My Infertility Journey: The Parts I Never Said Out Loud

3 days ago
4 min read

Trigger warning: This post discusses infertility and pregnancy.

This is a deeply personal reflection of my experience. Every infertility journey is different, and outcomes are not guaranteed. If you’re navigating this season, please know your story is valid no matter what it looks like.

The Start...

In the spirit of transparency and living in my truth…here goes nothing.

Before getting married, I didn’t want children.

After getting married, I figured… why not?

But hearing that it might not be possible for me to get pregnant naturally?

That did something to me.

It made me question my womanhood.

My role as a wife.

It made me feel… broken.

There were times I was on the fence about having children.If I’m being honest, I don’t recall ever really wanting children prior to marriage. I always saw myself as an adoptive mom.

It wasn’t until 2018 that I truly entertained the idea of having children.But as time passed and pregnancy never happened…

I found myself right back on that fence again.

When Trying Didn’t Look Like Trying

In April 2019, David and I agreed we would start trying to conceive.

A week later, I got off birth control.

And life just… continued.

Quietly, I was trying.

I started tracking ovulation.

Watching for signs.

Hoping something would change.

But for four months...it was nothing.

No positive ovulation strips.

No temperature shifts.

Not even signs of ovulation.

But I told myself:You have to try for at least a year before seeing a fertility specialist.

When My Body Stopped Making Sense

Then things started to feel… off.

September 2019: Nothing. No cycle. No ovulation. No pregnancy.

October: A 3-day, really light cycle. Still no answers.

November: The heaviest cycle I had ever experienced.

Clots so large, I genuinely thought I was having a miscarriage.But that was impossible...because I was never pregnant.

And still—no one had answers.

December came, and my cycle showed up again… and again… and again.

Heavy. Confusing. Unpredictable.

I can vividly remember thinking:What is happening to my body?

The “Maybe” That Broke Me

In January 2020, I finally saw a provider.

And what I got was…“You may have PCOS” mixed with "This is your new normal".

That was it.

No further testing. No real explanation. No plan.

I left feeling:

unheard
dismissed
alone
and even more broken than before, because just like that...my body wasn't working the way that it should.

Advocating for Myself

After 10 more months of dealing with heavy, unpredictable cycles, I knew I needed more.

So I finally went for a second and third opinion.

January 2021:New OB-GYN and a fertility specialist.

This time, I got answers.

Polyps.

Fibroids (inside and outside my uterus).

Thick endometrial lining.

Possible blocked tube.

Low egg reserve.

left that appointment feeling two things at once:

Relieved… because something was finally found.

And heartbroken… because of what it meant.

The Hard Decision

The fertility specialist told us it would be very difficult to conceive without treatment.

And I had to make a decision.

After talking with David and my therapist, I decided:

I didn’t want to go through fertility treatments.

Not for a possibility.

I couldn’t imagine:

putting my body through more
carrying that emotional weight
or asking myself “why can’t I just be normal?” one more time

So I chose something different.

I chose to focus on:

my health
my healing
my peace

And we began exploring adoption (especially since I always saw myself as an adoptive mom).

Letting Go…and Then

In May 2021, I had surgery to essential clean out my uterus and help regulate my cycles.

By August and September, I finally had normal 28-day cycles. I felt hopeful again.

Not fully ready, to try to conceive, but hopeful that I would no longer feel broken.

Then October came.

And my cycle didn’t.

I assumed something was wrong...again.

Immediately called my doctor. Got instructions to take medication…

But first...“Take a pregnancy test.”

The Moment That Didn't Make Sense

October 21, 2021.

6:30 AM.

I took the test.

Positive.

I was shocked. Nervous. Terrified.

And honestly? In denial.

Because how?

When?

The dates weren't adding up.

The math wasn’t math’n.

Nothing about it made sense.

But one thing I know for sure?

My baby is a blessing.

What Infertility Really Feels Like

I struggled with infertility alone.

I had many days and nights crying non-stop.

Feeling broken.

Feeling inadequate.

Wondering why no one could tell me what was wrong.

It was bittersweet watching family and friends have babies.

It was painful hearing:

“When are y’all going to have kids?”

And this is why I say: Please… don’t ask women that question.

It’s honestly none of your business or your concern.

Because you never know what someone is carrying quietly.

What I Want You to Know

If you’re in this journey right now…

You are not alone.

Everything you’re feeling is valid.

Infertility is more than just not getting pregnant.It’s physical, mental, emotional and often financial.

And so many people go through it unnoticed.

Infertility is more common than many people realize, yet it’s often experienced in silence. If you’re looking to better understand infertility from a medical perspective, you can learn more here: https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/infertility

And if I can offer anything from my experience, it’s this:

Advocate for yourself. If something feels off, keep going until someone listens.
Take care of your mental health. Therapy helped me more than I can put into words.
Give yourself grace. (And trust me, I know that's easier said than done.) This journey is not linear.

I’m always here to listen, but please don’t hesitate to seek support from a licensed professional when you need it.

Closing

This is just one part of my story and I'm sharing it because I don't always have the words to say outloud.

And while my journey had an outcome I didn’t expect, I know that’s not everyone’s story and that matters.

If this is your story or even a little part of it, I want you to know you don’t have to carry this alone.

If you feel comfortable, I’d love to hear from you.