A heads up… Talking about infertility and pregnancy loss is really emotional. I share a lot of my personal story here, and while there are no graphic descriptions, it can still be painful to read. If you’re going through this journey, please take care of yourself. If that means taking a break from reading or bookmarking this for later, that’s totally okay.

 

Deciding to grow your family is a delightful, surreal experience. But if it’s interrupted by infertility, miscarriage, or loss, the joy quickly turns to anger, resentment, and devastation.

 

I know because I’ve been there.

 

Barren seems like a harsh word, but to be honest, it described the realness of my pain. The first time I was able to access my doctor’s online portal I saw infertile among my list of medical problems.

 

My world shattered. I felt blindsided and broken. I asked myself over and over, “Am I really incapable of doing something my body was born to do?” Ashamed, I kept my infertility a secret. I didn’t want anyone to know how broken and struggling I was.

 

And I struggled.

 

I struggled with the emotions of my nightmare-ish situation.

I struggled with deep hopelessness.

I struggled with loneliness.

I struggled with shame.

I struggled with feeling like a burden to others.

I struggled with the business-as-usual way the world just carried on around me.

I struggled with the training and experience I had as a licensed psychologist that nevertheless left me totally unprepared to deal with this issue in my own life.

 

Then, in December 2015, I got pregnant for the first time. It wasn’t planned, but it was joyous. 

And I started doing everything right. 

I ate healthier.

Slept better.

Took prenatal vitamins.

Went to doctor’s appointments.

Started planning names and nursery themes.

Researched forums and advice columns.

Journaled to my baby daily.

I connected with them and told them how grateful I was.

I felt a new sense of purpose.

 

Then the worst happened.

 

A few weeks later, I started to spot. I tried to cling to the hope and love I had for this baby, but it wasn’t enough. My prayers weren’t enough. My friends’ words of encouragement weren’t enough.

 

The life growing inside me stopped. And so did time.

 

I felt crushed.

Angry.

Hardened.

Bitter.

Unworthy.

 

My fertility journey was draining. I took injections, suppositories, and countless oral medications. I did all the scans and tests. I heard, “Everything looks normal,” too many times.

 

And then I lost another baby.

 

Since then, I’ve had my rainbow baby. I’ve been able to experience that joy and engage in the long process of healing from my losses. As I’ve looked back, I’ve realized several myths I fell victim to in my own experiences of infertility, miscarriage, and loss.

 

Maybe you’ve been dealing with these myths, too. 

The 7 Myths of Infertility, Miscarriage, and Loss

Please understand the purpose of this post isn’t to offer tips on how to get pregnant or increase your fertility. Instead, it’s to encourage you to be a better friend to yourself as you take this journey—and offer some tools to help you do so. 

Riding this roller coaster can be painful. It can cause you to lose friends and family… and to lose yourself a bit, too. My hope is you can find comfort in these words and know someone else out there is with you and for you.

Myth #1 You did something wrong.

During my second pregnancy, someone told me to “take it easy this time.” This suggested I didn’t do things right the first time, and that I was to blame for the loss of my first child.

 

Instead of telling this person to take a hike or mind their own business, I turned inward. I judged myself and questioned every action and decision I made. I regretted the 6-mile run I did days before my miscarriage. I criticized myself for everything.

 

But it wasn’t my fault. And it’s not yours, either. Pregnancy loss happens more often than we talk about, most often due to chromosomal abnormalities. So remind yourself you’re doing the best you can. Then remind yourself again.  

Myth #2 You shouldn’t be envious of other pregnant people.

During my second pregnancy and loss, several of my friends were pregnant. I had to go through that experience with them. I watched them all rejoice and gush over their pregnancies and subsequent children. I watched them complain about all the unpleasant symptoms that I would have given anything to experience. I sucked it up and put on a brave face for every gender reveal party and baby shower.

 

But I regret my grin-and-bear-it attitude.

 

Anger and envy are natural, especially when it comes to something as life-changing as having a baby. We need to honor this part of our experience and set appropriate expectations for ourselves. 

If a party is too hard to attend, politely decline the invite. If someone’s oversharing is too hard to hear, tell them. If you need to talk about your experience, do it unapologetically.

 

Do what you need to get through this journey. Someone’s pregnancy isn’t more important than your loss. Make yourself a priority. 

Myth #3 Your healthcare providers are empathy experts.

I expected my medical team to have empathy for my situation. I was wrong.

During my first pregnancy loss, a nurse told me I must have experienced a “dud” and continued to make ill-timed and insensitive comparisons between my baby and chickens on a farm. During my second pregnancy loss, the ultrasound technician ignored my crying and was dismissive, cold, and detached.

 

For a time, I just put up with it. But over time, I found my voice. And I hope you will, too. Advocate for yourself. Give your providers feedback, even when it's uncomfortable.  

Also, consider bringing a support person to your appointments. And if you anticipate your doctor’s visit will be tough, plan your day accordingly. Take a half-day at work. Schedule a favorite self-care activity. Or simply rest. You don’t have to power through. 

Myth #4 You’re broken or dysfunctional.

We’re made to reproduce, right? It takes so much practice to get out of this line of thinking. If we’re not successful at what we should be able to do, we feel broken, shameful, and angry.

 

But at the end of the day, your value as a human being doesn’t lie with your ability to have a baby.

 

To combat feelings of brokenness or dysfunction, try self-affirmations. Remind yourself daily of all your unique, positive qualities outside of your fertility. While it may not take the pain away, it will remind you you’re still a person deserving of love and compassion—regardless of how this journey looks for you.

Myth #5 You just have to deal with peoples’ insensitivity.

Something about grief and loss makes people say the dumbest stuff:  

You’re young; you still have time.

You shouldn’t have told anyone you were pregnant.

It’ll happen when it’s supposed to.

It was so early, it wasn’t even really a baby.

At least you know you can get pregnant.

There must have been something wrong with the baby. This is actually a good thing!

Everything happens for a reason.

 

Sure, people mean well, but those comments hurt. And it’s okay for you to say so. If you’re thinking, “But that might hurt their feelings,” please hear this: You’re not responsible for other people’s feelings or comfortability. Creating boundaries for yourself isn’t disrespectful or rude. It’s necessary to protect yourself. 

If someone’s making you uncomfortable, angry, or upset, you have the right to say something. If you feel up to it, you can even ask for what you need: “Please just listen. You don’t need to say anything.”

And if people disrespect your boundaries after you’ve clearly stated them, you can walk away or even remove that person from your life. You’re worth it! 

Myth #6 If you would’ve prayed more, this wouldn’t have happened.

Please hear this: The frequency of your prayer or the devoutness of your faith didn’t cause your infertility or pregnancy loss.

I struggled to reconcile my relationship with God and my infertility. I walked around my house daily in prayer. I read from prayer books and the Bible. I spoke to God daily. And I still experienced pregnancy loss. During my second miscarriage, I screamed at God asking why this was happening to me. In the midst of my deepest pain I asked, “Where have you been? How could a loving God allow this?”

 

If you’re a religious or spiritual person, it’s normal and understandable for your faith to be shaken during this time. Remembering that your faith is a constant in your life, and that it’s not based on your circumstances, can help you remain grounded and focused on something that gives your life meaning and purpose. 

Myth #7 You should just keep trying, no matter what.

Infertility and pregnancy loss can make us lose ourselves. We’re often transformed by the process, and not in a good way. It takes a toll on our minds, bodies, and spirits.

Fertility can feel like a long, painful chapter in your life, but it doesn’t have to be your whole story. In fact, there’s no shame in pausing—or stopping—the journey.

If you want to go on month in and month out, that’s okay. If you want to take a break for a while, that’s okay. If you want to avoid treatments or stop them completely, that’s okay.

 

Nobody decides what’s best for you but you.

You’re not alone.

Pregnancy loss and infertility affects more of us than we know. We don’t talk about it, but we should. Sharing your journey and the many other myths you may have encountered along the way can have a healing impact for you and others. So when you’re ready, talk about it. You deserve that.