On my bedside table, there’s a photo of my husband and I from the day we got married. He’s spinning me around on the dance floor, my arms are wrapped around his neck, both of us are smiling and giddy with excitement.

There is so much love in that moment.

So much to look forward to.

But so many things I didn’t see coming.

Fast forward a couple of years and we’re sitting together in the billing area of our IVF clinic. My face is covered in tears while my husband is trying to pay the final bill from our unsuccessful IVF cycle which resulted in zero embryos. I have no idea how I got here. I was 35, I’d always been healthy, I’d never had any inkling that starting a family would be difficult.

But that’s infertility for you. For so many of us, it sneaks up when you least expect it. I went from someone who was excited to try for a baby, to learning terms I never knew existed – “diminished ovarian reserve,” “low AMH,” “partially blocked fallopian tubes.” And these were only the start.

The five years that followed were, without a doubt, the hardest of my life. Struggling with fertility takes a toll on your marriage, your mental health, your bank account, your relationships, and your identity. Endless medical appointments, scans and surgeries mean your body is no longer your own. It affects every little area of your life – from planning career steps, trips away, and all future plans.

Despite the fact it’s now reported to be 1 in 6 couples that struggle with fertility, it’s still largely something we choose not to talk about. So I speak about it as much as I can.

Here are 5 things I wish I’d been told about this journey before I stumbled upon it:

YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY WON’T GET IT…AND THAT’S OK

Even as awareness grows around infertility, it’s incredibly difficult to speak to someone about your experience unless they’ve been through it themselves. The intricate details about treatment options, the rollercoaster of emotions and the endless acronyms (that we get so used to) make it hard to discuss with someone who hasn’t been there.

Like many women who have struggled to conceive, I was constantly met with comments like “you can always try again next month” or “IVF could be an option” or (my favourite) “everything happens for a reason.” Often, your family and friends just won’t get it.

But that’s ok. Because there’s an amazing community out there waiting to support you if you need it. Women from all over the world who are sharing their stories, remembering each other’s transfer dates, and sending love when you need. You only need to jump onto your favourite social media platform to find them.

IT TAKES OVER YOUR ENTIRE LIFE

When I look back now at my life during those years of trying to conceive, I am overwhelmed with memories of all the things I had to fit in each day. Cycle tracking, doctor’s appointments, scans, blood tests, acupuncture, preparing perfect home-cooked meals…the list goes on.

On top of this, the mental load of infertility is HUGE…”what appointments do I have this week? Am I going to ovulate this month? Do I need to attend that person’s baby shower? Will my friend be offended if I cancel dinner? How can I get to work on time if the clinic is running late? Can I commit to a group holiday in 6 months? Are these symptoms early pregnancy or PMS? Is it too early to test…?”

It’s common to feel engulfed by your journey. But try to keep some moments for yourself, too. Find things that you love doing and don’t forget about them. For me, that was my yoga practice. It provided me with space to breathe, space to connect with my body and allow some calm into my life.

Going through it when you already have a child doesn’t make it any easier

In fact, it makes it worse. Because you now know how incredible it is to have a child and the only thing you want more than this is to complete your family. The crushing guilt you feel for wanting more when you already have a beautiful little person in your life is unbearable. It hurts that you’re spending so much of your time & energy worrying about giving them a sibling.

I used to sit in the fertility clinic and watch women who had come in with a small toddler, thinking “WHY would you go through all this again? You already have a child, what are you DOING?” But it’s not that simple.

Your doctor is only one part of the solution

In a lot of cases, infertility is a medical condition which requires medical attention to resolve. Doctors are incredibly important, and their expertise is crucial. But they are trained to do their job. And their job description does not include therapist, nutritionist, counsellor, mental health worker or support person.

Creating a support network of people around you is so important. For some, this might mean finding a functional nutritionist or naturopath who will look more closely into lab results for you. For others, working with a fertility coach or therapist may provide the emotional support you need. For me, the moment I found a fertility yoga teacher was a turning point. It was the final piece to my puzzle.

It can lead you to a better life…truly.

This is the last thing that somebody struggling with infertility wants to hear. It’s so common to want answers when you’re in this position, to get stuck on the why and why me and this is so unfair. I see a lot of women start to ask themselves “is this the universe’s way of saying I’m not meant to be a parent?”

I promise you it’s not. But what I do believe is that our fertility struggles can be a ticket to a better life. Being able to navigate the devastation and grief of this journey can give you the keys to a life 1,000 times better than you ever imagined. It’s not the universe saying this isn’t meant for you. It’s saying you’ll have so much more once you get through it.

Would I have such a close connection with my children without my fertility challenges? Maybe.

Would I have the same deep, unshakeable bond with my husband? I doubt it.

Would I have the life and business I have now, teaching Fertility Yoga and supporting women all around the world on their path to motherhood…something that I’m endlessly passionate about and hope to do for the rest of my life? Definitely not.

I am truly grateful for what my experience forced me to learn.