Growing My Family Blog - You're Not Alone

  Hey there, Friend. It happens without warning, doesn't it? You’re walking through a store in early November, minding your own business, and there it is: the first display of twinkling lights and shiny ornaments. For a split second, a wave of nostalgia might wash over you, a memory of a simpler time. But then, just as quickly, a different feeling settles in your stomach—a quiet dread, a heavy sigh. It’s the feeling that a season of joy for everyone else is about to be a season of survival for you. If you feel like you’re on the outside of the holiday cheer looking in, we want you to hear this loud and clear: You are not broken. Your feelings are a completely normal response to navigating a painful, personal journey during a very public, family-focused time of year. Here at GrowingMyFamily, we understand that feeling of bracing for impact as the holidays approach. It’s an emotional armor you didn’t ask to wear, but you put it on to protect yourself from painful questions, pregnancy...

  Let’s talk about the weight of history. On this family-building journey, our past experiences can feel like heavy baggage we carry everywhere. The failed cycles, the negative tests, the losses, the disappointments—they all leave their mark. And sometimes, that mark feels like a permanent stain, a prophecy of what’s to come. We start to see our past results not as isolated events, but as destiny. "I had a failed transfer last time, so this one will fail too." "My AMH levels were low, so I’ll never get enough eggs." "I’m too old for this to work." "My body just isn’t meant for this." This is where the narrative can become dangerous. This is where the data points from your past start to dictate your future. And this is where we need to introduce a powerful, liberating truth that can change everything: The past is data, not destiny. In our GrowingMyFamily community, we see this truth play out every single day. We see women who have been told it...

Let’s talk about a specific kind of courage. It’s not the loud, roaring, storm-the-castle kind that you see in movies. It’s a quieter, more tender, and infinitely more resilient kind of bravery. It’s the courage it takes to stand in the rubble of a past disappointment, take a deep breath, and decide to build again. It’s the courage to hope again after a heartbreak. It’s the quiet, vulnerable decision to open your heart, just a little, to the possibility that this time could be different. I’m talking about the feeling of a new cycle. Whether it’s Day 1 of a natural cycle after a month of loss, the day you call your clinic to start a new round of IVF, or the day you get the green light to begin a transfer cycle with your surrogate, there is a unique and palpable energy to it. It’s a quiet turning of a page in a book that has been filled with some very difficult chapters. It’s a subtle but powerful shift from the grief of the past to the cautious, fragile hope for the future. This hope is...

Let’s talk about one of the hardest moments on the family-building journey. It’s a moment that feels both deafeningly loud and terrifyingly silent. It’s the phone call you never want to get. The email you dread opening. The quiet, devastating words from a doctor, spoken with clinical sympathy that can’t possibly touch the depth of your pain. "I’m so sorry, but the cycle was not successful." In that moment, the world can feel like it stops, like the floor has dropped out from under you. The hope you so carefully, so bravely, allowed yourself to feel shatters into a million pieces. The future you had started to imagine—the nursery, the first holidays, the sound of a heartbeat—dissolves into thin air. And in the quiet, aching space that follows, it is so easy for a sense of failure to rush in and consume everything. It’s not just the failure of a medical procedure. It’s a deep, personal feeling of failure that can permeate every corner of your life, and most dangerously, the sac...

Hey there, Loving Family Member, If you’re reading this, it’s likely because your family has been blessed, or is about to be blessed, with a precious child who has joined your lives through the beautiful path of adoption. Your heart is full, you’re excited to welcome this little one (or to continue loving them as they grow!), and you want to be the most supportive grandparent, aunt, uncle, cousin, or cherished family friend you can possibly be. That desire to love well is a wonderful and essential starting point. Navigating how to best support an adopted child and their parents might feel a little new, perhaps even a bit different from other family experiences. You might wonder about the "right" things to say or do. But please know, the most important ingredients are already in your heart: love, acceptance, and a willingness to understand and honor their unique story. Here at GrowingMyFamily, we believe that an informed, loving extended family is an incredible gift to any chi...

Let’s talk about a dynamic that can quietly, insidiously creep into a partnership when you’re navigating the long, hard road of family-building. It’s a subtle shift that happens when the stress, grief, and frustration reach a boiling point. It’s a poison that can seep into the cracks of your relationship, often without you even realizing it’s happening. Without even meaning to, we can start to see our partner not as our teammate, but as the source of our pain. Maybe it sounds like this: A tense, silent car ride home after another doctor's appointment with disappointing news. The unspoken accusation hangs heavy in the air: "Is it your body? Is it my body? Whose 'fault' is this?" A sharp, angry fight about money, where "the cost of treatment" becomes "the money you wanted to spend on that last cycle." One partner wanting to talk about the journey constantly, needing to process every detail, while the other wants to escape into work or a TV show, ...

  Hey Friend, An active treatment cycle demands a huge amount of your physical and emotional energy. At the same time, the world keeps spinning. The well-meaning questions from loved ones, the demands of your job, and the invitations from friends continue to arrive, each one asking for a piece of your already depleted reserves. If you're feeling drained, pulled in a million directions, or overwhelmed by other people's input, it’s a clear sign that you need to strengthen your boundaries. Think of boundaries not as walls to shut people out, but as your personal, flexible force field. They are loving, protective filters that let the good stuff in and keep the draining stuff out. Setting them is a radical act of self-respect, and during treatment, it’s not a luxury—it’s essential for your survival. Step 1: Identify What You Actually Need The first step is to get quiet and recognize what you need to feel safe and calm during this specific time. You can’t ask for what you don’t know ...

If you’re on this fertility journey with a partner, you know it’s a path you walk together, hand-in-hand, heart-in-heart. You share the hopes, the dreams, and unfortunately, also the immense stress that often comes with trying to build your family, especially during active treatment phases. Fertility treatments – with their demanding schedules, hormonal medications, invasive procedures, financial burdens, and the emotional rollercoaster of hope and disappointment – can put even the strongest, most loving relationships under incredible pressure. It’s like your partnership, which is usually your safe harbor, suddenly finds itself in the middle of a relentless storm. Communication can get strained, intimacy might shift, and misunderstandings can arise more easily when you’re both feeling frayed and vulnerable. If you’ve felt that strain, if you’ve noticed a little more tension or a little less connection than usual, please know this: it is incredibly normal, and it does not mean your love...

You've walked through so much to get to this point on your donor conception journey. You've done the deep thinking, you've made brave choices, and you're likely feeling a growing sense of commitment and hope as you move forward. We often talk about an "Acceptance Phase," but the truth is, acceptance isn't a one-time destination you arrive at and then never leave. It's more like a home you build in your heart, a place of peace you return to, even if sometimes the emotional weather outside gets a little stormy. So, what happens when, perhaps out of the blue, a wave of that old grief about genetic differences hits you hard? Or a persistent, nagging doubt about your path whispers a little louder than usual? That feeling, that thought, "Oh no, I thought I was past this... why am I feeling so sad or doubtful again? How do I find my way back to that sense of peace when these feelings flare up?" If this sounds familiar, please know you're not alo...

Let’s talk about the waiting. It’s a constant companion on the surrogacy journey, isn’t it? The wait for the screening results, the wait for the match, the wait for the transfer, the agonizing two-week wait after the transfer. And during these periods of waiting, it’s so easy for life to shrink. Our focus narrows, our world becomes defined by the next appointment, the next medication, the next potential outcome. The vibrant colors of our lives can fade into a muted gray. The joy we once found in hobbies, in spontaneous outings, or even in simple moments of peace can feel distant, like a memory from another lifetime. In this state of waiting, it can feel like you’re just existing, holding your breath, waiting for your real life to begin. And in that space, a quiet ache can settle in. The ache of an empty room that was supposed to be a nursery, the ache of a life on pause, the ache of feeling like the journey has stolen not just your time, but your very sense of self. If you feel like yo...

You’re holding your baby, or watching your child play, and your heart is overflowing with a love and gratitude so profound it’s hard to articulate. This is the dream you fought for, the miracle you endured so much to welcome. And then, someone says it – perhaps a well-meaning friend, a relative, or even a casual acquaintance: "Oh, you're SO lucky!" Or maybe, "See? It all worked out in the end, you just needed to relax!" Or, "Well, at least all that struggle is behind you now!" While these comments are almost always intended to be positive, to acknowledge your current joy, they can sometimes land with an unexpected sting. They can feel like they inadvertently minimize the immense struggle, the pain, the losses, and the sheer grit of your infertility journey. It’s as if the arrival of your child is supposed to magically erase the deep scars and complexities of how you got here. If you’ve ever felt a twinge of discomfort, frustration, or even anger at t...

You're in the middle of a hopeful donor conception cycle. The appointments are happening, the plan is in motion, and a new path to your family is unfolding. You think you "should" be feeling nothing but excitement and gratitude. And yet, you find yourself hit by a sudden wave of sadness. Maybe it’s a quiet whisper of grief over the genetic connection you've had to let go of. Maybe it's a general feeling of low mood, a bone-deep exhaustion that has nothing to do with being tired. It can feel so confusing. So isolating. You might even feel guilty, asking yourself, "Why can't I just be happy about this? What's wrong with me?" Please, hear this first: It is completely normal. Your feelings are valid. There is nothing wrong with you. What you are experiencing is one of the most common, yet least-talked-about, aspects of building a family with the help of a donor. It’s the paradox of holding immense hope and deep grief in your heart at the very same ti...

One minute you feel fine, the next you’re welling up with tears over a car commercial or snapping with a flash of irritation that seems to come from nowhere. If this sounds familiar, please hear this: You are not going crazy. You are not "too sensitive." You are a passenger on the hormone rollercoaster that is fertility treatment, and you are in very good company. The physical and emotional side effects of the medications are real, they are powerful, and they can be incredibly tough. This isn't a sign that you're not handling things well; it's a sign that your body is responding to potent hormones designed to do a very big job. Our hope is to give you some tools for your heart and, most importantly, radical permission to be extra gentle with yourself as you ride these waves. Caring for Yourself Through the Fog When you're in the thick of it, it can feel like a dense fog has rolled in, making it hard to see yourself clearly. Here’s how you can find your way thr...