WELCOME TO IVF*THIS
IVF was only the beginning.
Hi, I’m Amber Jean
the human behind ivf*this.
I started this space because I went looking for something I could not find: a place that talked about infertility like it actually feels. Not just the protocols, hormone levels, and “next steps.” Not just the carefully edited success stories. I mean the waiting. The money. The medication alarms. The grief that can hit in the grocery store, at a baby shower, during a commercial, or in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday when nobody else understands why. I came to this through multiple IVF cycles, pregnancy loss, and more decisions than I ever imagined having to make about how—or whether—I might become a parent. Somewhere along the way, I realized IVF was only one chapter of a much bigger story.
The asterisk means the rest of it*
The asterisk in IVF*THIS is for everything that can come after the original plan changes.
It is for failed cycles, miscarriage, reproductive loss, donor conception, surrogacy, adoption, stopping treatment, childlessness, relationship strain, identity shifts, and all the questions that do not come with a neat answer.
It is for the parts that often never make it into the consult.
And it is for the people trying to make sense of a life that got much bigger—and much more complicated—than a fertility treatment plan.
Why this became bigger than a blog.
Infertility changed the direction of my life in ways I never expected.
It deepened my desire to advocate for people navigating infertility, reproductive loss, and difficult family-building decisions. It also helped shape the work I want to do professionally.
I am completing my social work degree and continuing toward my long-term goal of becoming a Licensed Clinical Social Worker. My hope is to eventually provide therapeutic support for women and couples navigating infertility and all that can come with it: treatment stress, grief, pregnancy loss, relationship strain, decision fatigue, identity shifts, and the complicated emotional aftermath of plans changing.
I am also an ASRM student member and have spent much of my coursework researching infertility—especially the gaps in literature, policy, patient education, and the real-world support people often need outside of a clinic appointment.
Because a treatment plan is not the same thing as being prepared.
People deserve information that makes sense. They deserve emotional support that is not an afterthought. They deserve to be told the truth about what infertility can ask of a person, a relationship, a body, a budget, and a future.
What you’ll find here.
The Petri Dish is the unofficial brochure for the fine print.
It is where I share honest stories, useful resources, dark humor, hard conversations, and the things people often do not talk about until you are already living them.
You will find reflections on infertility, IVF, miscarriage, grief, mental health, relationships, treatment decisions, donor options, adoption, childlessness, advocacy, and figuring out what comes next when the path forward no longer looks like the one you pictured.
Some posts may make you feel seen. Some may give you language for something you have not known how to say. Some may help you ask a better question in a doctor’s office, therapy session, or conversation with someone you love.
And some may make you laugh at a moment when laughing feels mildly inappropriate—but necessary.
That is kind of the point.
Who this space is for.
IVF*THIS is for the person in the middle of treatment who is exhausted from pretending they are “fine.”
It is for the person grieving a failed transfer, miscarriage, or pregnancy loss.
It is for the person considering donor eggs, donor sperm, surrogacy, adoption, or deciding whether enough is enough.
It is for the person trying to imagine a meaningful future that does not look like the one they planned.
It is also for partners, loved ones, and supportive professionals who want to better understand what infertility can actually ask of a person.
You do not have to be in IVF to belong here.
What this space is not.
This is not a place for toxic positivity, empty promises, or “everything happens for a reason” speeches.
It is not medical advice, legal advice, or a substitute for therapy or professional mental-health care. IVF*THIS does not currently provide clinical services.
And it is not a space that treats pregnancy as the only version of a meaningful ending.
This is a place for honesty. For nuance. For asking better questions. For holding grief and hope in the same hand without pretending either one is simple.
Why I keep writing.
Because infertility can make you feel like you are living in a private emergency while the rest of the world keeps moving.
Because some losses do not come with casseroles or condolences.
Because people deserve more than a pamphlet, a protocol, and a vague suggestion to “stay positive.”
And because sometimes the most healing thing is hearing someone else say:
“Yeah. That happened to me too.”
You are not behind.
You are not failing.
You are not the only one trying to make sense of a story that became much bigger than IVF.