What I Would've told Myself the Moment (In)fertility Walked into my Life | Jessi Nesbitt

Sometimes in life it seems like things are going your way, you have love, a career, friends, things you enjoy every day, and a day comes where you think, I want to have a baby. You find the right time, get excited, return to all those childhood dreams of having that big belly, and you begin the fun of trying to conceive. At least it was fun in the beginning, there was fun in buying my first few pregnancy tests, there was fun in the thinking I “could” be pregnant, there was fun in looking at my husband imagining us being parents soon. The fun stopped about 5 months into trying. Like someone stomping on the break going 60km/hr. That’s where I got that sinking feeling, you know the one, that deep unrest with the voice “something is wrong”. That’s the moment (in)fertility walked in to my life.


At first I had ability to soothe and calm these fears, coaching myself it had “only” been a few tries really, searching google to find out that it was “15-20% chance of conceiving every month” and I did the math. I would be pregnant in a year for sure, so keep going. "No biggie," I thought.


I wish I could scoop up this version of myself and take her for coffee to break the bad news to her. This was not going to end soon, in fact she was in for 7 long years, where her marriage, her emotions, her mental health, her friendships and even her relationship with her body would deteriorate. I would hold her and tell her to be incredibly kind to herself throughout this time. I would tell her that her ego of “I can handle everything” would be one of her greatest downfalls, which would hide her pain from not only those around her, but from herself. She needed to prepare herself to face griefs, losses and wounds she would carry for the rest of her life. I would warn her that she would eventually rage war with her body and lose the sacredness of her womb and her femininity. I would tell her to prepare that this journey would be lonely and isolating, that there was very little fertility community support or good therapy out there, and few health supports outside of the fertility clinic.


I would wipe her tears, wrap her in a blanket and order another coffee. I would tell her that her greatest suffering would create one of the greatest missions in her life. She would redefine her relationship with health, with community, with mental health, and with her sweet husband. I would tell her the journey became a personal evolution where she would break shackles of what she was supposed to do, suppose to be or have in her life. She would stop playing by many of the ‘rules’ of society, and no longer tolerate be told what to do or have to be “normal”. Then she would move even deeper into her healing, break limiting beliefs about age, money and heal her relationship with her spiritual path and self. The biggest surprise of all? Those horrible breakdowns were actually the breakthrough.


She would grow wildly beyond what she thought was possible. She would learn to move through grief, move aside fear and step into real empowerment and real self-belief for the first time in her life. She would learn to stand up for herself and invite the medical system into her care versus handing over her body and her future to medical intervention and tests. She can reclaim her body and use her mind to assist with healing. I would tell her all this helped her find peace with giving up her journey, and the greatest surprise is she would become a mother anyhow.


And in those final moments before our conversation would end, I would tell her she used every ounce of this journey to become a fertility advocate, fertility fighter, and healer in this space. I would tell her this would completely change her career. She would do brave things like open a fertility-focused practice, see hundreds of women, couples and men going through the journey and make a difference in their lives. She'd go public, start @yxefertility and show up on Instagram, which would repeatedly take her outside of her comfort zone. She would gain international education for years, and eventually speak at fundraisers, (in)fertility support groups, educate medical professionals and even speak at an important national education event. Her passion would be unstoppable, she would become the co-founder of Moonstone Fertility Wellness Support and begin making more resources, groups, workshops for this community. She would show up for others, the way she needed in her journey. And she would be okay.


Hugs to you, to me, to all of us who understand this journey. Here is to the unstoppable.


– Jessi




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