I’ve been a counsellor for 14 years, but it was my own struggle to have a family that led me to dedicate part of my practice to supporting women who can’t conceive, are experiencing pregnancy loss and/or are undergoing fertility treatment. I started my business in January 2023, when my children were small and I was ready to use my brain in a different way again. Once they were in bed, I saw a small number of clients from my home, supporting them with anxiety, people pleasing. life transitions, relationship difficulties, and grief.
“I no longer felt pulled back into my own story and was ready to stand alongside other women in theirs.”
For a long time, I avoided working with infertility in the therapy room, because I needed distance from my own painful experience. Then in 2024 something shifted. Three women, each at a different stage of their me precisely because I’d “been there” and they wanted someone who understood the invisible parts: the jealousy, the scan results, the way friendships start to feel different. Listening to their stories of heartbreak, uncertainty and loss, three things stood out.
- They reached out because lived experience mattered to them
- Ten years after my own IVF there was still very little emotional support available
- I no longer felt pulled back into my own story – I was ready to stand alongside other women in theirs.
Fast forward to 2026 and fertility work is now a core part of what I do. I’m a registered member of the BICA (British Infertility Counselling Association), run online workshops for women navigating infertility, deliver CPD training for counsellors, have shared my story on BBC Radio York and in Army & You, appeared on podcasts including Fertility Spotlight, and I’m the resident counsellor at a local fertility retreat. I still see clients for a wide range of issues, but the fertility side of my practice is fuelled by one question: “What would have helped me when I was going through this?”
Even though I now have a beautiful family through IVF, I haven’t forgotten how isolating it felt to watch friends become pregnant one by one, and the torturous 3am thoughts about whether it would ever happen for me. One theme that comes up again and again in my work is relationships. Managing other people (partners, friends, family, colleagues) can be one of the hardest and least talked about parts of struggling to conceive. In a recent blog, I wrote about how to cope when your friend is pregnant and you’re not and how honesty (even if it’s not the whole truth), “safe” topics and gentle boundaries can protect a friendship without abandoning yourself. The same principles apply more widely., for example, family members often want so badly to take away the pain that they slip into advice and fixing. “Why don’t you go on holiday and relax?”, “Try not to stress, it won’t be helping”, “My friend’s daughter had IVF and she just did X, Y and Z…” – all well intentioned, all potentially deeply hurtful.
There is no manual for how to manage these situations, so I am sharing my top five tips for anyone who is finding it tricky to deal with loved ones:
- You’re allowed privacy. Decide one simple line to share (e.g. “We’re getting help, but I’m not up for details”) and use it on repeat.
- Notice who feels safe and who leaves you drained. Give more of your limited energy to the people who truly listen.
- It’s okay to step back from baby showers, group chats, or pregnancy and children-heavy meet ups; protecting your emotional wellbeing isn’t selfish.
- Tell loved ones what actually helps, such as “please just listen”, “please don’t send me surprise announcements”, instead of waiting for them to guess.
- Remember your journey is nobody’s business. You don’t have to justify your choices, treatment decisions, or boundaries to anyone.
And conversely, if you are close to someone who is going through infertility and feeling lost as to how to support them, here are five things to think about:
- Swap fixing for listening: “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I’m here.”
- Let them lead on how much they share; don’t push for details or updates.
- Keep their information private unless they’ve clearly said you can pass it on.
- Avoid “at least…” or “just relax” statements. It minimises an experience that is genuinely awful.
- Use small gestures to show you care, such as a text on scan day, a hug, a card, or flowers on a tough date.
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