When Infertility Becomes Abuse in Marriage
The hidden abuse behind childlessness
Although I’ve written frequently about the inner ache and pain of infertility, until recently I hadn’t fully confronted a deeper, unspoken hurt that can accompany it — abuse inflicted by those who should offer love and compassion during our darkest moments.
I recently met Nankunda* and she bravely shared her story with me. It is a story that brought me to tears, and also made me realize how blessed I am. And it is a story that shows the power of a woman’s courage and how God uses all things for His good and His glory.
This is her story.
A difficult story about marital abuse, infertility, and the pain of being blamed for what you cannot control.
The years that changed everything
I fell in love and got married at the age of 24. Full of hope, I envisioned a bustling household and had great dreams for the future. I never imagined how differently it would turn out.
But the passing of the first five years brought only silence and growing tension. In many Ugandan communities, a woman’s worth is deeply tied to her ability to bear children, and childlessness is unjustly blamed solely on the wife I was viewed as a failure and as a disappointment.
As the years stretched to 10, and then 15, my home transformed into a place of profound sorrow. My husband’s family began to heavily pressure him to remarry. While I dutifully endured endless medical checkups and traditional herbal treatments, my husband refused to undergo testing himself.
When infertility became a weapon
The stigma escalated into severe gender-based abuse. My husband began bringing other women into the home, subjecting me to daily emotional cruelty, name-calling, and physical violence. I was once beaten by my husband and lost two of my toenails.
Neighbours and community members shunned me, and even my own extended family, pressured by patriarchal customs, urged me to stay and endure the abuse.
The abuse took a severe toll on my mental and physical health. I often felt entirely isolated, with my dignity stripped away.
Many women in Uganda, especially those who are childless, are facing similar hardships.
Choosing survival over suffering
Realizing my life was in danger and that the marriage offered nothing but sustained trauma, I summoned the courage to leave. I fled the marital home with nothing but a few belongings, severing ties with the toxic environment.
Rebuilding my life was initially grueling, but it allowed me to find peace and rediscover my inherent worth outside of motherhood.
Today, I am a survivor.
I stand as a fierce advocate against gender-based violence, using my painful past to mentor younger women and campaign for cultural shifts that decouple a woman’s value from her fertility.
*Her name is changed for her own protection. I chose Nankunda because it means “one who is loved”, and the lady behind this story is beloved by God.
Resources for victims of abuse
If you, or someone you know, has been the victim of abuse, please consider reaching out to some of these organizations for support. You are not alone.
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