22 Rounds of IVF, 4 Miscarriages, and Still Hoping: My Journey Through Infertility and Speaking up for Support

I’ve been through 22 rounds of IVF. Four of those ended in miscarriage. My husband and I still don’t know why, we have what they call unexplained infertility. Every cycle brings a glimmer of hope, only for it to vanish again, leaving me physically and mentally exhausted, heartbroken, and questioning if I’ll we’ll ever be parents.

We remortgaged our house to pay for IVF. The NHS gave us two rounds for free, and the rest we paid for ourselves. Every injection, scan, and procedure has been physically draining, emotionally exhausting, and financially overwhelming. The process can feel like a relentless loop of hope and disappointment over and over again!

Even with my husband by my side, I often feel completely alone. Fertility struggles weigh on you in ways no one can fully understand unless they’ve lived it themselves. Yet there is so little mental health support, and society expects you to “just get on with it,” as if heartbreak and grief are things you have specific timeframes. That expectation in itself is isolating, exhausting, and unfair.

Social events are some of the hardest moments. Baby showers, weddings, even a casual trip to the zoo with my niece where nearly every woman seemed to be pregnant! They’re reminders of what I can’t have yet. I avoid them whenever I can. Mothers complaining about being tired or kids misbehaving? I try to smile, but inside, it feels like salt in an open wound. All I want is to be a mum myself. It makes you feel very alone as you don’t want your friends to stop telling you about their lives – it’s a double edged sword.

People often suggest adoption. I know it’s a wonderful option for some, but I want to experience pregnancy—to feel a baby growing inside me, to carry life of my own. And strangers, asking casually, “Don’t you want children?” They have no idea what we’ve endured. Those questions cut deeper than anyone could imagine.

In recent months, I’ve started opening up about my journey. Some people are embarrassed or unsure how to respond, but most have been amazing – they listen with empathy and offer support. It’s shown me how crucial it is to talk about infertility, to normalise the conversation, and to remind each other that grief, hope, and longing are real and valid.

Fertility struggles are not just physical, they’re emotional, social, and deeply personal. And I’ve learnt that support can take many forms.

I’ve had therapy or counselling on fertility-related mental health which really helped.

We’ve joined support groups and met couples/women who are going through exactly the same as us – you’re not on your own.

I’ve had some good medical support and when I’ve asked about holistic treatments it hasn’t been met with scorn.

We need to understand all the options available. IVF is not the only path, and adoption, surrogacy, or even deciding not to have children are valid choices. Don’t be scared to do your own research on options, but make sure you use reputable sources with real, evidence-based information.

Even after 22 IVF cycles, four miscarriages, and years of uncertainty, I still hold onto hope. I still dream. I still believe. But hope alone isn’t enough. Women like me need care that sees the whole person, that supports the emotional journey as much as the physical one.

And here’s what I want to say to anyone going through this: talk to your friends and family. Tell them how you’re feeling. Let them support you. Ask your healthcare providers for more than just the medical procedures - ask for emotional support, guidance, and options. Speak up, ask questions, and seek information you can trust. You deserve it. Grieving for what we don’t have, and may never have, is natural and necessary. It doesn’t make us weak; it makes us human.

Infertility is isolating, heartbreaking, and exhausting - but it doesn’t have to be endured in silence. By speaking up, sharing, doing research, and asking for the support we need, we can start to change the conversation - and ensure that no woman has to face this journey alone.