Good Intentions, Bad Timing

Infertility comes in a lot of flavors. None of them are good.

Some of us are grieving loss, or repeated loss. Some are navigating multiple rounds of IVF, some successful, some devastating. Some of us, like me, have never even seen a positive pregnancy test. Some people have been on this journey for six months. Others for ten years.

Different paths, same exhaustion.

One thing we all have in common is the steady stream of well meaning reassurances from people who genuinely want to help, but do not realize that some of these comments hurt more than you would ever expect.

The pain does not come from nowhere. It comes from anger. From depression. From anxiety. From the emotional and physical weight infertility puts on your body. Infertility is the elephant in the room that keeps sucking all the air out. Some days we drag ourselves out of bed just to get through the day.

There is so much happening behind the scenes that most people never see. And it is from this place that these seemingly supportive comments land.

“Just relax.”

Do I look stressed, Jill?

We have all heard this one. It is the go-to response. In 2025, one out of six couples struggles with infertility. So statistically, when someone tells you they are trying and it is not working, they very well might be that one out of six.

Yes, stress can take a toll on the body. We are painfully aware of that. But the irony is that trying to get pregnant is the very thing that forces us to keep going. We pull ourselves out of bed. We make ourselves eat. We do not get to just be depressed or exhausted. We have to nourish our bodies. We have to show up to work because the medical bills do not pause for grief.

And yes, we are stressed. Can you blame us?

But a deep breath and a hot bath are not going to get us pregnant.

“Have you tried…”

Supplements? Better sleep? Changing your diet? Mucinex?

Yes. Yes we have.

“You’re young, you have time.”

This one sounds comforting, but it dismisses reality. Youth does not protect everyone from infertility. Some women conceive naturally in their forties. Some women in their twenties never will.

Shrugging off someone’s struggle because of their age sounds a lot like, You do not even know struggle yet. Come back when you are older.

If I had taken my time, I likely would not have had the chance to grow my family at all.

“You’ll get pregnant.”

Will I?

Many of us reach the end of this journey without a baby. That is a very real outcome. At what point would you stop? How many tens of thousands of dollars of debt would you take on with nothing to show for it?

We do not all get pregnant.

“Have you thought about adoption?”

Say it with me. Adoption is not a cure for infertility.

Adoption is a beautiful thing for the people who want to adopt. But no child should ever be a plan B. Some people will reach the end of infertility and decide adoption becomes their new plan A. Some people will not.

You would not put oranges in an apple pie because you could not find apples.

Aside from the desire for biological children, adoption itself is a separate journey. It is not easy. It is not cheap. It can take years, no matter where the child is coming from. And when a child does arrive, there are emotional adjustments for everyone involved.

Adoption is not a consolation prize. It is its own path.

“Enjoy your life now before you have kids.”

Thank you, John.

I have enjoyed my life. And I am ready for a little something to come and mess it all up now.

If you know someone dealing with infertility, please understand this. We know these phrases come from a good place. You want to support us. You just do not know how.

And how could you, if you have never lived it?

When you are in the thick of infertility, it consumes you. You read every Reddit thread. Watch every YouTube video. Listen to every podcast. You become maddeningly obsessive trying to fix something that cannot simply be fixed.

We are not well.

Here are things you can say that actually help:

“I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

“I don’t understand what it’s like, but I can imagine how hard it must be.”

“You’re so strong for continuing.”

“I’m praying for you, and I really hope you get your chance to be a mother or father.”

That is it.

We do not need toxic positivity. Opening up and talking about this is hard. If someone close to you is opening up, it's a sign that this has been going on for a while now.

When we open up, we are not asking for solutions. We just want to be seen. We want to be heard.

One line plays in my head over and over again:

If I had listened to advice from people who had never been through this, I would never have had the chance to grow my family.