There are certain conversations women have in whispers. Infertility is one of them.
We talk openly about buying homes, earning degrees, getting promotions, and starting businesses. But when it comes to struggling to get pregnant, experiencing miscarriage, or navigating infertility, many of us suddenly become quiet. I know I did.
Recently, I met a woman while I was sitting in my doctor’s office getting bloodwork. I was very pregnant at the time, so naturally we started talking about babies. She asked what I was having, we laughed for a while, and eventually I asked if she had children.
She smiled politely and said no. Then I asked a question I’m usually careful not to ask. “Do you want children?”
She quietly replied, “I can’t have kids.”
We quickly changed the conversation and started talking about something else. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face. It wasn’t sadness. It was embarrassment. And I recognized it immediately because, years earlier, I had worn that same look.
My Fertility Journey Was Filled With Shame I Couldn’t Explain
For years, I avoided saying the word fertility out loud. If I was looking for a product or asking someone for advice, I’d talk about heavy periods. Fibroids. Hormones. Anything except the real reason I was asking.
I didn’t want people to know I was struggling to carry a pregnancy because, somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that infertility was something to hide.
Looking back now, I finally understand that I wasn’t protecting my privacy. I was protecting my shame.
No One Made Me Feel Ashamed—Except Me
One of the biggest realizations I had came when I looked back on my first miscarriage. The people around me were compassionate. My family supported me. Friends reminded me that miscarriage happens more often than we realize and encouraged me not to lose hope. No one blamed me. The shame wasn’t coming from them. It was coming from me.
Then, after my third miscarriage, someone asked a question that stayed with me for years.
“Did you ever get checked for why you can’t carry a baby?”
Maybe they didn’t mean any harm. Maybe they simply chose the wrong words. But what I heard was…
“Something is wrong with you.”
That sentence planted itself deep inside me.
I Thought I Could Control Everything
For a long time, I believed my shame came from infertility itself. It didn’t. It came from losing control.
I had spent most of my life accomplishing the goals I set for myself. I earned multiple master’s degrees, built businesses, bought and sold homes, and even produced a feature film. (Yes…that was my shameless plug for Smoke. 😂)
When I wanted something badly enough, I usually found a way to make it happen. Fertility was different. No amount of planning, researching, or determination could guarantee the outcome I wanted. For the first time in my life, effort wasn’t enough.
The Unexpected Lesson My Mother Taught Me
Oddly enough, I didn’t fully understand this until after my mother’s passing. Losing her forced me to accept something I had spent years resisting. Some things simply aren’t ours to control. I couldn’t change the outcome.
But I could choose how I loved her, honored her memory, and laid her to rest somewhere I could visit regularly because I knew there was a good chance no one would visit her grave back in Boston.
That experience taught me something I desperately needed to learn. Acceptance isn’t giving up. Acceptance is recognizing the difference between what you can change and what you can’t. That lesson changed my fertility journey.
If You’re Carrying Fertility Shame, Read This
If you’ve ever felt embarrassed because of infertility, miscarriage, IVF, fibroids, PCOS, endometriosis, or pregnancy loss… I want to ask you the same question I eventually had to ask myself.
Where did that shame come from?
Was it something someone said? Was it comparing yourself to everyone else? Or was it the frustration of trying to control something that simply couldn’t be controlled?
Healing didn’t begin for me when I got all the answers. It began when I stopped blaming myself for questions that didn’t have easy answers.
Final Thoughts
Your body is not a measure of your worth. Your ability to carry a pregnancy does not determine your value. And your journey doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s to be meaningful.
If today you’re carrying shame for something outside of your control, I hope you’ll consider putting it down.
Make a plan. Adjust the plan when life changes. Give yourself grace along the way. No one said you had to marry the plan. Just don’t carry the plan with shame.
This article reflects my personal experience and is intended for educational and inspirational purposes. Every fertility journey is unique. If you’re experiencing infertility or pregnancy loss, please speak with a qualified healthcare professional for individualized care and support.
Until next time, take care of yourself the way you take care of everyone else.
It’s Yoni Mack. 💛