Last Christmas: Struggling with Infertility Around the Holidays

Last Christmas, my partner and I spoke out loud all the things we wanted in 2021 and toasted to our best year yet.  It was our version of manifesting, and it centered heavily on becoming parents. Here we are almost a full year and a miscarriage later, still childless and counting the days until my next IVF protocol begins.

Generally, I love Christmas time.  The holidays represent warmth, quality time and joy to me.  Over the years, my partner and I have created our own special traditions that we enjoy each year as a family of three (our dog, Ellie, is our first baby), and we long for the day that we can include a baby in our existing traditions while adding new ones as a family of four.  

Infertility can complicate the holiday experience in a way that only fellow warriors understand.  Gatherings with extended family and friends can invite personal questions that aren’t easy to answer or are just plain inappropriate to ask (note: it is never okay to ask someone when they plan to have children).  For me, I have a love/hate relationship with buying gifts for nieces and nephews: I love finding something that I know they will enjoy while simultaneously dreading watching them open it because it puts a spotlight on the fact that I don’t have my own child to delight with presents on Christmas morning.  

I know that some of us warriors live in a constant state of anxiety leading up to the holidays because we think a family member might announce a pregnancy. I’m sure many of us dwell on what we thought this holiday season would have looked like or should look like, and reconciling reality with those wishes can be deflating.  These added emotional challenges create an extra layer that we must simultaneously sit with and work through while also ensuring we don’t “ruin” the holidays for others.

This time of year can be a reminder of what we’re missing out on, that another year has passed and we’re still trying to build the family we so desperately desire.  Someday, it will be our turn to don matching family pajamas for photos, to take our children to see Santa, to decorate our tree with colored lights and wild abandon instead of our carefully curated approach, and to view the wonder of the holiday season through their eyes.  For now, the holiday that normally fills me with such joy is a time that amplifies the missing pieces in my life.

Chelsea’s dog Ellie ❤️

This holiday season, guard your peace.  As some fellow warriors told me recently, it’s okay to say, “we’re taking a break from talking about infertility.” It’s also okay to talk about your journey with as much detail as you want with anyone who will listen. It’s okay to decline invitations if attending isn’t going to serve you. It’s okay to protect yourself first; everyone else will get over it.  It’s also okay if this season does not send you into a pit of depression.  As my partner told me, not having a baby highlights some of what is missing from the season and makes him want new traditions with a child, but it doesn’t necessarily ruin the holidays for him.  A baby would just enhance his experience.  My point is that it’s okay to be at a zero on the festive scale, or a 10, or somewhere in between.  It’s okay if that changes day to day or event to event, too.

For those of you who aren’t infertile but know someone who is, please extend some patience, grace and empathy.  We might not be the life of the party, we might not stay the entire time, and we may not participate at all.  It’s not you; it’s infertility.

When the holidays roll around a year from now, I hope to be that new mom spamming folks with photos of us in matching pajamas, taking our baby to see Santa, and generally soaking up the season as a family in awe of our newest addition.  Until then, here’s to all you warriors: the ones struggling with the decision to attend a family gathering, the ones actively going through a treatment cycle or reading through surrogate profiles or researching adoption agencies, the ones waiting for it to be their turn to announce a pregnancy, and the ones who are living it up now in the hope that next year’s celebration looks a lot different.  I wish you a very merry Christmas and happy holidays filled with whatever it is you need in this moment plus a stocking full of baby dust. 

—Chelsea Lantto, who serves on the MFA leadership committee, is a manufacturing executive on a journey to persistently pursue parenthood, currently via IVF. You can find her talking about all things infertility on Instagram: @thepersistentpineapple.