Still Confessing Co.

I love to plan things. 

I mean, it’s literally what I do for work. My full-time job is to plan events and social media posts. I use my organizational skills in just about every aspect of my life – from marketing to planning what’s for dinner, and keeping track of appointments. My entire life is built on schedules, logistics, and “making things happen.” Which is why it’s a bit ironic that I, a lover of control and the queen of fixing things, am navigating an infertility journey. 

For the first time in my life, I am faced with the harsh reality that I cannot always project-manage my way to a result. My top strengths usually lead to success. But this time, no amount of planning or tracking can override the truth. I really don’t have any control over this one.

THE SECRET FOUNDATION

When you are ready to build a family with someone, you think it’s going to be so easy. I mean, the talks we got from our parents as teens make it seem like getting pregnant is a guarantee. But that’s just not true. 

My husband and I were excited to start our family. While we were in that “if it happens, cool” phase first, within about 6 months of getting married, we were actively trying to have a baby. About 10 months after that, the excitement of “we’re trying” had turned into “there is a problem.” That was really when our infertility journey began.

THE DIAGNOSIS

I won’t go into the details of the lab work, ultrasounds, long drives, and the number of appointments that were endured over the next several months. The point is that after months of testing, we were given the diagnosis of unexplained infertility. Everything looks great, and they just don’t know why it hasn’t worked yet. Which, in theory, might sound better than an alternative diagnosis. It just means nothing is wrong, but, for some reason, it hasn’t happened.

But for someone like me, who sets a goal, makes a plan, and then executes it, I almost wanted something to be wrong. I’d rather have a concrete answer: if I can fix it, then it’ll all work out. This is neither my first nor will it be the last challenge I’ve faced in my life. But it is the first one where I couldn’t figure out a solution or a way to fix it on my own. I don’t know what to fix.

As any of the 1 in 6 can tell you, often, one of the hardest parts of this process isn’t even what you’d expect. It’s about maintaining the image that everything is okay. Things like having to go to work after another negative pregnancy test, like you weren’t just crying in a bathroom. When you are experiencing difficulty conceiving and then going through the diagnostic process, it often feels like you’re carrying a crumbling foundation. One that nobody else can see while still trying to maintain a normal life outside of it – work, home, friends, etc. But I don’t think we should have to carry that alone. 

THE IDENTITY SHIFT: THE MIDDLE

The part that I don’t think enough people talk about when going through their infertility journey is the identity shift. If you’ve ever had an acquaintance who’s gone through it, you might think it’s just disappointing pregnancy tests. But what you might not know is how hard it is to feel like yourself when your body isn’t doing what you expected. It’s difficult to feel like an “Architect” or a “Hostess” when your own body isn’t cooperating with the event timeline you prepared. Instead, you feel like your entire ‘role’ or identity is just “a woman trying to get pregnant.”

What’s so easy for others is like a full-time job for you. From tracking your temperature and cycle daily to taking ovulation tests. Driving to and from appointments where you’re poked and prodded to the point you feel like a science project more than a woman. Obsessing over every food you eat, exercise you do, and supplement you take. And it still isn’t enough. You spend your days stressing about the cost of treatments and appointments. Meanwhile, your nights are spent wondering why something that’s supposed to be natural, you have to work so hard for. 

THE PLANNER’S PARADOX

If you’re like me, asking for help is not something you’re very good at or enjoy. So, being in a situation where you need help is not only uncomfortable, but it also feels like a personal attack on your identity. I’m not saying I’ve never asked for and had help in my life, because that’s simply not true. However, I’ve spent my life being a planner and a fixer. I never imagined that the one thing I’ve wanted since I was a child – to be a mother – I wouldn’t be able to do on my own (well, plus my husband). I didn’t think I would need so much help to achieve something that sounds so simple. It goes against everything you’ve thought and experienced, and that’s not a shift you can get through overnight. 

Between all that, plus the societal message that “hard work = results,” this then changes with your relationship with your body. You think, “I’m giving you what you need, why won’t you give me what I want?” You think that you’re doing everything “right,” so why aren’t you seeing results? The body that’s carried you through your life now feels like your enemy. It’s easy to feel like, if you can just make your body ‘better,’ it’ll stop betraying you. Unfortunately, that’s not how it works.

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