Clearing the Noise So You Can Hear Yourself Again
It starts the moment you share your fertility truth. Maybe it’s with a friend, a colleague, a well-meaning family member.
You open the door just a crack—and suddenly the opinions flood in.
“Why don’t you try IVF?”
“Have you considered adoption?”
“Clock’s ticking—you don’t want to wait too long”
“Will you give xxx a brother or sister?”
“Just relax, it will happen.”
“Go on holiday—you’ll come back pregnant.”
“I did this & it worked”
“You’re too stressed. That’s probably why.”
And the one that stings the deepest:
“Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”
We don’t always share our fertility journey for advice. We share it to feel seen, validated—to be held in our vulnerability, to receive love and understanding. But instead, we’re often met with discomfort dressed up as solutions. And the space we so deeply crave? It disappears under the weight of their words.
But this is your journey.
Your body.
Your truth.
Sometimes it is super helpful but sometimes it is overwhelming.
They say it casually, as if these words don’t land like stones. As if your body, your grief, your hope is open for debate.
These comments often come from a place of discomfort, fear, or lack of understanding. But when you’re walking through the fertility challenges, what you need is not a solution shoved down your throat—you need space.
Space to feel, to grieve, to choose.
Space to listen to your body and decide what your next step is—if there even is one right now.
I’ll never forget sitting in the hospital room after my third ectopic pregnancy, when the doctor told me I had thirty minutes to decide whether to remove my remaining tube. Just like that. No real explanation, no space to process. I asked him, “Is my life/ health in danger?” (I knew my hormone levels were really low). He said, “No—but how many more ectopics do you want?” As if my fertility, my grief, my intuition—none of it mattered.
That moment changed everything for me. I didn’t say yes right away. I went home. I cried. I reflected. I asked myself what felt right. And the next day, I said no to the surgery. That same tube—yes, the one they wanted to remove—was the one I later conceived from, naturally, a year later.
What I’m trying to say is: you are the one living this.
Not the doctor. Not the friend with good intentions. Not the stranger online.
You. Your body, your emotions, your knowing.
Fertility is not a one-size-fits-all protocol. What works for one might not work for you. And that doesn’t make you wrong—it makes you wise enough to follow your own path.
The Hidden Impact of External Noise
What no one tells you is how loud other people’s voices can become inside your head. How their opinions can spiral into self-doubt:
Maybe I should be doing more.
Maybe I’m wasting time.
Maybe I don’t want it badly enough.
This emotional pressure can cause more harm than good, especially when you’re already feeling fragile. Fertility isn’t just a physical journey—it’s a deeply emotional one. And adding judgment or pressure doesn’t help anyone conceive.
Reclaiming the Power of Choice
Here’s the truth: You are allowed to do it your way. Whether that means IVF, IUI, donor conception, taking a break, going holistic, or not knowing what the hell to do right now.
You can:
- Pause treatments.
- Try acupuncture and womb massage.
- Meditate for connection.
- Sit with your grief instead of fixing it.
- Change your mind along the way.
- Take a break.
- Try Naturally then IVF or IVF then Naturally.
- Decide to stop trying – as painful as it is.
And you don’t owe anyone an explanation.
Practically Speaking: How to Set Boundaries
- Have a go-to line: “Thank you for your concern, but we’re keeping our journey private right now.”
- Limit who you share with: Protect your energy. Choose people who hold space without fixing.
- Unfollow or mute accounts that trigger comparison. You are not behind. You are on your own timeline.
And If You’re the One Giving Advice…
Pause. Ask if they want to talk about it. Ask what kind of support they need. Then listen. Really listen.
We need more women who hold each other, not fix each other. This journey is too sacred for shame.
So let them talk. Let them go. And come back to the only voice that truly matters—your own.
Main – Photo by Kiril Gruev