16/01/2025
In the spring of 2020 I submitted my PhD Thesis on Infertility and mental health after 4 years of researching experiences of women going through the process of diagnosis, prognosis and treatments.
As I went through the process of reviewing existing literature, reading emotional narratives and interviewing women, it put me in quite a dark place. Infertility feels like a strong term till you are sitting across from someone and truly listening to first hand experience, and then it really hits you. It is beyond medicine. It affects every aspect of someone's life and self.
While it kickstarted a fire to do work that supported women going through fertility related trauma, I had to put in place a lot of self care and boundaries to detach myself from my research while always knowing at the back of my mind that it could be me someday.
2.5 years after my PhD, in 2022, my husband and I found ourselves going through pregnancy loss and in 2024, I found myself in the chain of fertility diagnosis, now looking at prognosis after my surgery last week. Over the last few years I've had people ask me how it feels to be on the "other side of the table".
It is an emotional rollercoaster of wanting answers. The part of me that submitted this thesis in 2020 knows that we aren't alone in this and that there are supportive communities for us. Knowing the science has been very helpful. I understand a lot more of the conversations and am comfortable speaking about it (hence this post!). We're focusing on our emotional health as a priority and questioning anything that comes across as "should do". Holding space and being particular about the bubble of support we build around us has been a saving grace. In short, is it easier? No. Are we better equipped? Yes.
What happens next? No idea! For now, rest, recovery, and enjoying the life we have. The plan for 2025 is to give more time towards things we love, gardening, travel, hobbies and step away from the hamster wheel of what next. 🥰
