I’ve memorized the patterns on the ceiling at my doctor’s office. There’s nothing particularly unique about them, but after months of lying on a bed staring up during countless procedures, I can picture every spot of missing paint and every crack between each panel. I’ve counted the panels directly above the bed—there are 10—to distract myself from yet another procedure that they say will “feel like cramps,” but makes me want to pass out from pain. These ceilings have become a metaphor for my journey through fertility treatments—seemingly ordinary, frustratingly flawed and always staring me straight in the face.
As a perinatal and early childhood mental health therapist and the co-owner of a postpartum subscription box company, my life is all about helping moms handle the emotional rollercoaster of motherhood. Every day, I talk to women dealing with the ups and downs of pregnancy, childbirth and the wild ride that is postpartum life. I create thoughtful care packages to provide comfort and support to new and expecting moms. And I’m so grateful for these experiences.
But here’s the kicker: Despite all my expertise and passion for maternal wellness, my own journey to motherhood has been anything but straightforward.
Like so many others, my fertility journey has been marked by challenges I never expected. In high school, sex education teachers made it seem like you could get pregnant just by looking at someone of the opposite sex, so I spent years being careful and calculated about not getting pregnant.
Despite knowing the facts and statistics, I never dreamed things wouldn’t go as planned when I was ready to conceive. Turns out, my reproductive system didn’t get the memo about my meticulously crafted timelines.
So instead of lying in bed awake due to a newborn, I was in bed awake wishing for one.
The intersection of my professional life and personal struggles made this journey uniquely complicated. As I guided others through their perinatal experiences, I was simultaneously navigating my own, with all the hopes, disappointments and physical demands that come with it. Anyone who has gone through fertility treatment knows that the timing is exacting, and it doesn’t pause for a busy workday. There are shots and medications that make you feel like a walking hormone rather than a human.
I’ve had ultrasounds in the middle of a workday, only to be told I didn’t have enough mature follicles for IUI. I’ve laid staring at that ceiling after another IUI cycle and then headed back to work once my 10-minute “lay here and manifest” window had passed. I’ve started my period between sessions, acknowledging, and then compartmentalizing, my disappointment so that I can be present for my next client.
As a therapist, I’m trained to hold space for others’ emotions, providing a safe and empathetic environment for their experiences. And I love working with my clients and being able to provide this for them. But in my fertility journey, this skill became both a blessing and a curse.
On one hand, my training helped me navigate my own emotional responses with a degree of self-awareness and resilience. On the other hand, the expectation to remain composed and supportive for my clients often seemed insurmountable. There were days when I felt like an imposter, encouraging others to hold onto hope while grappling with my own quickly-fading supply of it.
Each time I discovered I was not pregnant, it got harder to just continue on with life as expected; and yet, there is little time for grief or anger or any of the other myriad of emotions experienced during this journey, because within days, the cycle begins again.
Through therapy and supervision, I worked diligently to ensure that my personal journey informed, but did not interfere with, my professional responsibilities. It was crucial that my experiences did not get projected onto my clients. I used supervision to process my own emotions and maintain clear boundaries, allowing me to be fully present and supportive in my clients’ journeys. This delicate balance was essential in providing effective care while navigating my own challenges.
Although navigating fertility challenges as a perinatal mental health therapist and mom-box company owner was undeniably complex, the fertility journey is complex regardless of personal or professional identity. It is a complicated journey, fraught with emotional and physical hurdles, that also cultivates a deeper sense of empathy, resilience, and purpose—a silver lining that often feels inadequate during the journey.
The fertility journey itself is such an intrinsic part of the transformation into motherhood, yet it is rarely acknowledged that way. This is especially true for those attempting to conceive their first child who are not already “established” in motherhood. The endless doctor visits, the meticulous tracking of cycles, the medications, the diet changes, and the emotional rollercoaster of hope and despair—all these experiences contribute to a gradual shift in identity.
This phase of life can be likened to a “lost trimester,” a period filled with the tasks and emotional labor of preparing for a child who has not yet arrived. Just as a traditional trimester involves physical and emotional changes in anticipation of a baby, this lost trimester involves profound personal growth and reshaping of identity. While undergoing fertility treatment, the tasks of motherhood are already all-consuming, from the sacrifices of one’s body to the emotional commitment to an unborn child.
The identity transformation that occurs during this period of time is profound. Just as the physical changes in a traditional pregnancy prepare a woman to nurture and sustain life, the emotional and psychological shifts during fertility treatment prepare her for the complexities of motherhood. This lost trimester is a testament to the strength and dedication of those on this journey, embodying the essence of maternal love and sacrifice long before the arrival of a child.
But here is where things can become uncertain—because the identity transformation has no known end date. The trying to conceive (TTC) period of fertility treatment is marked by a dual existence: living in the present while constantly planning and hoping for the future. It involves learning a new language of acronyms and procedures, becoming intimately familiar with the inner workings of one’s own body, and navigating a healthcare system that can sometimes feel impersonal and mechanistic. The emotional labor is immense, involving continuous self-education, advocacy, and resilience in the face of setbacks.
And yet, there is little acknowledgment of these changes and a dismissal of the notion that the identity shift has already begun. The journey is filled with silent milestones that go unnoticed by the outside world. Each negative test result brings a wave of grief akin to a loss, and each medical appointment can carry the weight of a lifetime’s worth of hopes and fears.
Yet, the lack of societal recognition for this phase can exacerbate feelings of inadequacy and invisibility. There is a cultural gap in understanding that the path to motherhood is not always linear or predictable. This phase deserves acknowledgment and validation, as it represents a significant chapter in the story of becoming a parent—it is the never-ending cycle of longing for something and healing from its absence throughout that also lays a foundation for the future, shaping a mother’s capacity for empathy, patience, and unwavering love.
In the uncertain world of fertility, what I know for sure from my work and my life are two things. First, the path to motherhood is rarely linear, and each step—no matter how difficult—contributes to the tapestry of our shared human experience. Second, support during this period is critical because by recognizing and honoring this “lost trimester,” we can validate the experiences of those on this path.
The challenges of the fertility journey shape a mother’s capacity for empathy, patience and unwavering love, even before the arrival of a child. The resilience and hope cultivated during this time lay a foundation for the future, allowing us to support each other through the complexities of life and motherhood.
