Infertility Isn’t Just Sad... It’s an Identity Crisis

Infertility reshapes you in ways you never expect.
It’s not just a waiting season; it’s a becoming one.

For years, my body was in a constant state of fight.
Endometriosis surgeries, recovery, pain, uncertainty… I gave everything I had to try to figure out what was wrong with me and then to figure out how to manage it and feel somewhat like a healthy human being.

After trying for four years and finally becoming pregnant, only to miscarry. We talked about fertility treatments, and we came to the conclusion that we weren’t going to pursue fertility treatments. Not because we didn’t want to be parents, it was because my body had already been through enough, and in complete honesty, my body and hormones had been fighting each other my whole life - I was scared to add more hormones and medications to the mix.

We tried for another year, then decided we were done. At first, I felt such relief; it felt like the world was lifted off my shoulders.

But nothing prepared me for what came next.

The stillness after the fight.
The silence after years of trying, hoping, pushing.
That’s when the grief really set in, not just for what I might never have, but for who I thought I’d be.

Infertility isn’t just sad or disappointing.
It’s disorienting.

You watch your friends and family members move into new seasons of life — pregnancy, parenthood, family milestones — while you’re standing still, trying to find your footing in a version of adulthood that looks nothing like theirs.

The conversations change.
The group chats shift.
And without anyone meaning to, you start to feel like you’re existing on the outside of a world you once assumed you’d belong to.

It’s lonely in a way that’s hard to explain.
Not just because people don’t understand, but because you don’t fully understand yourself anymore either.

Over time, I’ve realized that infertility doesn’t just take away the future you imagined…it makes you reevaluate who you are right now.

Who am I if I’m not a mom?
What’s my purpose going forward?
Where do I pour all this love, nurturing, and energy I’d been saving for a child?

There are no easy answers.
I’m still learning how to live in a world that looks nothing like I thought it would.

Maybe this chapter isn’t about finding the answers.
Maybe it’s about noticing who we’re becoming,
and learning to meet ourselves here, in our present state.

If you’re in this chapter too...

You’re not alone, WE are not alone.
Even when it feels like the world has moved on without you, there are others quietly navigating the same questions, the same ache, the same search for meaning.

This isn’t the life we planned, but it’s still a life worth showing up for.
Day by day, moment by moment, we keep finding our way.