In Judaism, we are told to “be fruitful and multiply.” Ours is a tradition deeply rooted in continuity, family and the sacredness of bringing new life into the world. From Shabbat dinners to baby namings to generations gathered around holiday tables, motherhood and family-building are often woven into the very fabric of Jewish communal life.
And because of that, conversations about having children can begin early and often.
Sometimes it happens moments after the glass is broken beneath the chuppah.
“So… when are you going to start trying?”
The question is usually asked with excitement, love and genuine hope for a couple’s future. But for the nearly one-in-six couples who will struggle to get or stay pregnant, these seemingly innocent questions can carry enormous emotional weight.
“What are you waiting for?” “Are you trying yet?” “When is it your turn?”
For those navigating infertility, pregnancy loss or reproductive challenges, these conversations can quickly become deeply personal, painful and isolating.
Within Jewish communities, where family and children are often celebrated so openly and beautifully, infertility can sometimes create a quiet loneliness. Many people find themselves carrying enormous grief while simultaneously attending baby namings, holidays, synagogue events and family gatherings where conversations about children feel unavoidable. The tension between wanting to feel connected to community while privately struggling can be emotionally exhausting.
When a person or couple is referred to a fertility specialist, they are not simply entering a medical process. They are entering an emotional one. One filled with hope, fear, grief, vulnerability, uncertainty, and often, profound exhaustion.
Most fertility clinics begin with a detailed intake process. Medical history, reproductive history, lab work, ultrasounds, hormone testing, timelines, next steps. Suddenly, something that once felt intimate and organic becomes clinical and scheduled. Your future starts being discussed in appointment blocks, percentages, medication calendars and treatment plans. That transition can feel deeply disorienting.
One of the most grounding things you can do during this process is come prepared with questions. Information cannot erase pain, but it can help soften the helplessness that infertility often creates. Some questions you may want to ask include:
- What does the diagnostic process look like, and how will it guide treatment recommendations?
- How long will the initial workup take before treatment begins?
- What treatment options are available to us, and what do you typically recommend first?
- At what point do we reassess or move from one intervention to another?
- Are there lifestyle factors that may support fertility or pregnancy outcomes?
- What should we realistically expect emotionally and physically during treatment?
Infertility doesn’t just challenge your body. It challenges your assumptions about how life was “supposed” to unfold.
When most people imagine growing their family, they picture holidays, birthday candles, bedtime routines, family photos, future homes, tiny shoes by the door. Infertility can make those dreams suddenly feel fragile and uncertain. And when the journey toward parenthood moves from the privacy of your relationship into exam rooms and waiting rooms, it’s natural for emotions to come flooding in alongside it — grief, anger, hope, jealousy, fear, numbness, resentment, longing — sometimes all before noon.
There is no “right” way to emotionally experience infertility.
Somedays you may feel hopeful and empowered. Other days you may barely recognize yourself. You may find yourself obsessing over timelines, symptoms, numbers or outcomes. You may feel isolated from friends who seem to get pregnant effortlessly. You may feel disconnected from your own body. None of this makes you dramatic, weak or ungrateful. It makes you human.
During this season, self-care often needs to look less like bubble baths and more like emotional survival.
That may mean:
- Educating yourself enough to feel informed, but not so much that you spiral.
- Finding a therapist or support group that understands infertility specifically.
- Building a support system that allows you to be honest instead of performatively positive.
- Staying as grounded in the present moment as possible instead of living entirely in the “what ifs.”
- Letting yourself feel whatever comes up without judging it.
- And perhaps most importantly: continuing to check in with your partner.
Infertility is rarely just an individual experience. It impacts relationships, communication, intimacy, identity and emotional bandwidth. The logistical demands of treatment can make connection start to feel transactional. Protecting moments of closeness, humor, softness and honesty matters deeply during this process.
As fertility treatment becomes increasingly medicalized, many people discover they still desperately need emotional and communal care alongside the clinical care. You were never meant to carry something this heavy entirely on your own.
Whether you are personally navigating infertility or supporting someone who is, remember this: no two journeys look the same. There is no universal timeline, no single emotional roadmap and no perfect way to move through this experience.
But compassion helps. Community helps. Being witnessed helps.
And while infertility can feel incredibly isolating, you deserve support that reminds you you are far more than a diagnosis, a timeline or a treatment plan.
Erin Schlozman, LCPC, is a licensed therapist, maternal mental health advocate, author, and educator specializing in matrescence, postpartum mental health, and the emotional realities of modern motherhood. She is the author of “The Myth of the Perfect Mom” and runs @4th.Trimester.Wellness on Instagram.
