
She has known me her entire life and I - the older sibling by nearly two years - do not have a single memory of a world without her in it. She is learned in the art of ‘Lauren-isms’, up to speed with my most current (and often fickle) opinions and fluent in my unspoken words - so much so that on more than one occasion, she’s actually been able to interpret my mood from a single emoji sent to the family chat. We’ve known each other during every stage of our lives; we’ve bickered – and then settled – every argument in the book and we’ve woven hundreds of memories into a sense of humor that no one else could ever hope to understand, let alone find funny. I could write a thousand pages akin to some kind of love letter to her but for the purposes of confining my ramblings to just a few hundred words, I’m going to concentrate - for now - on how she has supported me through the hardest experience of my life: infertility.
I so often read about relationships - even the strongest ones - that have become fractured somewhere amongst the mess and emotional fallout of infertility.
It’s an impossibly cruel, but sadly not uncommon, side effect of an already extremely painful experience. And sisters are far from immune. But for me and mine, gratefully - and largely thanks to her - our relationship remains as close as ever, possibly even closer than before. In the last few years, she has been the perfect ear to talk to and the perfect shoulder to cry on. She has taken the weight out of every ounce of my frustration, envy and sadness that this venture has offered. Like some kind of magic sister osmosis. And I will never be able to thank her enough for it.
When I first told her about mine and my husband’s difficulty conceiving and our need for IVF treatment; she didn’t ask me, like everyone else did, how I was feeling - after a childhood spent pushing tiny dolls in tiny prams around the house together, she already knew the answer to that. What she asked, in the absence of all information and without any hesitation whatsoever, was whether I needed her womb. Take it, it’s yours, I’m not using it anytime soon – was the gist of the conversation. And knowing her like I do, I knew she was serious. Her response was so instinctive that I didn’t even have the chance to explain our diagnosis of male factor before the proverbial womb was on the table, mine for the taking. My ambitious, outgoing, social, sporty and - at the time - very soon to be engaged sister would have put her whole life on hold... for me... had I asked her to. And just thinking about that even now, three years on, brings tears to my eyes. They say a sibling is someone who you wouldn’t let borrow your clothes but who you would give up an organ for.... well, that’s certainly true for us.
With the distraction of fertility treatment and my inclination to be ever-so-slightly self-absorbed, it’s not often that I stop and think about how all this affects her - her, the sister watching helplessly from the side-lines as infertility warps the life of someone she loves. I can only imagine that the overwhelming compulsion to “fix” a problem beyond anyone’s control is complete torture for her. When even the most advanced scientific technologies and top-of-their-game medical professionals can’t provide any clear answers, it must be virtually impossible to know how to support me, short of the (very generous) offer of an organ, that is. But what she has shown me, in the simplest, most adorable way, is how much more bearable everything feels when she’s cheering me on. Even when she doesn’t realize she’s doing it…
In the lead up to my first round of IVF, she butted heads with the post office because - despite her best effort to bestow the importance of it - they refused to send a fresh pineapple to my address. I ended up receiving an envelope full of pineapple leaves through the letterbox a few days later with a message handwritten across one of them that read: “apparently you can’t send pineapples in the post, can you believe it?!” - which I like to imagine she scrawled out in melodramatic fury, at the front of a queue of completely bewildered customers, with a bald pineapple under her arm. Throughout treatment, she would ask after eggs and sperm in the same way I imagine someone might ask after their niece or nephew. On the day of the egg retrieval, she turned up to work proudly sporting an IVF Babble pineapple pin….and then left early so that she could - in her words - fully concentrate on the eggy updates without any distractions. And after our negative result, she wrote me a poem, which I will treasure forever.
She’s my most loyal and unwavering supporter. Through thick and thin. From day one. And I hope she knows - via the same cryptic signals, facial twitches and unspoken words she so regularly picks up on - that I am all of these things for her. I will rally behind wherever life takes her the same way she has done for me. I have dreams and wishes reserved just for her and should her path lead to a destination that I’m yet to arrive at, then at least one of those wishes will have come true. And my heart would feel nothing but happiness.
Sisters are special. Hold onto them tightly
Medical Disclaimer:
The information provided in this blog is intended for general informational purposes only and should not be considered as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your healthcare provider or qualified medical professional with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read in this blog.