You Won’t Feel Broken Forever: A Truth I Had to Learn the Hard Way

There was a time — and honestly, many times — during my fertility journey and transition into a childless not by choice life, when I truly believed I was broken. And not just physically. I mean broken to my core. Emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Shattered by hope, disappointment, grief, and the relentless pressure I put on myself to become a mother.

I carried the weight of it all — every negative test, every miscarriage, every failed cycle — like it was my fault. Like I had let everyone down. Especially my husband. Even though he never once made me feel that way.

I remember the day we got the news about my low ovarian reserve like it was yesterday. I was devastated. On the drive home from that first fertility clinic appointment, tears poured down my face. And that’s when my husband looked at me and said words I will never forget:

“Babe, if it’s just you and me in this life, I’m okay with that. We will be okay.”

Of course, that made me love him even more — and yes, it made me want to have his babies even more. But that kind of unconditional support helped me plant the tiniest seed of self-compassion — one that would take years to grow.

He always reminded me: “This is a we thing, not a you thing.”

And while I could hear him, believe him even, a part of me still quietly sobbed in the shower or behind closed doors — feeling like my body had betrayed us. Feeling like I had failed.

Healing Isn’t Linear — And It Is Possible!

If you're there now — in the thick of it, feeling hopeless and shattered — please hear this from someone who has been exactly where you are:

You won’t feel broken forever.

I know how hard that is to believe right now. I didn't believe it either. I couldn’t see a version of myself that wasn’t consumed by grief or defined by what my life was missing.

And slowly — and I mean slowly — things shifted.

It didn’t happen with a dramatic turning point. There was no grand realization or "aha" moment. In fact, I didn’t even notice it at first. But over time, I began to realize I wasn’t crying as often. I wasn’t avoiding conversations or social events the way I used to. I could finally hear a pregnancy announcement and not completely unravel.

The triggers were still there, but they weren’t running the show anymore.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like me again — maybe a new version of me, but me nonetheless. Someone grounded. Someone resilient. Someone not broken.

How I Got There (And How You Can Too)

This kind of healing doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a roller coaster, filled with highs and lows, setbacks and small victories. But here’s what helped me come out on the other side:

Radical self-compassion — letting myself feel what I needed to feel without shame.

Telling the truth — even when it hurt, even when I wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

Allowing joy — in new forms, like glamping weekends, spontaneous adventures, and quiet mornings with my fur babies.

Finding support — from people who got it and never asked me to “just stay positive.”

The Most Powerful Shift? Telling My Story

When I began opening up about what I had gone through, something powerful happened:

I realized I wasn’t alone. And neither are you.

The more I spoke from my heart, the more other women reached out to say, “Me too.”

It helped me own my story instead of hiding from it. It helped me turn pain into purpose. And it helped me trust in my journey — even if it didn’t look the way I imagined it would.

If You're in the Thick of It…

Know this: your feelings are valid. Your heartbreak is real. But your story isn’t over.

There’s still beauty ahead. There’s still joy to be found. And there is absolutely a future where you no longer feel broken — even if it looks different than you once hoped.

Trust yourself. Give yourself grace. And let people walk alongside you.

You won’t feel broken forever. And when that shift happens — even if it’s quiet and gradual — it will feel like reclaiming a part of yourself you thought was lost.