Dear Miriam,

My husband and I have been married for almost nine years and we have been struggling with infertility issues from the start. We really have tried everything. When the old-fashioned way wasn’t fruitful, we tried various fertility clinics, faith healers, bio-energy, acupuncture, reflexology, homeopathy, crystals and the weirdest cures you could imagine. But unfortunately, things just haven’t worked out for us.

It has totally taken over our lives, particularly in the last few years

We have spent so much money trying to get our miracle – more than we could actually afford to be honest – but after all these years we still, unfortunately, have nothing to show for it. This constant emotional rollercoaster has taken a toll on our relationship. It has totally taken over our lives, particularly in the last few years.

Despite everything that I’m feeling myself, I feel like I’m always the one who has to “fix things”

But when things don’t work out, we have different ways of dealing with it. I react immediately and with full tearful emotion; my husband retreats into himself and shuts down. My recovery process has always been to plan the next attempt and I bring him round by convincing him that there’s still a chance. Despite everything that I’m feeling myself, I feel like I’m always the one who has to “fix things”.

I just can’t bring myself to bring it up. I’m afraid I’m not enough for him, I’m afraid he won’t be happy with just me

The problem now is, I don’t think I can do it anymore. But I don’t know how to broach the subject with my husband. I think I’m ready to accept that it’s just not meant to be and I’m making my peace with that, but I’m afraid he won’t feel the same. I just can’t bring myself to bring it up. I’m afraid I’m not enough for him, I’m afraid he won’t be happy with just me and maybe he blames me for depriving him of a family. I think that would actually be harder for me to deal with.

We are very private people and no one else knows what we are going through. I have no one to talk to and I just don’t know what to do.

Laura

Dear Laura,

It really does sound like you both have been through a lot and I am sure it has been incredibly difficult for you two. I want to start with the old saying: “A problem shared is a problem halved.”

You have already taken the first step in writing to me and fair play. I am sure that in itself helped. The next step is to have an open and honest conversation with your husband about where you both are at now and what you are thinking.

I know it will be incredibly difficult, but be brave and things will get better

From reading your letter, I think you already know this. I know it will be incredibly difficult, but be brave and things will get better. Part of your reluctance is that you are afraid of the implications for your relationship; you are afraid you might not be enough.

Remember that you fell in love in the first place for a reason, and you are enough. Believe in yourself – it is one of the most important things we can do in life.

I know you feel he might blame you for not being able to have a family, but how do you know he is not feeling the same way in reverse? He could think you feel he has deprived you of a family. You just don’t know until you talk.

Your relationship could benefit from taking the pressure off and enjoying being with each other

You don’t think you can do it anymore, and that is absolutely fine. Your relationship could benefit from taking the pressure off and enjoying being with each other.

You have also said that he retreats into himself and you bring him round to trying something else; it might help him to let him know if he has reached the point where he wants to stop trying, that is okay with you.

I know it is costly, but there are lots of babies who need the loving home you could give them

For what it is worth – and that may be nothing – would you consider adoption? I know it is costly, but there are lots of babies who need the loving home you could give them.

Whatever you decide, discuss it openly and remember; you once were enough, that is enduring, and you still are.

I wish you all the very best.

Miriam