Letters to a woman who seemingly looks like she has it all – Part 1
Dear Strong Woman,
I see you. The one who everyone assumes is handling everything perfectly because you’ve always been the one who could manage it all. The one who gets those knowing looks that say “if anyone can get through this, it’s you.” The one who built a life you’re proud of, yet now finds herself watching from the side as friends move into a world you desperately want to enter.
You’ve worked hard. You’ve achieved things. You’ve always been the one others turn to for strength. Yet now, for the first time, you’re facing something that doesn’t respond to your usual strategies…your fertility journey.
When I work with women like you, I often hear the same phrase:
“Everyone thinks I’m handling this well, but it’s exhausting keeping the mask on”
The weight you carry
When did you last give yourself permission to truly pause and consider what you’re going through? Not the quick mental checklist of appointments and medications, but the deeper weight. The mental load you carry from month to month as the gap widens between you and those building families.
Month after month, you navigate the hope and disappointment. You smile at pregnancy announcements while your heart shatters. You calculate due dates in your head. You dodge questions about when you’ll have children. You research clinics and track cycles and manage medications, all while maintaining your professional commitments and relationships.
It’s exhausting. And it’s a lot more than what most people realise you’re carrying.
The roadblocks in your mind
Despite this weight, something stops you from reaching out for support. Let me guess what those thoughts might sound like:
“I should be able to cope with this.”
“Therapy is another expense when I’m already spending so much on treatment.”
“Talking about it won’t actually change anything – I’ll still need to do IVF.”
These thoughts feel so real, don’t they? They feel like facts. But they’re not. They’re the voice of a culture that taught you to be self sufficient above all else.
The myths we tell ourselves about counselling
Maybe you’re also carrying some assumptions about what fertility counselling looks like. Perhaps you imagine someone sitting across from you, head tilted sympathetically, asking “and how did that make you feel?” every five minutes. The thought of this gives me the ick too.
Or worse, another well-meaning person who doesn’t truly understand offering the same tired platitudes about silver linings and everything happening for a reason.
You pride yourself on being the person who handles things. You don’t want sympathy. You want support from someone who actually gets it.
I understand this completely, because I’ve been exactly where you are.
Where these thoughts come from
These barriers didn’t appear overnight. They were built over years of being praised for your strength. “I don’t know how you do it,” can become a badge of honour. You have prided yourself as being someone who does not make a fuss and gets on with things.
Maybe you tried sharing your struggles before, only to be met with comments that stung more than helped. So you learned to keep things inside. The shame about your body’s perceived failure feels too vulnerable to examine closely. It’s easier to stay busy, to fill every empty moment so you don’t have to think too deeply about what this journey is costing you emotionally.
The “Shopping Bag” metaphor
You know when you unload your boot after the weekly shop and try to carry all the bags in one go? (please don’t tell me I’m the only one who does this!) You load yourself up, determined to do it efficiently, and by the time you reach the kitchen, your hands have terrible marks where the handles have been digging in. You didn’t even notice the pain because you were so focused on getting everything inside as quickly as possible.
This is what you’re doing emotionally. You’re carrying it all, determined to manage efficiently, not even noticing how much it’s weighing on you until someone points out the marks it’s leaving.
Why professional support matters
Fertility counselling isn’t about someone feeling sorry for you. It’s about unpacking all those heavy bags with someone who not only understands the weight but has the professional skills to help you make sense of the conflicting feelings inside. Someone who understands the hope alongside the fear you’ll never become a mum, the uncertainty, the anger, the jealousy, the shame about your body.
It’s about having someone validate that this is genuinely a lot to carry. Someone who won’t add to your burden with insensitive comments or unrealistic positivity, but who can hold space for the full complexity of what you’re experiencing.
You are not broken
I want to be clear about something; you are not broken. The fact that you need support during one of life’s most challenging experiences doesn’t diminish your strength or capability. It shows wisdom.
We live in a culture that rewards us for not making a fuss, for getting on with things quietly. But some experiences are too significant to navigate alone, and fertility struggles are absolutely one of them.
An invitation
Counselling isn’t about weakness. Counselling is about choosing not to struggle alone. It’s about giving yourself permission to set those heavy bags down for a moment and examine what you’re actually carrying.
If you’re ready to explore what support might look like, I’m here. Not to offer you false hope or empty platitudes, but to walk alongside you with genuine understanding and professional expertise.
This is the first in a series of letters I’ll be writing to you; the woman who appears to have everything together but is quietly fighting one of the hardest battles of her life. In the coming weeks, we’ll explore the isolation that comes with infertility, the flood of emotions, the grief that nobody talks about, and the ways you can start to reclaim some sense of control in a situation that feels so completely beyond your influence.
For now, know that you don’t have to carry this alone.