Struggling With Infertility Is a Form of Grief

You Have Lost A Dream That No One Sees

When we think about grief, most of us immediately think of death—the loss of a loved one, a pet, or something we can physically see and name. But grief isn’t limited to visible or tangible losses. Infertility is also grief—a quiet, private grief that often goes unseen and unspoken.

According to ChatGPT:

“Grief is the process of adjusting to life after a meaningful loss. It involves a range of experiences—such as sadness, anger, confusion, guilt, and even relief—and affects how we think, feel, behave, and relate to others. Grief isn’t something to ‘get over’—it’s something we learn to carry and live with, often reshaping how we see the world and ourselves.”

When you’re struggling with infertility, you’re grieving the dream of the life you envisioned for yourself. You may not have physically lost a child, but you’ve lost something just as meaningful: the vision you held of your future, your identity as a parent, your hopes month after month.

The grief of infertility is often invisible to others. No one sees:

• How long you’ve been trying.
• The endless cycle of charting your temperature, changing your diet, trying alternative therapies like acupuncture, or proceeding with more invasive treatments.
• The monthly rollercoaster of hope and disappointment, when a missed period sparks hope only to lead to heartbreak again.

And often, those around us with good intentions say things that we don’t want to hear:

• “You just need to relax and it will happen!”
• “Have you tried ___?”
• “You are not getting any younger—you should really consider doing IVF.”

While others see the “normal” life you appear to live, they often have no idea of the emotional toll this journey carries.

It Is Okay To Grieve

Many people struggling with infertility question whether they’re even allowed to grieve—especially when there’s no visible loss. But this experience is real, and your grief is valid.

Infertility brings constant questions:

• Are we trying hard enough?
• Should we be doing something differently?
• Will we regret it if we don’t try everything?
• What if we never become parents?
• What will that mean for our identity or our relationship?

These aren’t just medical questions—they’re existential ones. And facing them day after day takes courage.

If you’re in the middle of this experience, I just want you to know that you are seen and you are not alone. It’s okay to feel sad, angry, confused, guilty—even relieved. These are all part of the grieving process. There will be days you feel better. There may be days you think you’ve moved on—until someone says something and the pain suddenly comes back. That’s normal too.

You Carry More Than You Think

I once heard someone describe grief like water. The amount of water doesn’t shrink, but your container grows. Over time, you build the capacity to hold that grief alongside other emotions—joy, hope, love, and even peace.

This journey might be challenging, but it doesn’t define you. You may not be carrying a child in your womb, but you carry more than you could ever imagine—resilience and deep inner strength.

Sending each and everyone of you lots of love.
Maybo