Ticking Clocks & Unspoken Dreams: Unpacking Our Reproductive Stories
Why we all have a reproductive story (whether we think about it or not) and how understanding it can bring clarity, compassion, and connection.
Barely a week had passed since our wedding and we still had wedding reception paraphernalia strewn around our living room, but on that first day back at church, I was accosted by a church lady and asked when my husband and I were planning on having kids.
This wasn’t remotely out of character for this dear old saint in our church community, but I was flummoxed all the same.
“I mean, Joan1, we haven’t even fully unpacked after our honeymoon,” I sputtered, annoyed that I was even dignifying her question with an answer. “We’re not even close to thinking about having babies.”
She smiled up at me, crinkles forming at the corner of her eyes. “Well, don’t wait too long! Children are a blessing from the Lord, and you have that biological clock to think about.”
Patting my arm, Joan left me to fret about my 24-year-old reproductive organs and tottered off to pester the associate pastor about the new communion wafers they had just introduced.
According to Joan, apparently, the timeline for my life was very clear. Get married, have kids soon, and honor the Lord with your life choices. I knew that this narrative fit her life story - she had married at age 19 and after a year of traveling the world with her beloved late husband, Leo, they had three babies in quick succession. Easy pregnancies, easy births.
I felt mildly affronted when Joan asked me about my plans to have kids because her reproductive story, informed by her perspective of motherhood, values about parenthood, and experiences with pregnancy, loss, and childbirth, bumped up against mine.
Joan seemed to believe that as a newly-married, 20-something Christian woman, my next task was to bear children. My reproductive story happened to contain a very different perspective on this timeline and a lot of questions about whether or not I even wanted to be a mom.
(I also value not asking people random questions about their fertility. This clearly wasn’t a big priority for dear Joan.)
Clinician Janet Jaffe, in her extensive writing and research about reproductive mental health, coined the term “reproductive story” to describe the narrative we tell ourselves about reproduction and parenthood. As creatures with a biological bent toward reproduction, we all have reproductive stories because we innately have thoughts, feelings, and expectations about reproduction, even if we don’t end up having any children.
Our reproductive stories are unique and shaped by many different cultural, familial, and personal dynamics. They aren’t set in stone - they continue to shift and evolve throughout our lives.
In reality, we may not have any awareness about our reproductive story until we begin to consider whether or not we want to try to have children or when we experience reproductive trauma for the first time.
As a therapist caring for clients navigating lots of dynamics within the reproductive mental health space (infertility, loss, trauma, and perinatal mood and anxiety disorders), I’m basically always talking to someone about their reproductive story. In fact, most of my clients reach out for help when they’re in the thick of the chaos, grief, and confusion that results when their lived experiences don’t match the expectations within their reproductive story.
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” they tell me,2 their shattered hearts laid bare in my counseling office.
“I thought it would be easy for me to get pregnant. Nobody in my family has ever struggled with infertility.”
“The doctor said that we had a really good chance to get pregnant this time. I can’t believe that another IVF transfer failed.”
“I was so excited to become a mom. Nobody prepared me for how miserable I’ve felt during postpartum.”
This disorientation is often deeply painful and confusing. Some people can feel let down by their bodies. They can lose trust in the medical system. They can lose faith in themselves. Their reproductive hopes and dreams are suddenly less assured. Everything may feel upside down and topsy-turvy.
This isn’t the way I thought it was going to go. What am I supposed to do now?
If your reproductive story is disrupted, the first step in navigating through it is to acknowledge just that - you had an internal narrative of expectations and beliefs and they’ve been shattered. Any difficult emotions or reactions you may have are valid and important to name.
It is perfectly normal to have an inner narrative about your fertility, and it can be helpful to note where your narrative has been challenged or ruptured by disappointing, hurtful, or traumatic reproductive experiences.
It might be helpful to journal or process with a safe person or mental health professional about some of the details in your reproductive story, and how it has been impacted or changed over your lifetime. Be curious and open about what comes up for you in that process.
The next stages in this healing journey are grieving and acceptance.
Grieving is essentially the work of responding to loss and honoring what has happened to you. It’s a tremendously non-linear process and it can be especially tricky if you’re in the midst of situations that continue to re-trigger that loss (for example, if you are navigating ongoing fertility treatments and you’re still trying to grieve your most recent failed transfer).
Acceptance is the place you find yourself when you can acknowledge your reality as it is, without denial or avoidance. It doesn’t mean that you’re okay with what happened to you, but feel willing and able to integrate the loss, pain or unexpected life change into your broader life experience.
There’s much more that could be said about grief and acceptance, and I’ll write more about it in future essays.
If someone you love is navigating a disruption in their reproductive story and you’re struggling to relate to their emotional reaction or experience, it can be useful for you to notice internally where your reproductive story differs from theirs. Both of your narratives are important and valid, but they are different, and there is always a need for grace and curiosity in those differences.
And that’s where we find connection and the ability to care for one another, by acknowledging our lived experiences and stepping into a place of curiosity about each other.
Thanks for reading along! If you have any thoughts about the idea of “reproductive stories” or want to share any of your experiences in acknowledging your internal narratives about reproduction, please feel free to leave a comment or reach out to me via email. I’m always delighted to hear from you! - Ginny
Disclaimer: This essay is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Reading or engaging with this content does not constitute therapy, nor should it be considered professional advice or a substitute for therapy. Everyone’s experiences are unique, so what’s shared here may or may not resonate with you. For more details, please review the full disclaimer on my About page before reading. To learn more about my clinical work, please click here.
Not her real name. :)
In order to protect client confidentiality, all client quotes shared here are fictionalized examples and in no way reference any specific client or conversation.
This ministered to my soul. Thank you for writing!