If you’ve ever found yourself surrounded by a growing pile of pregnancy tests, squinting at faint lines under different lights like a detective on a mission, you’re not alone. For many of us navigating pregnancy after loss, that second line doesn’t bring instant joy, it brings a surge of panic, obsession, and an overwhelming need for reassurance. This blog dives into the lesser-known (but deeply relatable) reality of line progression anxiety, the part of pregnancy after loss that’s rarely talked about, but widely felt. If you’ve been there, I see you. And I promise, you’re not crazy, just coping with something heartbreakingly complex, one test at a time.

Father’s Day can be beautiful — but when you’re walking through infertility or grieving a loss, it can also be brutal.
This post is a love letter to the almost-dads, the grieving dads, and the dads still waiting. If this day feels heavy, know you are not alone. Your story matters, even when it hurts. 💛

Thin lining? Welcome to the club no one signs up for—but far too many of us know all too well. If you’ve ever sat through another scan praying for a miracle measurement, only to hear “still too thin,” this one's for you. My journey with a stubborn uterine lining was long, emotional, and exhausting—but eventually, it led to my son. In this blog, I’m sharing what worked, what didn’t, and the hope I found along the way.

Pregnancy after loss isn’t always picture-perfect joy. Sometimes it’s quiet fear, daily symptom checks, and holding your breath between appointments. If you’ve ever felt like you “should” be grateful but instead feel overwhelmed, you’re not alone. In this post, I share my own journey through a pregnancy marked by bleeding, anxiety, and the complicated task of holding both hope and grief in the same body. You deserve space for all your feelings — and a few distractions along the way. 💛

Infertility doesn’t just impact your body — it quietly rewrites your social life, your calendar, and sometimes, your sense of self. You miss the baby showers, the dinner parties, the simple moments that used to feel effortless. Not because you want to, but because sometimes, showing up while silently grieving feels impossible. This blog is for the ones who feel like they’ve vanished in the waiting. If that’s you, you’re not alone — and you still matter, even in the missing.

You spend years trying to get pregnant, then months growing a baby — and just when you think the hard part is over, postpartum hits. And it’s not all cuddles and newborn bliss. It’s exhaustion. It’s identity loss. It’s staring in the mirror wondering where you went.

After four years of infertility, I thought postpartum would feel like a reward. Instead, I found myself overwhelmed, anxious, and desperate to feel like a person again. So I started doing tiny things — painting my nails, taking quiet baths, reclaiming bits of myself in the chaos.

Postpartum is messy and raw and beautiful and hard. But you’re not alone in it. And you’re allowed to take up space in your own story — even now.

👉 Read more about navigating postpartum after infertility and the power of small rituals in healing.