The Exhale and the Spark: Finding Excitement in the Decision Phase

Hey there Friend!

Have you been living in the unknown?

It’s that in-between place, the emotional limbo that settles in after a setback or during a long period of uncertainty. It's a heavy, quiet time filled with the exhausting work of processing, grieving, and weighing options until they all blur together into a single, overwhelming question mark. In the space, the world can feel muted, your future indistinct, your energy stagnant. It’s the waiting room of the heart, and it can feel like you might be stuck there forever.

And then, one day, it happens.

Maybe it's in a quiet conversation with your partner that stretches late into the night. Maybe it's during a long walk alone, with nothing but the rhythm of your own footsteps for company. Maybe it's a slow dawning that has been building for weeks. A decision is made. A path is chosen. It could be the decision to try another cycle with a new protocol, to take a restorative six-month break, to begin the adoption process, to pursue donor conception, or to embrace a beautiful, child-free life.

The specific decision is less important than the profound shift that happens in that moment. It's as if a window has been thrown open in a stuffy room. You take your first full, deep, intentional breath in what feels like ages—a true exhale. The pain begins to recede, and you feel a flicker of something you haven't felt for a long, long time: a spark.

That, my friend, is the profound and often surprising excitement of the decision phase.

From Powerless to Powerful: Reclaiming Your Story

For so much of the fertility journey, you are a passive recipient. You wait for test results that dictate your mood for the day. You wait for phone calls from the clinic that hold your future in their hands. You wait for your body to respond to medications and protocols. It can leave you feeling powerless, like a passenger on a rollercoaster you can't steer and can't get off of.

The moment you make a conscious, intentional decision, everything changes. You climb out of the passenger seat and into the driver's seat. You take the pen back into your own hand. You are no longer just reacting to circumstances that are happening to you; you are actively authoring the next chapter of your life. This reclamation of agency is exhilarating. It’s a powerful, full-body reminder that this is your life, and your story to write.

A New Kind of Hope

The hope you feel during a treatment cycle can be a fragile, anxious, nail-biting thing. It’s a hope that is often tethered to an outcome you cannot control—a beta number, a scan, a single phone call. It can feel like holding a butterfly in a jar, beautiful but terrifyingly delicate.

The hope that comes with a decision is different. It’s sturdier. It’s a hope that is grounded not in chance, but in your own courage, resilience, and choice. It’s the hope that comes from having a direction, a plan, a "North Star" to guide you through the wilderness. This hope feels more solid, more sustainable. It isn’t about hoping for something to happen; it’s the hope in yourself and your ability to move forward. It can reignite your spirit in a way you thought wasn't possible.

The Hum of Forward Motion

Notice how your energy changes once a decision is made. The mental fog starts to lift. The endless, looping questions in your mind quiet down. Suddenly, you have something new and productive to focus on.

Your Google searches might change from "why did my cycle fail?" to "what are the best books on adoption?" or "best restorative vacation spots." Your conversations might shift from rehashing the pain of the past to dreaming about the possibilities of the future.

This is the beautiful, humming energy of forward motion. Whether you're researching agencies, learning about a new protocol, scheduling that first therapy session, or planning that well-deserved trip, you have a purpose again. Your world, which may have felt so small and stuck in that waiting room, begins to expand with new landscapes to explore.

Let's be honest, this excitement might be tinged with the ghosts of what came before. It might be a cautious joy, a hope held with a history. And that’s perfectly okay. This isn't about erasing the past or forgetting the scars. It's about refusing to let the past have the final say on your future.

Friend, if you are in this moment—the moment of the exhale and the spark—lean into it. Savor it. Let the excitement fill you up. You have walked through the deep valley of the unknown to get here. You have earned this beautiful, hopeful, new beginning.