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You don’t have a bump. You don’t have a baby. But you carry the weight of motherhood in your heart every single day.
You are the woman in between. Not in the early, hopeful stages of trying. Not in the celebration posts of newborn joy. Just here. Still in it. Still hoping. Still healing.
The Invisible Grief
Maybe you’ve done the tests. Faced the losses. The surgeries. The hormone crashes. The waiting rooms. The soul-numbing, “we’re still not sure why” conversations.
And now? You’re not sure where you fit.
You scroll through pregnancy announcements and feel like you should be happy. You are—kind of. But also gutted. Broken inside. Because each one reminds you of what your body hasn’t done. Yet. Maybe ever.
This in-between space is exhausting.
You Deserve to Be Seen
You are not forgotten. Your grief is real. Your strength is not measured by how quietly you endure this.
We need to start talking more about this space:
The woman doing another round of IVF who no longer shares it.
The woman considering stopping altogether.
The woman too tired to explain why she can’t come to a baby shower.
The woman going through loss(es) while watching everyone else move forward.
The woman suffering silently, hoping for good news as the months, years, pass her by.
You exist. And your experience matters.
How to Keep Going
Check in with yourself daily.
Ask: What do I truly need today? Space to feel? A walk in nature? A moment of stillness? Give yourself permission to receive it—without guilt.
Reconnect with your body and womb.
Try womb meditations, breathwork, or intuitive journalling. Speak to your body like a trusted friend. Write a love letter to it. Let it speak back. Even if it speaks in silence at first, keep listening. Your body is not your enemy—connection takes time.
Bring in self-love and compassion.
Practices like Ho’oponopono or self-love meditations can help. Be gentle with yourself. You deserve to feel safe in your own heart.
Rediscover joy.
Your life might feel on pause, but you are still allowed to live—something I regretted not doing for four years. Think of what lights you up. Find a hobby or return to one. Pamper yourself. Book the facial. Take the trip. Let yourself feel good.
Remember who you are outside of this conception journey.
Change your internal narrative.
Watch your language. Are you saying, “I failed” or “It’ll never happen”? Your words shape your world. Begin shifting:
From “my body is broken” to “my body is communicating.”
From “I should be further along” to “I’m exactly where I need to be, for now.”
Reframe your journey.
Just because your vision hasn’t come to life yet, or not in the way you imagined, doesn’t mean it’s over. Your path is still unfolding. Allow space for positive possibilities. Reading stories of women who conceived after similar struggles can offer hope.
Practise gratitude—not as toxic positivity, but as grounding.
Gratitude anchors you in the present. It says: “Even here, in the ache, I can find light.” It’s not about bypassing pain, but remembering your capacity for joy, even now.
Protect your space and your spirit.
Set boundaries. Unfollow accounts that make you feel less than. Say no to conversations or invitations that hurt. You are allowed to protect your energy. You are allowed to matter.
Create a mantra for the journey.
Let it be a daily reminder that anchors you in trust. Choose something like:
“I trust my journey and am open to becoming a mum in perfect timing.”
“I am worthy of motherhood.”
Do the deeper work.
If possible, seek support. Therapy, EFT, hypnosis, inner child work—gentle tools can help process grief, fear, and hidden pain.
Reconnect with your partner.
Plan a date night, a weekend away, or even a quiet evening with no fertility talk. Just be together. Remember who you were before this journey began.
This season does not define your worth. You are worthy of love, of care, of living—now. Not later. Not when.
Even in the waiting, even in the wondering, you are becoming.
And that deserves to be honoured.
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