Every time Gov. Tim Walz talks on a national stage about his and his wife’s yearslong struggle with infertility, countless people who’ve shared that same precarious journey can’t help but tear up.
Yuen: Why it matters when men like Walz speak up about infertility
We usually hear about the struggle to have children through the woman’s perspective. Walz is giving a voice to men who might be suffering in silence.
Many of them are men.
Reed Osell, of Richfield, was shocked this election season to hear his own governor talk about what Walz has called the “hell of infertility,” about praying for good news and feeling the pit in his stomach after getting the call that the treatments hadn’t worked.
“It wasn’t by chance that when we welcomed our daughter into the world, we named her Hope,” Walz said this summer at a Pennsylvania rally on the day Kamala Harris announced him as her running mate.
Osell and his wife, Caitlin, tried for years to conceive, often under a cloud of what he describes as “silent hopelessness.” But while Caitlin eventually leaned on friends to help navigate her anguish and uncertainty, Osell rarely expressed his trauma in one-on-one conversations with his buddies.
He gets choked up when Walz shares his experience with infertility because he’s never heard a male public figure speaking so openly about a topic so vulnerable, even taboo.
Osell wondered: Did the governor, like him, suffer in silence?
“A lot of people go through infertility, and it’s one of the largest group of people no one ever talks about,” he said. “It felt validating to know that you can talk about it, and there shouldn’t be any shame.”
Infertility affects 1 in 6 people of reproductive age. About a third of infertility cases are traced back to the female partner, a third to the male partner, and a third is a combination of both partners or is unknown.
If you’re a parent or tried to be one, it’s possible you’ve felt that sink of sorrow that accompanied every negative pregnancy test. Maybe you and your partner sought in vitro fertilization, a pricey gamble costing tens of thousands that could produce the most beautiful payoff or none at all. You probably have friends or family who’ve undergone such treatments.
In straight couples, it’s the woman in the relationship who bears the brunt of the procedures — from hormone injections to the embryo transferral — so infertility is largely seen as her struggle. But it’s his, too.
Osell is reminded of a fishing tackle box of syringes, vials and pills his wife, who already underwent surgery to treat endometriosis, needed to take during IVF. Sometimes he helped Caitlin administer the shots into her abdomen because the pain and stress was too much for her alone to endure. He felt guilty witnessing the toll it was taking on her and powerless to help. He ignored his own anxiety and stress and believed his role was simply to support Caitlin.
“That being said, all of that anxiety and stress needed to go somewhere,” Osell said. “I had trouble talking to her about it.”
In October 2021, the couple drained their savings to undergo a single round of IVF totaling about $25,000. It didn’t work.
But shortly after, the Osells were stunned when a pregnancy test came back positive. Their daughter, Nora, was naturally conceived, though likely with the help of the extra hormones Caitlin was taking during the IVF process.
Today, 2-year-old Nora is wicked smart and loves to laugh and socialize. Osell said if other men in his circle are ever struggling to start a family, they should know that they can talk to him. With Walz speaking up, he said, it can help erase the stigma and shame and maybe embolden others to share their private pain. “For everyone who had gone through that process and kept it close to their chest, the weight of carrying that stress was relieved a little bit,” he said.
Julie Berman, a Minnesota-based advocate for the national infertility association Resolve, said Walz has become a role model for others who can’t have children. She calls it “not a woman’s issue, but an everyone issue.”
“He kind of nailed it,” she said. “People who go through infertility have depression rates on par with people who have cancer. I and many others just felt seen. He gets it.”
Like almost every human experience, IVF has been weaponized by our politics today. The issue reached a boiling point in February when the Alabama Supreme Court ruled that frozen embryos created by IVF are children, prompting clinics in the state to halt treatments. That decision was issued in a pair of wrongful death cases brought by couples whose frozen embryos were destroyed in an accident at a fertility clinic.
That led to a tidal wave of outcry. Alabama Republicans soon passed a short-term fix to reopen clinics, and former President Donald Trump said he would not only protect IVF but require the government or insurance companies to cover the cost of the service. IVF advocates in Minnesota are mounting a renewed push next session to require insurers to cover infertility treatment.
For his part, Walz has faced a backlash for mischaracterizing the type of procedure he and his wife, Gwen, underwent. It was not IVF, as he stated, but another popular service known as IUI, or intrauterine insemination. IUI involves injecting sperm into the uterus and does not involve creating or destroying embryos and thus hasn’t invited the same kind of opposition from abortion foes.
Michael Getman of Eden Prairie said he wasn’t bothered when Walz misspoke. “No one gets media coaching for their fertility journey,” he said. “Wherever you’re starting, it’s not like, ‘You’re not part of the gang!’ It’s more like, ‘It sucks.’ It doesn’t matter what stage you’re in.”
Getman and his wife, Meta, had been through just about every stage, including multiple rounds of both IUI and IVF. “The emotional toll after each failed cycle is brutal,” he said.
But the couple’s final option, conceiving through IVF using donor eggs, was a success. Their twin daughters, Ellie and Addie, turned 8 last summer.
When Getman reflects on being a parent, and all of the joys and challenges that come with it, he often thinks of the road to getting there. “We worked so hard for them,” he said, tearing up. “It makes the outcome that much better.”
Let’s remember that the path of infertility is often shared by both a man and a woman. When Walz lifts the curtain on the pain felt by men yearning to be dads, it sends a powerful message that no one on that journey should have to suffer alone.
The center provided a gathering place in north Minneapolis for those who weren’t always welcome elsewhere.