Honing empathy

Empathy. A word so many of us know and yet many fail to master on the first attempt. To be empathetic means you have to practice, being mindful of those around you and learning how to read body language and gestures. We're not naturally wired to be empathetic. Part of this has to do with survival and maintaining one's own sanity. Another part is that being empathetic means you have to take risks and open yourself up to be hurt or attacked. It's a hard thing to do, but something I believe is ultimately rewarding on so many levels. Empathy allows us to form relationships, to strengthen bonds. Empathy allows us to resolve arguments, seeing a situation from the other party's point of view and working towards a resolution. And, ultimately, I believe that empathy is important for our own happiness.

The past week has been one where I've been observing the world around me. This has to do with the fact that I refuse to analyze (= freak out) about symptoms or lack there of. But it also has to do with a number of posts from other bloggers and conversations with women from this community. Keiko's recent post left me with a heavy heart. The fact that she is struggling because she has fears with this pregnancy but is feeling like she has to separate her hard-won pregnancy from her experience with infertility resonated with me on so many levels. Other posts from two NICU moms were equally hard, as their pain and frustration is so very real, yet something I know I can only barely understand. Conversations with MissConceptions and HRF and a post from Sass have had me reflecting about post partum and thinking about the realities of a newborn (amazing, yet completely overwhelming). And then there's been the posts from those who are still trying to find their path to resolution. From Trisha, Tutti, Toni, and so many others as they unapologetically share their stories, their hopes and their fears. This recent post from Jo really drove home the fact that though infertility and loss are terrible, life-altering and painful things, none of us are cursed nor have we brought this upon ourselves. And then there's been the ongoing conversations with Mo.

A big part of me reading and reflecting on all of these posts and conversations has to do with how important all of these women (and so many more in this community) have become in my life. Yes, infertility brought me to finding them, but the connection I now feel is more than just infertility and loss. When they hurt, I hurt. When they're scared, I'm worried about them as well as holding my breath for reassuring/good news. And when they are attacked, I'm ready to take fingers.

But another thing (mainly with bloggers that I don't know well outside of their writing) is that I emphasize with them. With the NICU moms, I have no way to be able to fully understand the frustration, stress and sadness that they are feeling. But I can feel that frustration, stress and sadness in their words. And know that even if I can't fully understand, what they need most from me is not understanding, but someone to reach out and say "I'm sorry."

This past week, the Bitter Infertiles received their first negative comment. I won't go into specifics here (nor will I speak for Shelley or Mo) as this is something we will address and discuss more on the podcast. But I will speak from my end that I viewed the comment as written by someone who was coming from a place of great pain and frustration. That to me, it seemed that she was directing all of her anger about infertility at us because she felt is was the only safe thing to do.

Immediately after reading the comment, I thought of a recent email response Lori had sent me about responding to hatred and one-sidedness. The entire email is a gem and I will be posting what I've learned from Lori soon, but it was this part is filled with so much wisdom.

I say go beyond it to the whys. The people who are hateful and one-sided are stuck and you may never change their minds or their hearts, especially by returning fire. The only way to turn around a hateful person is to walk alongside her, in her shoes, so to speak, and respond to her from a place of empathy. Even then, you may get hatred back. But it wouldn't be about you, but about her. . . . Seek first to understand, then be understood. 

As tempting as it is to defend myself and my recent news (and all the pain, blood, depression, anger and bitterness that both Grey and I have experienced to date), I find that instead I'm pausing and reflecting on the author of the comment. Thinking about where she is coming from and what must be happening in her life that she would write this. That maybe her marriage is suffering from all the stress of this journey, in a similar way that mine did. That maybe she feels isolated and unable to talk about what she's living with. That maybe she doesn't see a road to resolution or is stuck regarding what steps to take. That maybe she has been told fertility treatments are the only option and she believes she can't afford them. That maybe there's been so much loss and pain, that she no longer has hope.

And I wonder, if she was given an outlet; an opportunity to share her story in a place where she felt safe, if those things would change.

I'm not naive. I learned long ago with Angie that some people are simply too broken for empathy to work. That they will suck you dry. But Angie is also an extreme case. And even if you get burned in the process, nothing is truly lost for trying to reach out.

I'm learning. Learning to be more empathetic and mindful of those around me. Learning how to be unapologetic (this is the hard part) about sensitive at the same time. And learning that just because someone continues to direct anger at me, that I don't need to attack them, only put distance and defend myself. That is by far the hardest thing.