Will This Ever Happen For Me?

There is a moment in almost every trying-to-conceive journey—whether you’re on month three, year three, navigating IUIs, IVF, or the heartbreaking uncertainty of loss—when one quiet, terrifying question rises to the surface:

“Will this ever happen for me?”

It’s a question that doesn’t just come from fear.

It comes from longing.

From exhaustion.

From watching cycles pass and hope stretch thin.

From wanting something so deeply it feels stitched into your identity.

Let’s break down why this question feels so heavy—and how to cope with it without losing yourself in the process.

Why This Thought Hits So Hard

1. It challenges your sense of safety.

Uncertainty activates the same emotional pathways as threat, meaning your brain reacts to “I don’t know if this will happen” the same way it reacts to “I’m in danger.”

So it makes sense that the question leaves you feeling shaky, panicked, or overwhelmed.

2. It confronts the part of you that’s dreaming.

This isn’t a casual desire. This is a fundamental dream—a family, a future, a chapter you can see so clearly you can almost touch it.

When the dream feels out of reach, grief and longing naturally show up.

3. It can feel like time is working against you.

Whether or not that’s medically true, the fear of time running out adds pressure that intensifies the question.

But Here’s What This Thought Does Not Mean

❌ It does not mean your body is failing you.

❌ It does not mean you have less grit or less hope.

❌ It does not mean your story is over.

❌ It does not mean you’re destined for disappointment.

It is simply your mind trying to make sense of uncertainty—and protect your heart from more pain. In its own messy way, this question is a form of self-preservation.

How to Cope When “Will This Ever Happen for Me?” Takes Over

1. Name the thought—not the truth

Instead of treating the question like a prediction, treat it like a thought pattern.

Try saying:

“I’m noticing a fear-based thought.”

That tiny reframe creates emotional distance and reduces its power.

2. Anchor back into what is in your control

Fertility is full of variables you can’t influence. But you can control:

• The support you bring into your journey

• How you care for your body

• The boundaries you set with others

• The information you receive from providers

• The way you speak to yourself during hard moments

Control does not guarantee outcomes—but it decreases helplessness.

3. Give yourself permission to feel both hope and fear

You don’t need to pick a lane.

You’re allowed to be hopeful and scared at the same time.

Both emotions can live in your body without canceling each other out.

In fact, this mix is one of the most normal parts of the TTC experience.

4. Shrink the timeline

When you think too far ahead (“What if this never happens?”), your brain spirals.

Bring it back to the next step, not the final outcome.

Ask:

“What is the next small thing I can do to support myself today?”

Maybe that’s scheduling a consult.

Maybe it’s taking a break from tracking.

Maybe it’s doing nothing at all.

5. Build a toolbox for the two-week waits and the long waits

Calming strategies can help interrupt the mental loop:

• Box breathing

• Grounding exercises

• Journaling prompts

• Imagery that lets your body relax

• Talking to someone who gets it

This is not about forcing positivity—it’s about creating steadiness.

A Reframe to Carry With You

When the question arises—and it will—you can meet it with:

“This is a hard moment, not a final answer.”

“My story is still unfolding.”

“I can take care of myself while I wait.”

The future is uncertain, yes. But so is possibility.

You are still in your story—not at the end of it.

If You’re Reading This, Let This Be Your Permission Slip

To cry when you need to.

To take breaks when your heart is cracked open.

To ask for help.

To protect your hope without abandoning it.

To hold space for the family you’re building—even if it’s taking longer than you ever imagined.

And no matter where you are in the journey, I want you to remember:

You are not alone.

You are not behind.

And this question—“Will this ever happen for me?”—is one you never have to carry by yourself.

with love,

Katie