When The Story Change: A Chapter I Never Saw Coming. A Chapter I Never Saw Coming.
Like most women, I assumed motherhood would “just happen.” Psychologist Janet Jaffe refers to this as our reproductive story. The script we imagine for how and when we’ll become parents one day.
My script was pretty simple: surprise, joy, me getting to plan when I would conceive, and then everything falling into place. When it didn’t unfold that way, it felt as if the ground beneath me shifted.
I have a lifelong phobia of needles, the kind that makes me light-headed at a flu shot. So just the thought of IVF felt impossible… and yet I finally did it, again and again. Each cycle of hope and loss chipped away at the version of myself that I thought I knew.
The Grief That Has No Name
The hardest part wasn’t just the medical process. It was how invisible the pain felt. It is a silent kind of grief, with no easy way to explain why baby showers suddenly felt unbearable.
Life around us kept moving: work, pregnancy announcements, holidays, casual questions like, “So, when’s it gonna be your turn?” There was disappointment when we disclosed that a procedure might interrupt a celebration, as if it were an inconvenience we’d chosen. A doctor brushed off my tears with, “Just relax.” Someone once asked my husband, “What will you do if she can’t get pregnant?” Even our wish for privacy sometimes drew suspicion, as though setting boundaries and not sharing every detail meant we were somehow being secretive.
Psychologist Janet Jaffe notes that when infertility shatters our imagined story of becoming parents, we are forced to confront not just medical hurdles but a deep identity shift. She writes, “Infertility doesn’t just challenge the body; it challenges the story we tell about ourselves.” That truth helped me understand why the reactions around us, sometimes dismissive and sometimes curious, cut so deeply.
All of it opened my eyes to how unprepared most people are to sit with this kind of grief. That friends and family may never realize that when life doesn’t follow the expected script, the loss reaches far deeper than they might imagine. Especially if they have not lived it.
The Weight That Builds Over Time
What makes this kind of trauma especially complex is that it doesn't stem from a single event, but from a series of repeated events. Jaffe describes fertility trauma as cumulative and ongoing. Each cycle, each setback, each insensitive comment adds another layer to the weight you carry. It isn’t merely disappointment; it’s a rupture in identity, in one’s sense of belonging, and in the future you once imagined.
Why Naming It Matters
For a long time, I thought I was overreacting. That feeling this devastation about “just trying to conceive” somehow made me weak. However, research shows that 1 in 8 couples experience infertility, and many couples describe it as one of the most taxing seasons of their lives. As many as one-third of couples are dealing with unexplained infertility, which only deepens the uncertain grief.
When we name what we’re going through, we start to see it for what it is: a profound life disruption, not a personal failure. Acknowledging the grief makes space for compassion, for boundaries, and for support. You deserve to know that what you’re feeling is valid and far more common than it looks on the surface.
What Helped Me Hold On
There were no magic fixes. Just small, steady practices that tethered me to myself:
Setting boundaries: I stepped away from social media for months and said no to gatherings when I felt I needed space.
Leaning on the right people: I let my circle get smaller. I surrounded myself with those who could listen without judgment or push me for information that I wasn’t ready to share.
Grounding practices: Nothing fancy. Simple breathing, short journaling notes, and mindfulness before and after appointments.
Moving my body: Running and lifting weights became a safe outlet for emotions that felt stuck.
Therapy: A private space to process the grief, unhelpful comments, and the loss of the “old story." A place to help me create a new version of this story for myself.
These same skills: boundaries, grounding, movement, and therapy are often where I start with clients today. They don’t erase the pain, but they make it possible to keep going.
From Pain to Purpose
Glimmer Wellness Collective is a space created for women who carry a lot. From infertility and pregnancy loss, to the unseen emotional labor of being “the strong one” through all the transitions of motherhood. Here, you’ll find room to breathe and practical tools to support your healing.
I currently offer virtual sessions across New Jersey and in-person support locally in New Jersey, under the supervision of Jennifer Iacovone LPC. Click here to learn more about the practice and schedule a free 15-minute consultation.
If You’re Here, You’re Not Alone 💛
If you are in the middle of rewriting your own reproductive story, please know:
You are not too much.
You are not broken.
You deserve support right now.
You don’t have to go through this alone.
✨ Reach out to schedule a free 15-minute consultation.
Resources and Further Reading
Jaffe, J. (2017). Reproductive Trauma: Psychotherapy for Pregnancy Loss and Infertility Clients
Jaffe, J., & Diamond, M. O. (2011). Reproductive Trauma: Psychotherapy with Infertility and Pregnancy Loss Clients
Renzi, A. et al. (2023). Women’s Narratives on Infertility as a Traumatic Event — more than 40% of participants showed symptoms consistent with post-traumatic stress
Jaffe, J., & Diamond, R. (2005). Reproductive Trauma: Psychotherapy and Counseling for Infertility Clients
American Society for Reproductive Medicine (ASRM) (2020). Infertility and Mental Health Resources
Resolve: The National Infertility Association — https://resolve.org