Grief and Infertility

Today I'm putting my grief coach hat on instead of my death doula hat because I want to talk about something I don't think we talk about enough, and that's infertility grief.

When most people think about grief, they think about someone dying. But grief can show up in so many other ways too. It can show up after pregnancy loss. It can show up when you're struggling with infertility. It can show up with primary infertility, secondary infertility, or after months or years of trying to conceive and wondering why it just isn't happening.

Looking back on my own journey, I can finally see that's exactly what I was dealing with.

I wasn't just grieving the pregnancies I lost. I was grieving the life I thought I'd have by then. I was grieving the family I thought I'd have. I was grieving the picture I'd painted in my head, and every month that picture felt like it was getting farther away.

On top of that, I carried around so much guilt because I already had children. I kept thinking, "Shouldn't I just be grateful?" The thing is, I was grateful. Loving the children you already have and grieving the child you're hoping for are not opposites. Both of those things can exist at the same time, even if people don't always understand that.

Then you have everyone else's opinions.

People tell you to just relax. They tell you it'll happen when you stop trying. They tell you to be thankful for what you already have. I even had a doctor ask me how many children I had, and when I answered, he said, "Isn't that enough?"

Comments like that are exactly why so many people keep their infertility struggles to themselves.

I know this isn't my usual death doula content, but grief doesn't only happen after someone dies. Sometimes you're grieving the future you thought you'd have. Sometimes you're grieving a pregnancy. Sometimes you're grieving that your family doesn't feel complete yet, even if you already have children.

If that's where you are right now, I don't want to tell you how you should handle it because there isn't one right way. I just want you to know that what you're feeling is a form of grief, and it's okay to call it that. If journaling helps, journal. If getting outside helps, do that. If talking to someone you trust helps, do that. Find the things that help you get through today, and then tomorrow, do it again.

I think the biggest thing we can do is stop shaming people for grieving infertility, pregnancy loss, or the family they thought they were going to have. The more we talk about it, the less alone people have to feel.