This post is both personal and professional for me. It’s something I’ve been thinking about writing for a long time. One day, I finally sat down and started- and I found that sharing my journey was both healing and helpful.
Before we begin, I want to say that my experience with infertility is just that – mine. Infertility looks different for everyone. Each journey comes with its own challenges, traumas, and emotions. I’ll also be using some common terms and acronyms from the fertility community, which I’ll explain along the way.
Where It All Started
My journey began long before I started TTC (trying to conceive). In my early 20s, I noticed my periods were irregular and began flagging this to my doctors. Even though I wasn’t ready for kids yet, I wanted to be proactive about my health and fertility.
They tested me several times for PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome), but I was always borderline. Still, I kept checking in over the years. So, when my husband and I finally decided to start trying, my anxiety spiked. I already knew my body operated differently, and I felt like I was beginning the journey already behind.
The Trying Phase
In the beginning, I tracked everything- temperature, ovulation, period- using apps and test strips. Some months I ovulated; others I didn’t. The two-week wait (TWW) between ovulation and the expected period became a stressful, obsessive window of time.
Every twinge made me wonder:
Was that implantation? Was this a sign?
I spent hours Googling symptoms and reading forums. After many months of “failing” (as it felt), we were referred to a fertility clinic.
Getting Diagnosed
Both my husband and I completed testing. I was formally diagnosed with PCOS- something I expected. What we didn’t expect was a male factor infertility diagnosis.
His sperm showed low motility (speed), poor concentration (low numbers), and some morphology (shape) issues.
The news felt like a gut punch.
When it was “just” my body, I felt more in control. But once both of us were involved, I felt like my chances of becoming a mom had evaporated. I did my best to manage my emotions, knowing he was also navigating his own feelings.
Our doctor was kind and clear. She recommended we join the IVF waitlist (which was 16-24 months) and, in the meantime, try medicated cycles and IUI (intrauterine insemination). IUI is a process by which they place the sperm sample directly into the uterus – which gives them a head start.
First Round of IUI
IUI isn’t covered by insurance and cost us around $600 per cycle. After two months of cycle tracking and medication, I finally developed a dominant follicle, and we scheduled the first IUI.
I became fixated on sperm count. The ideal number was 10 million. Ours was only 1.1 million.
That TWW was brutal. I took a test at 9 DPO (days post ovulation), saw two lines, and got excited- only to learn that the ovulation trigger shot I had taken could cause a false positive up to 12 days later.
Sure enough, my period came. And I was devastated.
Asking for Help
At this point, my emotions felt out of control. Even though I am a therapist, I knew I needed support. I felt like I “should” have been able to manage it alone- but I wasn’t.
Therapy gave me the space I desperately needed to process what I was feeling. I didn’t need to be brave, or positive, or grateful. I just needed to be.
Rounds Two and Three
We tried again. Sperm count: 2.1 million.
Another negative.
At the same time, I was surrounded by loved ones getting pregnant with what seemed like ease. Everyone was kind and supportive, but I hated feeling like people were tiptoeing around me.
We decided to try one final round of IUI before borrowing money for IVF- a privilege we were lucky to have.
This time, therapy helped me stay grounded. I didn’t obsess or Google everything. I stayed more present. I coped.
Sperm count: 4 million- not ideal, but better.
The Positive Test
I got through that TWW a little easier. When my period didn’t come, I tested: two lines. I tested again. Still positive.
I called the clinic to confirm enough time had passed since the ovulation trigger. It had. Two days later, while walking through IKEA, I got the call:
It was real. I was pregnant.
What Came Next
Pregnancy itself- and the emotions that came with it- is another story for another day. But I can say that coping with infertility changed me, both personally and professionally.
I still love working with children, teens, and families. But I now feel a strong pull toward supporting others walking this complex, emotional road through infertility, pregnancy, and beyond.
Infertility brings up more than just physical symptoms- it challenges our beliefs, identities, and hopes in deep, unexpected ways. If you’re on this path too, please know this:
You are not alone.
If You’re Going Through This…
Whether you’re TTC, starting fertility treatments, recovering from loss, or just beginning to ask questions, your experience is valid. If you’re struggling, I encourage you to talk to someone- whether it’s a therapist, support group, or trusted friend.
There’s no right way to cope. There’s just your way.
And that’s enough.
