COLUMN: Conversations about fertility and loss must be more open and inclusive

You'll rarely find this writer lamenting the lack of male voices anywhere, because, well, there is no deficiency. The most recent data I can find, from 2015, suggests that across news and current affairs shows on Irish radio, male voices made up 72 percent. Undoubtedly, significant efforts have been made to address this disparity, and we hear far more female voices now than a decade ago, but we can all agree that men are in no immediate danger of being silenced about any given topic. However, there are some subjects about which you will rarely hear male voices speak, and one of these is infertility.

Hands up: having decided at a very young age that being a parent was not for me, I will never fully comprehend the impact and anguish of infertility or pregnancy loss, of desperately wanting children and being unable to have them. I have witnessed it at close quarters with dear friends who have undertaken that journey; some have become parents, others have had to accept with sadness, even heartbreak, that they will not. As a society, we do not acknowledge this pain enough, nor the sheer toll it takes on people’s health, finances or relationships, be they heterosexual or otherwise. The physical and emotional pain of an unsuccessful IVF cycle or miscarriage is shrouded in secrecy and sometimes, still, even shame. Women are entitled to no paid leave, their grief and loss often silent and unrecognised in workplaces. It was only in 2023 that the State began publicly funding assisted human reproduction treatment, including IVF – that is a whole other conversation. And while infertility – whether through being unable to conceive or unable to carry a pregnancy to term - takes a huge toll on women, it is very rarely we hear how it affects men.

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BBC presenter Thomas Niblock and former footballer and current intercounty manager Oisin McConville present a weekly podcast called the 'GAA Social', each episode featuring an in-depth interview with a guest with a Gaelic games connection. Some deeply moving and powerful conversations have been had, but none more so than last week with Johnny Glynn, a former Galway and now New York hurler. Both Glynn and Niblock, in a remarkable conversation, shared their own experiences with their partners of infertility, multiple miscarriages, ectopic pregnancies and of IVF. Johnny Glynn had just captained New York to win the Lory Meagher cup in Croke Park. Days before, he and his wife Serena learned that their most recent round of IVF had failed. It’s hard to comprehend the contrasting emotions of that week. Niblock’s wife Kirstie had just experienced her third miscarriage. What made the episode so moving and so powerful wasn’t just the subject matter of fertility, loss and heartbreak, but the simple fact that two men were talking about it at all.

Infertility is an emotionally brutal experience, often entangled with layered and conflicting feelings of grief, hope, disappointment, shame, and isolation. Culturally, the narrative around it remains largely female. Fertility clinics speak of 'women’s health', media stories more often than not feature women’s voices, and online communities are typically dominated by female perspectives. Which is entirely reasonable; women do bear the brunt - but when Glynn and Niblock opened up about their shared journeys, they did something rare. They gave voice to the silent pain carried by many men.

Why is it so uncommon to hear men speak like this? For generations, boys and have been taught to “man up”, to suppress their emotions, to be stoic. When it comes to reproductive struggles, many men feel they should remain strong for their partners, and in doing so, bury their own grief and disappointment. Men’s feelings, though, are not secondary, nor irrelevant.

More conversations are happening. Soccer pundit and former player Richie Sadlier has spoken movingly about his and his wife Fiona’s fertility issues. Psychologist David Coleman has written about how infertility can undermine male identity, stirring feelings of failure and inadequacy that often go unspoken. Occasionally, we read features where couples are interviewed, but – and this is so important - the real power in this conversation was that it was two men talking to each other about their feelings and experiences, in their rawest, most vulnerable state. Niblock has since stated - unsurprisingly - that the reaction to the episode has surpassed all others.

These conversations are necessary because when men allow themselves to feel, to talk, even to cry, they create space for other men to speak up in their own circles, showing them it is safe to do so. There is enormous power in male vulnerability, not to be confused with weakness. When men open up about their own pain – particularly the type of pain that challenges traditional, nonsensical ideas of masculinity, they are not just helping themselves – they are literally helping to rewrite unhelpful, repressive cultural norms, building healthier societies with greater empathy. The tenderness with which both men spoke about their wives was also incredibly moving. That is real masculinity.

Oisín McConville described it as a 'privilege' to listen to Glynn and Niblock’s conversation. It should also be a call to action, for more men to speak, for more platforms to amplify their voices, and for more mental health supports to be developed. Men also need to add their voices to the growing calls for paid miscarriage leave for women.

The conversation should also serve as a reminder to those prone to joking or asking intrusive questions about people’s plans to have children to shut up and mind their business.

Conversations about fertility and loss must be more open and more inclusive. As Johnny and Thomas have proved, there is great power and strength in speaking the unspeakable.