There was a time when I truly believed I was the problem or rather, that my body was failing me. When my husband and I were trying to conceive and it took longer than I thought it should, something inside me slowly started to break. It happened quietly, so quietly that no one noticed I was slipping into a dark hole. On the outside, I was doing all the “right things.” I was showing up, e3nsurong that my body is healthy, being hopeful, being strong. On the inside, I was blaming myself. Every month that passed without a pregnancy felt like a personal failure. I never said it out loud, but my thoughts were cruel: my body is letting him down; I am the reason this isn’t happening. I stopped trusting my own womb, my own body. I began to see myself as incomplete, defective even though no one had ever told me I was. I started looking at myself through a negative lens, and it changed how I felt about who I was. It took a toll on my mental health and going to therapy was the order of the day.
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There were moments dark, lonely moments when my thoughts went to places, I never imagined they would. I remember thinking, maybe he deserves someone else… Maybe he needs a second wife who can give him children. That thought hurt me more than the waiting itself. Not because I wanted it, but because it revealed how deeply I had internalised the blame. I had reduced myself to one function: bearing children. And when my body didn’t perform on my timeline, I began to question my worth as a wife. This is the kind of pain many women don’t speak about enough the kind that thrives in silence, the kind that slowly erodes your confidence while you smile in public and carry on as if everything is fine.
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I was ready to fix myself alone. I was prepared to take all the medicine, all the supplements, all the treatments. I was ready to carry the burden quietly, because that’s what women are taught to do. Then my gynaecologist said something that stopped me in my tracks. He said, “Your partner also needs to be here. He needs to be part of this process. We need to test his sperm.” For me, it was a sigh of relief. I was happy and glad that it came from another man to him, the mountain was shared... In the process, I was also stunned. It genuinely had not occurred to me that he also needed to be part of the process in the same way I was.
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That one sentence changed how I saw everything. For the first time, someone in authority acknowledged what no one had said before: this was not just about me. My doctor explained that fertility is not carried in the womb alone, that sperm quality matters deeply, and that even young men even healthy-looking men can have issues that affect conception. He insisted on testing him. He insisted on him being actively involved in this delicate process, and he even prescribed supplements for him. Suddenly, the shame I had been drowning in had somewhere to go. It wasn’t mine to carry alone anymore. It was halved. It was shared.
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I didn’t feel vindicated. I felt relieved. Relieved that my body wasn’t being singled out. Relieved that I wasn’t the sole problem to be solved. Relieved that fertility was finally being treated as what it truly is a partnership. For the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to breathe.
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This journey taught me how quickly women turn inward and punish themselves. We blame our wombs, we blame our hormones, we blame our bodies and in doing so, we shrink ourselves. But fertility is not a measure of our worth as women, and difficulty conceiving is not proof that you are “less than.” Men matter in this journey. Their bodies matter. Their health matters not as an afterthought, but as an equal part of the process.
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If you are reading this and carrying thoughts you are too ashamed to say out loud, I want you to know this: you are not weak for having them, you are not wrong for feeling what you feel, and you are not broken. You do not need to offer yourself up as the sacrifice. You do not need to imagine replacements for yourself. You do not need to disappear to make room for someone else’s expectations. You deserve care. You deserve answers. You deserve partnership. You are enough.
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This is what I know now: fertility is not a woman’s burden to bear in silence. It is shared. It is complex. It is human. And no woman should ever feel she has to erase herself to make motherhood possible. From one woman to another you are enough, even in the waiting. 🌱
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