(Personal Story)
Over the years I’ve realised that IVF doesn’t just happen to your body, it happens to your identity, your relationships, and your sense of time. After many rounds of IVF over the past decade, I can say this with full honesty: this journey is about far more than test results. It’s about rebuilding yourself again and again, often quietly, while the world carries on around you.
This post is for anyone who’s somewhere in the middle of that journey, maybe wondering how much more you can take. I’ve been there too. And while every person’s IVF story is different, I hope some of what I’ve learned helps you feel less alone in yours.
Why Multiple IVF Cycles Impact More Than Just Your Body
In the early days of IVF, I felt quite excited. Hopeful. I hadn’t really heard much about failed cycles at that point. I thought IVF would be the answer to my prayers. I whole heartedly believed it would work. It had to work!
Looking back, I wish I’d known how much more complex the process can be. One of my biggest regrets is not having the conversation earlier about what I wanted my family to look like long-term. I always dreamed of having three children. But the way IVF treatment is often structured, there’s an emphasis on getting pregnant now, especially after dealing with infertility diagnosis. The format for “getting you pregnant as quickly as possible’ may not entirely support your vision of having a family (should that include more than one child). It also may not be the best strategy for your finances (if you are self-paying) or support your ability to give the cycle/s your best shot by being prepared. I didn’t know then how important it would be to plan for more embryos early on, especially in my 30s.
I’ve had both success and distress along my IVF treatment journey. I’ll be forever grateful for my son; I honestly think he’s a miracle! Trying for a sibling has been even harder, I can’t even find a word to describe it. Challenging, devastating, exhausting. Sometimes the success gives you a false sense of security. You think ‘It worked! It’ll work again’ but that’s not always the case.
As the cycles add up, so does the heartbreak. I found myself frustrated by failed cycles where there were no ‘good eggs’ or embryos created, nothing at all to work with. Instead, just a hole in my bank balance. I’ve experienced a miscarriage that shattered me along with many failed transfers I was sure “would stick.”
Even through all of that I still carry hope, but being honest I have to say, it’s no longer an innocent/blindly optimistic hope. It’s layered with fear, preparation for disappointment, and the mental gymnastics of getting back up after each blow.
Where Hope Lives Between Each Round
The Strange Comfort of Starting Again (Even When You’re Tired)
After each failed cycle, there’s this strange moment where you find yourself planning again. Not necessarily because you’re ready, but because you don’t know what else to do. Sometimes I’d go on autopilot: rebook appointments, start supplements, meds, carry on.
But the decision to continue is never simple. With every round, the stakes feel higher, and the energy feels lower.
Protecting Hope Without Becoming Numb
Hope becomes something you have to guard carefully. Not too much, not too little. Just enough to keep going. Not so much that you fall apart when the call comes with bad news, not so little that you give up.
I’ve had moments where I genuinely believed I couldn’t do it again. But even then, a part of me kept dreaming. Of a different future. Of a life I could still build, even if it looked different to what I had originally planned.
What Grief Looks Like After IVF Fails
It’s Not Just Sadness, It’s Mourning Possibilities
After one cycle, we transferred two “healthy” embryos. I was sure at least one would stick. But the test came back negative. I sobbed for hours. I felt completely defeated like my body had completely failed me. Surely it wasn’t the embryo’s, so it must have been me. Right?
There’s a unique kind of grief that comes with IVF. It includes accepting that sometimes your questions are left unanswered. It’s not just losing what was, it’s mourning what could have been. All the imagined birthdays, the sibling/s that never were, the “maybe baby” that felt so real.
Grieving in Silence While the World Keeps Moving
Most people never see that part. They don’t hear you cry at 2am. They don’t see the emptiness of another unused nursery Pinterest board. They don’t understand why you need time before you can reply to a “just checking in” message.
Often, I didn’t even tell anyone. Not because I didn’t want support but because I didn’t have the words. Grief can be quiet like that.
Losing Pieces of Yourself: The Silent Identity Crisis of Repeated IVF
I found that IVF changed me. It changed a lot of things, my career path, my social life, and the way I thought about almost everything. I stepped away from the job I’d trained for because my mental health was suffering. I spent years saving just to save for treatment. There was no money for extras certainly not for holidays or treats. Everything became about the next cycle.
I lost the carefree version of me and replaced her with someone who was always anxious. Always overthinking. Always adjusting life around the “maybes”: maybe I’ll be pregnant soon, maybe I’ll need childcare, maybe I shouldn’t commit to that event. That uncertainty became the lens I viewed life through, and it wore me down.
The Social Shifts: Who You Were vs Who You Become
My disposable income changed, so I stopped going out much. I skipped plans with friends. I didn’t always feel like I could explain why. Over time, I became almost fertility-obsessed. Every decision centred around IVF, from what I ate to what job roles I would or wouldn’t do. It was exhausting.
The worst part? I think I still knew I was smart, capable, and resilient. But I didn’t feel it anymore. I questioned myself daily. That loss of self-confidence can creep in slowly, and it’s hard to claw your way back.
How I Found Small Anchors of Identity Through the Chaos
Travelling, Walking, and Reconnecting with Friends
In 2023, I made a decision that changed everything: I decided to enjoy life again. Sounds simple but it wasn’t an easy decision. I felt like I was cheating on my journey. Not giving it ‘everything’ as I had done for the previous 9 years. I didn’t know how to balance my fertility journey with regular life. I started travelling again. For ages I felt it was a luxury I couldn’t afford and didn’t deserve. To be fair, it was tight. But I needed to feel something beyond the four walls of clinics, waiting rooms and mundane fertility diet.
Travel helped me reconnect with the world and with myself. I don’t really know what it is but being abroad just reminds me there’s so much more to experience. So did spending time with friends again. Opening up to a few trusted people, even when it felt vulnerable, made a huge difference. IVF is isolating enough. You don’t need to do it completely alone.
Walking also became part of my healing. After my third cycle, the hormones had messed with my weight, my energy, my motivation. I felt heavy in every sense. But gentle movement just getting outside, and walking gave me a sense of control again. It’s been one of the most consistent ways I care for my mind and body.
Coping Tools That Made a Real Difference (And Some That Didn’t)
Therapy, Journaling, and Boundaries That Saved My Sanity
I leaned into self-therapy, especially after the miscarriage. I didn’t feel ready to talk explain my journey to someone new, but I knew how to process my thoughts and reframe the negatives ones, so I got to work. Journaling helped too, sometimes just a few words to get the thoughts out of my head. Writing was a way to clear emotional space when things felt too much.
But the biggest shift came when I stopped rushing from one cycle to the next. I gave myself time to heal in between. To rest. To ask myself, “Do I actually want to do this right now?” That space has saved me more than once.
Well-Meaning Advice I Had to Tune Out
“Just relax.”
“Have you tried acupuncture?”
“Try not to think about it, that’s when it works naturally.”
“You can always adopt.”
“If it’s meant to be it will happen.”
Most people mean well. Often they are the ones closest to you but not all advice is helpful. I learned to tune it out. Not because I didn’t appreciate the concern, but because I needed to protect my mental space. You’re allowed to do that, too.
What I Would Say to Anyone going through multiple cycles
You Are Not Broken!
You are going through something really challenging and extremely hard. None of it is your fault and sometimes, sadly, there’s a lot of trial and error in this process. You are not weak for needing a break. You are not selfish for wanting more. You are not broken for struggling.
IVF doesn’t define you. It might feel like it does, but it doesn’t, you will find yourself again. Even if that’s after it’s consumed years of your life. You are still worthy. Still whole. Still powerful in ways you might not even realise.
It’s Okay to Stop and It’s Okay to Keep Going
Whether you try again or decide to pause, both are valid. You don’t owe anyone a timeline. You are allowed to change your mind, change your plan, change direction. This is your life. Your decision. Even your doctors should be understanding and respectful of your needs and decisions.
Redefining Success: Healing On My Own Terms
I still hope for a bigger family. That part hasn’t changed. But I’m finding out that there are more ways to feel fulfilled. I’m learning to live for me again, to find joy, softness, and purpose outside of this fight.
Living With Open Ends and Finding Peace Anyway
Not everything will be neatly resolved. There may be open ends, unanswered questions, frozen embryos, “maybe” plans and shifting dreams. But there can still be peace. There can still be life.
You Are Still You, Even Through All This
This journey might have reshaped you. But it hasn’t erased you. You are still here. Still worthy of joy. Still deserving of rest.
Whether you’re preparing for another round, grieving another loss, or figuring out what’s for you next I get it. And I hope this space reminds you that you’re not alone.
Written for you by Jade, Founder of IVF SelfCare
If this resonated, I’d love to hear from you. You can comment below, email me at hello@ivfselfcare.com or connect on Instagram @ivf.selfcare.