After my own pregnancy loss, I learned how quickly grief collides with logistics—labs, forms, calendars, acronyms. People offered hope as if it were medicine; some days it helped, some days it hurt. Here’s my stance: therapy can’t promise an outcome, but it can restore your footing in a process built on uncertainty. We make space for grief without abandoning hope—and for hope without denying grief.
You’re Not Broken—you’re in an Uncertain System
Fertility work invites control: track, time, optimize, perform. When cycles don’t go as planned, many people blame their bodies or their willpower. In therapy, we separate you from the process. We name what’s human (grief, anger, jealousy, relief, numbness) and what’s structural (waiting rooms, costs, medical care’s structure, ambiguous answers). That shift reduces self-blame and gives you back agency where it actually lives—how you care for yourself, how you set boundaries, how you make the next decision.
Grief Happens Before, During, and After
Loss here is layered: failed cycles, chemical pregnancies, miscarriages, endings you had to choose. That’s grief—even when others don’t recognize it. We practice “continuing bonds” (rituals, names, letters), mark anniversaries intentionally, and allow conflicting feelings to sit together. You’re allowed to love a future you imagined and still consider new paths if you want them. You’re allowed to pause. You’re allowed to stop.
Protect Your Nervous System, Not Just Your Calendar
Fertility care is physically and emotionally loud. We build “treatment hygiene”: predictable routines, sleep and light anchors, food before appointments, a post-appointment plan (walk, call, meal, nap). We prep for triggers—social media, baby showers, medical portals—and create scripts for updates so you don’t have to relive the story every time. With partners, we swap problem-solving marathons for short, scheduled check-ins so connection doesn’t become collateral damage.
There’s no “right” way to move through infertility, IVF, or pregnancy loss. There is just your way—held with compassion, steadied by structure, and witnessed by someone who won’t rush you. If this perspective resonates, I offer confidential, affirming support for women navigating these paths (and for partners who want to help without losing themselves).
This article is for general information and is not a substitute for medical or mental-health care. If you’re in crisis, call 988 in the U.S. or your local emergency number.
