“Well, I think it would be a sensible decision to move forward with donor eggs.” That’s what my doctor said. And just like that, the chapter turned. It wasn’t a shock—I’ve seen the writing on the lab reports—but hearing it out loud hit different. It was like someone confirming the thing I’d been trying to both accept and outrun. That no matter how hard I pushed, my body might not be the vessel that gets us there. And here’s the truth: it’s bittersweet.Like … really, truly, bittersweet . 🧬 A Strange Kind of Relief I’m not going to lie—there was a part of me that exhaled.Because donor eggs mean I don’t have to put my body through another round of stim injections, bloating, daily monitoring, financial whiplash, and emotional free-fall. No more “grow, follicles, grow!” pep talks at 2am. That part is… a relief. But right next to that exhale is the hollow.The quiet grief of knowing my child won’t be biologically mine. 💔 The Grief No One Prepares You For It’s not that I’ll love the baby any less—God, no. That kind of love is so much bigger than DNA. But there’s a grief in knowing that I won’t look at them and see me . That my laugh won’t echo in theirs. That my eyes, my curls, my weird toe shape won’t get passed down. And if I’m being brutally honest?Part of me already worries I’ll feel some weird resentment that Adam gets to see his genes continue. He’ll get to say “Oh, that’s my grandma’s chin” and I’ll smile… but quietly ache. 🖼 The Judgment, the Browsing, and the Weirdest Shopping Trip of My Life Scrolling through donor profiles is like Tinder meets Ancestry.com meets existential crisis. I’ve never judged women’s appearances this closely in my life. Eye shape, skin tone, height, hair texture, childhood photos—I was suddenly a picky, judgy, detail-obsessed woman on a mission. Even the ones who “look like me” still don’t feel like me.It ’s like trying to find a ghost version of yourself in someone else’s face. And yet… somewhere between guilt and weird emotional whiplash, there’s also a spark of hope. Because we found one.We were matched through CCRM’s donor database with no red flags. She’s smart, kind-eyed, and someone I could almost see myself knowing. 💸 What It Costs (Besides Money) The financial toll is its own kind of grief.Our retirement savings? Burned up by the fourth egg retrieval.This next step? It’s basically our future on layaway. And even after all that, I still worry it won’t work. That we’ll walk this long, painful road and end up exactly where we started: just us, exhausted and empty-handed. But the only thing harder than trying again… is giving up. 🌱 What I’m Trying to Hold Onto I never imagined this would be my path.I didn’t picture scrolling through donor profiles or making peace with someone else’s chromosomes in my child. But I’m also trying— really trying —to find gratitude in the possibility.To sit in the weird, squishy, complicated middle of grief and hope.To let myself mourn what isn’t… while still making space for what might be. Because maybe this isn’t the story I thought I’d write—But maybe it’s still one worth telling.

A funny but real guide to supporting someone through IVF—what to say, what to skip, and what actually helps Infertility and IVF are exhausting—physically, mentally, and emotionally. If you love someone going through it, you probably want to help… but sometimes the words or actions meant to comfort can land in ways you didn’t intend. That’s why I created this Infertility Etiquette Cheat Sheet —a lighthearted but clear guide to help friends and family show up in a way that feels supportive, not stressful. The tips here are inspired in part by RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association’s Infertility Etiquette Guide (a fantastic resource I recommend reading) and reimagined with the IVF*this humor + honesty. At the end of this post, you can download a free printable version of the cheat sheet to keep or share with the people in your life for IVF Support. 🚫 What Not to Say “You can still be a mother.” / “You can always adopt or foster.” / “You can have my kids!” I might smile or joke back, but inside it stings. It skips over the grief of how I imagined becoming a parent. “Just relax.” / “Try not to stress.” / “Just take a vacation.” If “just” worked, I’d be running my own Brady Bunch by now. Infertility is a medical condition, not a mindset problem. “It’s in God’s hands.” / “God has a plan.” / “If it’s meant to be…” Faith can be deeply comforting, but these phrases can feel dismissive in the middle of treatment heartbreak. “What’s new with you?” / “How’s everything?” / “Still doing the IVF thing?” Harmless on the surface—but can be emotionally loaded if I’m mid-cycle, just got bad news, or am about to start again. ✋ What Not to Do Ask for a play-by-play. This isn’t ESPN. If I want to share cycle updates, I will. Offer medical tips from Dr. Google. I have a medical team for that. Compare me to someone else’s miracle baby story. Every journey is different. Comparisons can make it feel lonelier. 💡 What Helps Offer practical help. Meals, rides to appointments, pet-sitting, or childcare can make a huge difference. Respect privacy. My uterus is not a group project. Ask what’s actually helpful. “Want me to bring wine, a casserole, or a flamethrower?” is always a good starting point. Just listen. Sometimes the best support is sitting with me in my feelings without trying to fix them. Why This Matters Supporting someone through infertility isn’t about saying the perfect thing—it’s about being present, respectful, and aware. This guide makes it easy to understand what helps and what hurts, without adding more emotional weight to an already heavy journey. For more in-depth guidance , I encourage you to read RESOLVE’s Infertility Etiquette guide—it’s a fantastic resource for anyone who wants to show up well for their loved one. Download the Free Printable I know it’s not always easy to remember all of this in the moment, so I turned the Infertility Etiquette Cheat Sheet into a simple one-page printable you can share with your own friends and family. Print it, pin it to the fridge, text it, email it—whatever works to get the point across.

A Personal Look at IVF Facts, Failed Embryos, and What Science Still Hasn’t Figured Out Let’s Start with This: I Had a Perfect Embryo A beautiful, textbook blastocyst with a gold-star grade—the kind clinics get excited about. It looked "beautiful" under a microscope. (Yes, the embryologist actually said it was "beautiful.") And then it failed genetic testing. That embryo—the one we all rooted for—was chromosomally abnormal . Untransferable. Gone before it even had a chance. In that moment, I realized something that still sits with me: for all the progress we’ve made in fertility science, there’s still so much we don’t understand. 💭 Why I Needed This Post Too That realization saved me from spiraling into self-blame. It helped me focus less on what was “wrong” with my body and start remembering that sometimes—even perfect embryos fail. Even doctors don’t know why. And somehow, that helped a little. If science doesn’t fully understand it, then maybe I can stop thinking it’s all on me. Maybe other women will read this and feel a little less alone. A little less broken. Because even as we grieve what didn’t work, there’s comfort in knowing the science is evolving. People are working—right now—to figure this out. New discoveries are being made. Every small breakthrough means we’re one step closer to the answers we deserve. So this post? It’s part validation. Part nerdy cool science stuff. And part whispered reminder that hope still exists. 🧬 IVF Facts: The Early Days The first successful IVF baby, Louise Brown, was born in 1978. Back then: Success rates were around 10% per cycle. Egg retrievals were done laparoscopically—sometimes without anesthesia. No embryo grading, no PGT testing, no freezing. Just Hail Mary hormones and a lot of uncertainty. Before IVF was viable, people tried everything from fallopian tube flushing to “fertility cocktails” containing donor semen. (Yes. Really.) ( Thomas Medical ) 📈 IVF Now: Progress and Precision As of 2024: Over 12 million babies have been born through IVF worldwide (ESHRE, 2023). U.S. success rates average ~40% for women under 35 , and ~20–25% for women 38–40 (CDC ART Report, 2021). We now use embryo grading , frozen transfers , genetic screening (PGT) , and customized hormone protocols . 🤷‍♀️ What We Still Don’t Know Despite advancements, many questions remain: Why a perfect-grade embryo might be genetically abnormal ( FertilityIQ ). Why genetically normal embryos sometimes fail to implant. Why miscarriage happens despite ideal conditions. Why some people need one round and others need five. How to consistently improve egg quality (beyond vague suggestions). So yes, the technology is better. But there’s still a whole lot of mystery, luck, and heartbreak involved. ⚗️ IVF Breakthroughs That Sound Made Up (But Aren’t) AI Embryo Selection Tools Clinics now use machine learning to assess embryos and rank their implantation potential based on division patterns and morphology. ➤ TIME Magazine – “The AI Baby Makers” 3-Parent IVF Using Mitochondrial Transfer Babies have been born with DNA from 2 women and 1 man to prevent mitochondrial disease. ➤ The Guardian, 2025 IVG (In Vitro Gametogenesis) Japanese scientists created mouse eggs from skin cells. If replicated in humans, this could open new doors for fertility and even same-sex genetic parenting. ➤ The New Yorker – “The Future of Fertility” Woman Conceived After 20 Failed Cycles Using AI-Backed Protocols AI analyzed 20 years of failure to help finally match her with the right sperm, embryo, and treatment plan. ➤ Times of India 💬 Final Thoughts This post isn’t here to geek out on science (okay, maybe a little). It’s here to say: if IVF has wrecked you lately, it’s not just you. There’s so much we still don’t know. But that means it’s not your fault. It’s not your body being broken. It’s that we’re still catching up. We’re in the middle of a fertility revolution—and you’re living it. You’re not just a patient. You’re part of the progress. So here’s your reminder: Your grief is real. Your questions are valid. And even when everything feels uncertain, you’re not alone. Science is still learning. And so are we.

Because if you’re gonna jab yourself… might as well do it to the beat. IVF Injection Dance Par-tay If you’ve ever stood in your bathroom, holding a syringe like it’s Excalibur while muttering, “Okay, ovaries, let’s do this,” then you, my friend, are my people. Welcome to IV this — the part therapeutic, part comedy club, part glitter-drenched hormone spiral I built to survive the chaos of IVF. We cry here. We meme here. And today? We dance. 💉 What Is IVF Shot Time? For the uninitiated, “shot time” is that magical moment when you have to mix, prep, and inject your IVF medications. Sometimes, it’s into your belly. Other times, it's into your butt or even your very soul. It’s the nightly stab that keeps the dream alive. But what if we made it ✨fun✨? 🎧 The IVF Injection Playlist You Didn’t Know You Needed I started curating this IVF injection playlist during my stimulation cycle. Let’s be real: stabbing yourself while sad-sobbing in silence just wasn’t cutting it. So, I gave each shot its own theme song. The result? A nightly dance party. In my kitchen. With syringes. Literal butt stuff. Here are some of my favorites that turn “jab time” into a full-on vibe. IVF Injection Playlist Vol. 1 (Stab to the Beat) Upbeat Rap & Hip-Hop “Get Busy” – Sean Paul “Turn Down for What” – DJ Snake & Lil Jon “Lose Control” – Missy Elliott feat. Ciara & Fatman Scoop “Fancy” – Iggy Azalea feat. Charli XCX “Good As Hell” – Lizzo Pop That Makes You Twirl Mid-Stab “Levitating” – Dua Lipa feat. DaBaby “About Damn Time” – Lizzo “Can’t Stop the Feeling” – Justin Timberlake “Shake It Off” – Taylor Swift “Rain On Me” – Lady Gaga & Ariana Grande Pun-Worthy Songs That Slap (Literally) “Bleed It Out” – Linkin Park “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” – Pat Benatar “Another One Bites the Dust” – Queen “Pop Goes the Weasel” – Traditional (yes, really) “The Middle” – Jimmy Eat World "Shots" - LMFAO IVF*this Tip: Let Alexa Be Your Hype Girl One thing that seriously helped my stim routine? Setting up my smart home assistant (Alexa, Google, Siri — whatever floats your syringe case) to make it a whole event. I told Alexa things like: “Set a reminder at 8:30 p.m. that it’s time for belly jabs.” “Set an alarm at 8:30 p.m. to ‘Bleed It Out’ by Linkin Park.” Every night, I’d be dancing around the kitchen with syringes laid out like a fertility charcuterie board. The shot would hit right when the beat dropped. This made my husband giggle and made me feel in control. Honestly? It brought levity to something that felt heavy as hell. Whether it’s Alexa, Google Home, or just your phone’s alarm — give it a try. Finding even a speckle of humor in the dread is medicine, too. It’s Just a Little Thing… But It Helps This playlist isn’t a solution. It’s not going to make IVF suck less. But it might — just maybe — make this one moment suck a little less. Making light of the process is essential. Whether it’s Alexa yelling at you to prepare for butt stuff or dancing to Lizzo while you jab yourself in the belly, these tiny things? They matter. Because in a journey that consumes your control, energy, and joy, this is a reminder that you can still claim some back. A little spark in the dark. A beat you can still dance to. A glitter bomb in the gloom. IV this  isn’t about pretending it’s all okay. It is about finding the one ridiculous thing that makes you laugh while crying. That? That’s powerful as hell. 🗣️ What’s Your Shot Song? Got a jam that slaps while you jab? Tag me on Instagram @ ivf.this.club or drop a comment below with your go-to injection track. I want to build a community playlist — and maybe even a rave-themed shot belt (kidding, but am I?). Find Your IVF Tribe It’s vital to connect with others going through similar experiences. Share your stories, struggles, and triumphs. You are not alone in this journey. Forming bonds with others can provide emotional support and insights that make a difference. Set Up a Support System Consider creating a support system. This could be friends, family, or a community group focusing on IVF. Discuss your feelings, share tips, and celebrate together. Building relationships can be incredibly uplifting during challenging times. Explore Additional Resources Look for additional resources to help you navigate the IVF process. From online forums and local support groups to mental health professionals, a wealth of information is available. Want more playlists, irreverent products, or a reason to smile through the stim fog? Sign up for IV this  emails — because you don’t have to go through this s tstorm alone.

She Would’ve Been One Today: Honoring the Baby I Lost She would’ve been one today. A whole year old. There would’ve been cake. Probably a meltdown over frosting. A ridiculous highchair banner I found on Etsy. Too many photos of her doing absolutely nothing and everything all at once. But instead, there’s just me.And this quiet ache I’ve been carrying all day. No one else remembered this date. Not really. And I don’t blame them—life moves on. But for me, time is split in two: before her , and after I lost her. I want to write something beautiful. Something hopeful. But the truth is—I’m also sitting here with the fresh sting of another failed cycle. Grief stacked on top of grief. It’s hard to find my “why” right now. Hard to find the reason to keep trying. But I still have love. So much love. And I need somewhere to put it. So today, I’m honoring her—the only way I can. And if you’re here, maybe you’re looking for ways to do the same. Below are some gentle ideas to remember your baby, your pregnancy, or your loss—no matter how long ago it was. Your love is still real. And it deserves a place to go. 🌱 Ways to Honor the Baby You Lost 1. Plant something that grows. Let your love bloom. Choose a flower, tree, or tiny plant and make it a living symbol of the life you carried. Ideas: Larkspur  (July birth flower) Baby’s breath  (symbol of innocence) Forget-me-nots A rose bush, lilac, or weeping willow You can make it a tradition—plant something new each year. 2. Create a birthday ritual. You don’t need a party to celebrate their existence.Light a candle. Eat a cupcake. Watch the stars. Visit somewhere that feels peaceful. It’s not about who sees it. It’s about what it means to you. 3. Write them a letter. Grief is full of unspoken things. Put them down. Tell them what you miss. What you imagined. What you still carry.You can keep the letters in a journal, a memory box, or tucked away somewhere private and sacred. 4. Wear something that reminds you of them. Miscarriage jewelry, birthstone necklaces, tattoos, subtle keepsakes—they’re not “just things.” They’re anchors to the love that never left. I got a tattoo: her birth flower and baby’s breath. It's my way of saying she was here.  She mattered. 5. Name them (even silently). You don’t need a certificate or approval. You’re allowed to name your baby.Even if no one else says it, you can. 6. Build a memory space. A shelf, a shadow box, a tiny drawer filled with sonograms or keepsakes. A visual reminder that they existed.  You don’t need a nursery to prove they were loved. 7. Honor them through someone else. Donate in their name. Write a card for another loss mom. Light a candle on a support group page.Tiny ripples of compassion matter. 💔 When You’ve Lost Your “Why” Today, I feel lost. Not in the dramatic, cinematic way—but in the quiet, exhausted way that sneaks up on you after trying so hard for so long. I don’t know what’s next.I don’t know if I’ll keep trying.I don’t know how many more “almosts” my heart can hold. But I do  know this: She changed me.And even if the world forgets this date, I won’t.Even if my arms are empty, my heart is not. So today, I say: Ha ppy almost-birthday, my girl.You didn’t stay long, but you stay with me.You were mine. You are mine. Always. And to anyone reading this who’s grieving a baby of their own—you’re not alone.Your love didn’t end with the loss.It ’s still here. Still sacred.And still worthy of being seen.

Opening a store for the most resilient, bloated, emotionally exhausted humans on Earth. So… I did a thing. I officially launched the IVF*this merch store —and not to be dramatic, but I might cry (and not just because of the progesterone). If you're going through IVF or supporting someone who is, you know there’s no such thing as just  an egg retrieval, a transfer, or a shot. This journey is physically brutal, emotionally exhausting, and deeply isolating. And yet, there’s almost nothing  out there that speaks our language. No one hands you an ivf gift, such as a mug that says, “Stick, baby, stick.” Or a card that reads, “I gave your uterus a call and told her to stop acting like a lil' b*tch.” So I made them. Because we deserve better. Why I Created IVF*this IVF warriors are some of the most resilient people alive. We inject hope into our bodies daily—literally. We show up to appointments half-dressed and fully bloated. We survive two-week waits, blood draws, heartbreak, and hormone swings that would break lesser mortals. This store was built to recognize that resilience. Not with generic fertility platitudes—but with bold, funny, empowering, and sometimes wildly inappropriate designs that speak the truth out loud. Because IVF support  shouldn't look like pastel butterflies. It should look like a uterus in beast mode. What You’ll Find in the Shop (IVF Gifts & Merch) IVF greeting cards  that say what Hallmark won’t Fertility warrior t-shirts  for transfer day, retrieval, or general hormonal chaos Funny IVF mugs  (yes, there’s one that says "IVF'D" with a middle finger) Retrieval and transfer kits  coming soon! Emotional support items  designed for people who are so over  hearing "just relax" This isn’t just IVF merch. This is infertility awareness gear  that gives your uterus (and your feelings) a voice. ivf*this merch! Because IVF Belongs in the Conversation Infertility still lives in the shadows. People don’t talk about the ugly parts, the weird parts, the straight-up traumatic parts. But we do. Right here. Loudly and with really good fonts. Whether you’re navigating fertility treatments, supporting a loved one, or just love good reproductive rage humor—welcome to the IVF*this family. You’re not alone, and you’re definitely not invisible. 🛒 Ready to shop? Click here to browse the IVF*this store. New products drop weekly, because apparently I don’t know how to emotionally rest.

Spoiler-ish heads up: There’s a scene at the end of Scrambled that I’m going to talk about in detail. If you haven’t watched the movie yet and want to go in fresh, maybe bookmark this and come back. But if you’ve already seen it — or if you’re someone who finds comfort in knowing the emotional payoff is worth it — keep reading. You’re in for something beautiful. When a Movie Gets Too Real (and Also, Thank God It Does) I wasn’t expecting much from Scrambled. It showed up in my recommendations right after I found out that none of our embryos were viable. Two were chromosomally abnormal. One was inconclusive. Translation: it didn’t work. Again. I was in that headspace where your body feels like static and your brain can’t complete a sentence, and the only thing I could do was sit and scroll. I pressed play. And that’s when this film — with its slightly awkward humor and belly-shot bruises — completely cracked me open in the best way. That Baby Shower Scene? Too Real. There’s this moment in the film where the main character, Nellie, walks into a baby shower, and someone asks her, “What’s new with you?” And the camera zooms in like it’s her moment to shine. Cue the emotional existential crisis! God. That question. “What’s new with you?” It’s always asked at the worst times. Family gatherings. Showers. Holidays. Group texts. And if you’re going through IVF — or trying to figure out if your body can even keep up — it hits like a slap. But the film gets it. It doesn’t brush past it. It shows the weight of that question in all its uncomfortable glory — and somehow still makes you laugh through the cringe. That’s the magic of Scrambled: it lets you feel seen and lets you breathe. check out this clip from the baby shower scene → The Scene That Shattered Me (in the Best Way) But it was the ending that really gutted me. In a gentle, soul-reset kind of way. Nellie writes a letter to the eggs she’s frozen. She talks to them — with honesty and tenderness. She tells them they were the most intentional thing she’s ever done. She doesn’t know what their future is, but she honors them anyway. And then she closes the letter with: “Love, Mom.” I lost it. Because for the first time, I realized something I’d never actually said out loud to myself: I already am a mother. Even without a living child. Even without a positive test right now. Even in the grief, the ambiguity, the loss — I’ve been a mother all along. To the embryos I prayed over. To the baby I miscarried. To the cycles I gave my body to. To the dreams I carried in my gut, even when I was too scared to say them out loud. Redefining Motherhood When the World Only Sees Outcomes IVF has a way of narrowing your vision. It makes you fixate on numbers: follicles, embryos, hCG, days past transfer. It pulls your identity into what’s not happening yet — and robs you of recognizing what already is. Motherhood isn’t just live birth. It’s devotion. It’s sacrifice. It’s choosing hope when logic says not to. Watching Scrambled reminded me that I’ve already shown up for something sacred. I’ve already mothered in ways that no one may ever see — but that doesn’t make it less real. Why This Movie Was the Shift I Didn’t Know I Needed I’ve read articles. I’ve joined forums. I’ve heard the affirmations. But it was this story, told simply and imperfectly, that hit me straight in the chest. It didn’t try to tie everything up in a bow. It didn’t preach. It just… reflected something real. And in doing so, gave me permission to rewrite how I see myself. Not just as “someone trying to become a mom.” But as someone who already is one. Where to Watch Scrambled: You can stream Scrambled on: Amazon Prime Hulu Your Turn: Has a Movie Ever Cracked You Open? Has a show, movie, song, or random TikTok ever hit you so hard it made something click in your soul? Tell me about it in the comments. Seriously. Let’s build a little collection of sacred media moments for IVF warriors. You never know who might need the exact same shift.

For IVF Medication, Mood Meds, and the “Did I Take That Already?” Spiral Let’s be real: IVF already feels like juggling flaming syringes while blindfolded. Add in your daily thyroid meds, antidepressants, prenatals, a sprinkle of anti-nausea here, some progesterone in places we won’t name there—and it’s a lot. You don’t need to be playing medication Tetris every day when it comes to IVF medication. Enter: smart pill dispensers.  Little boxes of sanity in a hormone-fueled storm. Top Pick: Hero Smart Pill Dispenser Best For:  IVF warriors with strict dosing schedules + multiple daily meds. Holds up to 10 different medications Automatically dispenses  the right pills at the right time Syncs with a simple app for alerts, refills, and tracking Reminds you like a helpful robot nurse (minus judgment) Cost:  $44.99/month + $99.99 startup HSA/FSA Eligible Why We Love It: If your schedule has pills morning, noon, night, and somewhere in between—and you’re over  worrying if you doubled your Zoloft—this thing will literally sort it out for you. No sorting trays, no med math, just peace of mind. Hero Smart Pill Dispenser Budget-Friendly Favorite: LiveFine Bluetooth Pill Dispenser Best For:  People who want structured reminders but don’t need full automation. 28 slots with rotating tray  that moves to the correct dose Set up to 9 alarms a day App syncs via Bluetooth for easy scheduling Lockable lid to avoid accidental double-dosing Cost:  ~$90 one-time Purchase LiveFineProduct.com  or Amazon No monthly fee Why We Love It: It doesn’t sort your pills for you, but it will  keep your IVF cycle and other meds organized without breaking the bank. Great if you’re cool refilling weekly and need strong, customizable alerts. LiveFine Bluetooth Pill Dispenser Travel-Friendly Minimalist: EziMedPil Smart Pill Organizer Best For:  IVF on the go or anyone who needs reminders more than a robot arm. App-controlled alerts for each time slot Simple visual and sound cues Lightweight, compact, great for throwing in a weekender bag Does not dispense , just stores and reminds Cost:  ~$60 on Amazon You still need to know which pill is which—but it’ll nudge you when it’s time Why We Love It: If you’re traveling for IVF ( hello, out-of-state clinic folks), this is a fantastic option to keep everything on track without lugging a full-size dispenser through TSA. EziMedPil Smart Pill Organizer Product Best For Dispensing Reminders Cost Hero IVF + daily meds, precision dosing ✅ Full auto ✅ App-based $44.99/mo + $99 setup LiveFine IVF + some structure, weekly refill OK 🔁 Rotating tray ✅ Bluetooth app ~$90 one-time EziMedPil Travel, reminders-only ❌ None ✅ App alerts ~$60 one-time Final Thoughts Let’s face it: IVF doesn’t come with a personal assistant. (Although we definitely deserve one.) These smart dispensers can remove some chaos , prevent missed doses , and help you focus on what matters—like not screaming into the void every time your alarm goes off. Seriously. Let a machine keep track so you can focus on surviving  the IVF sh*tstorm.

Somewhere between injections, appointments, and heartbreak, I started speaking to myself like I was the enemy. I didn’t even realize how cruel I had been — until I sat down to write this. After multiple failed IVF cycle, I hit a wall. Not the kind you cry through and bounce back from the next day. The kind that makes you question your body, your choices, your worth. The kind that shatters something deep inside and dares you to find the pieces. So this post is for me. But maybe it’s for you, too — if you’ve ever blamed yourself for things beyond your control, or felt like your body betrayed you. Dear Me, Mm k… we need to talk. I’ve said some pretty harsh shit to you — and more often, I stayed quiet when you desperately needed to hear something kind. So let me say it now: I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I’ve talked to you. For the names I’ve called you. For avoiding your reflection in the mirror, and picking it apart when I finally did look. For tying your worth to what your body could or couldn’t do. For whispering that you were broken, defective, not enough… until you started believing it. I’m sorry I made you feel like a failure. Because you’re not. You’ve endured heartbreak layered upon heartbreak — and still, you’ve shown up. You walked into that clinic again. You held hope again. You endured injections, blood draws, surgeries, and devastating silence. You’ve carried life. You’ve carried loss. You’ve carried you through all of it. You’ve never stopped trying. I know how easy it is to spiral into shame. I know that voice that plays in your head — the one that didn’t start with IVF. The one that’s been with you since way before this journey. The one that tells you you’re not lovable unless you’re producing, performing, perfect. But here’s the truth: That voice isn’t yours. It was trained into you. And I’ve watched you work so damn hard to rewrite it — even when the pen kept shaking in your hand. I forgive you for the nights you didn’t want to keep going. For the mornings you isolated because “How are you?” felt like an interrogation. For the way you survived — even if it wasn’t always pretty. I forgive you for not being okay. And I’m so proud of you. You’ve felt life inside of you. You’ve nurtured dreams that didn’t get the chance to stay. You opened your heart anyway. You still do. Now, I offer you something you’ve struggled to offer yourself: Grace. This journey has been brutal and breathtaking all at once. You are not just what you’ve lost. You are everything you’ve survived. You are healing. You are still here. And that, my love, is worth celebrating. Love, Me P.S. I f*cking love you, bitch. Mental Health Benefits If you’ve ever spoken to yourself like an enemy, I hope you’ll pause today and offer yourself something softer. Even if it feels awkward or unnatural at first. Start by saying to yourself “I’m sorry.” Start with “I forgive you.” Start with “I’m proud of you.”Infertility and mental health are linked, and this exercise was instrumental in helping me recognize that connection. And if you’re brave enough… write your own letter. You don’t have to show anyone. But you deserve to hear something kind — especially from yourself. I created a handy "Apology Letter to Self" template available for download if you need a starting point! Writing it down and then reading it aloud proved to be a powerful and therapeutic experience for me, offering a touch of healing. I hope it can do the same for you.

Diving back into the world of IVF for round two feels like a familiar rollercoaster—this time, with a side of acupuncture needles and a sprinkle of optimism. As I step into this part of my journey, it's clear that the road to creating life is as unpredictable as a game of Bingo, but instead of numbers, we're dabbling in eggs and embryos. This chapter in my fertility saga introduces acupuncture, a needle-based adventure, into my routine. It's a prickly path I never imagined trekking, yet here I am, turning into a human pincushion, all in the name of optimizing egg quality. Think of it as a spa day, but instead of leaving with a glowing face, I’m aiming for glowing ovaries. Nutrition has also taken center stage in my quest for peak fertility. I'm now dining like a fertility goddess, indulging in a smorgasbord of antioxidant-rich foods and fertility-boosting nutrients. My plate looks like a rainbow, bursting with colors and the promise of better egg quality. It's like my diet got a fairy tale makeover, and I'm just waiting for the magic to happen... But lets be honest, my love for all things sugar has not been neglected. I am just slightly more aware of how much I am consuming. But, as with any good story, there are challenges to face. My recent lab adventures revealed a plot twist—a slight hiccup in egg production. It seems my biological clock isn't just ticking; it's banging a drum, adding a sense of urgency to this already exhilarating journey. Adding another layer of complexity, my partner, my rock through this process, has been knighted as the king of night shifts, leaving me to brave the injection battlefield solo. Armed with syringes and a newfound courage, I'm ready to face this challenge head-on. It's a daunting task, but I'm channeling my inner warrior. Despite the rollercoaster of emotions and the hurdles along the way, my spirit remains unbroken. With each challenge comes growth, and with each step forward, I inch closer to my dream. So, as I embark on round two, I'm holding my head high, armed with needles, supplements, and a diet fit for fertility royalty. Here's to the journey ahead—filled with hope, healing, and a little humor to keep things interesting. Because when it comes to IVF, a good laugh might just be the best medicine. Round two, let's do this—with a smile and an open heart.

In the journey of life, there are moments that define us, moments that break us, and moments that compel us to find beauty in the midst of profound sorrow. Today, I want to share with you a deeply personal piece of my heart, a story of love, loss, and the indelible mark of a little soul who, though never cradled in my arms, will forever be cradled in my heart. On July 6th, a date that was etched in my heart with both anticipation and joy, I was due to welcome my baby girl into this world. The universe, however, had a different plan, and I found myself navigating the heart-wrenching path of miscarriage. The pain of losing a child is a unique sorrow, a journey that many of us walk in silent grief, our dreams and hopes unfulfilled. In the search for healing and a way to keep my daughter's memory alive, I turned to a form of expression that has always spoken to me in times of joy and sorrow alike: art. Art, in its many forms, has the power to heal, to memorialize, and to carry forward the essence of what we hold dear. For me, this took the shape of a tattoo, a permanent tribute to the baby girl who changed my life in the brief time she was with me. I chose her birth flower, the Larkspur, symbolizing love and positivity, intertwined with sprigs of Baby's Breath, representing purity and innocence. This tattoo, delicately placed where I can see and touch it, serves as a constant reminder of her. It's a way for me to keep her close, to honor her existence, and to acknowledge the impact she has had on my life. This tattoo is not just ink on skin. It's a story. A story of love, loss, and the unbreakable bond between a mother and her child. It's a testament to the fact that though she may not be present in my arms, she is forever etched in my soul, guiding me with her unseen presence. To anyone who has walked this path, who has felt the sting of such a loss, I extend my heart to you. I invite you to share your stories, your tributes, and your ways of remembering. Whether through art, words, or silent reflection, let's create a space where our angels are remembered, where our grief can be shared, and our healing journey embraced. In sharing this, I hope to not only honor my daughter but to connect with others who understand this unique pain. Let's support each other, share our stories of love and loss, and find comfort in the knowledge that we are not alone. Your stories, your tributes, your reflections are welcome here. Let's continue this conversation, sharing our experiences and healing together. #IVF #invitro #fertility #miscarriage #memorial #pregnancy