Healing After Infertility and Pregnancy Loss
For years, I thought healing meant finally reaching the outcome I’d been fighting for. I wanted to become a mother. After being diagnosed with infertility in 2015, I spent years pursuing that dream through IVF, medical procedures, surgeries, and hormone treatments.
Then, in 2019, I became pregnant. For a short time, I believed everything I’d been through was finally leading somewhere. At nine weeks, we learned there was no heartbeat. I lost my baby, and that experience changed me in ways I didn’t understand at the time.
When Hope and Grief Exist Together
My infertility journey didn’t end with that loss. I continued IVF for another three years, still hoping I would eventually become a mother, and the physical and emotional demands grew increasingly hard to carry.
During those years, I also lost my mother to heart disease, in 2017. I was grieving more than one thing at once and didn’t always know how to process it. There were moments when the disappointment, anger, sadness, and exhaustion felt overwhelming, and I spent a long time feeling disconnected from myself and my life. Eventually I realized I couldn’t keep putting my own well-being aside.
Learning to Take Care of Myself
On November 27, 2022, I decided I needed to make a change—not to pretend the past hadn’t happened, or suddenly become positive, or forget what I had lost, but because I deserved to take care of myself, too.
I started working with a dietitian, learning about my relationship with food and my mindset, and completed a 28-day medically monitored program that helped me change my nutrition. For the first time in a long time, I was doing something because it was good for me—not to reach a fertility milestone, not to prove anything, simply to care for myself.
Finding Movement Again
In January 2023, I joined EOS Fitness and began working with a personal trainer once a week. It wasn’t easy—there were days I didn’t want to exercise—but I kept showing up.
Then, in May 2023, I discovered Aquabike, attending classes three to four times a week alongside my nutrition plan. After 90 days, I had dropped two clothing sizes, but the most meaningful changes weren’t measured by clothing sizes—I noticed shifts in my mood, sleep, energy, and outlook. And then I found something that mattered just as much: community.
Healing Didn’t Mean Doing It Alone
The people I met through fitness became an important part of my journey. I became part of a supportive group I called my “gym squad,” and we encouraged each other and celebrated each other’s progress. That support taught me that healing doesn’t always happen in isolation—sometimes, having people around you who encourage you can help you keep showing up.
I still had difficult days and grief, but I was learning that moving forward didn’t mean leaving my past behind—it meant learning how to live with it while continuing to build my life.
Finding a New Purpose
Eventually, my fitness journey took me somewhere I never expected. I became a fitness instructor and earned my Aquabike certification—the woman who had once spent years feeling lost was now helping lead others through fitness classes.
I never planned for my journey to take this direction, but looking back, I can see that taking care of myself created space for something new. My experience didn’t erase the infertility or pregnancy loss, and it didn’t change what happened. But it changed how I saw myself.
What Healing Means to Me Now
My weight changed from 195 pounds on November 27, 2022, to 125 pounds on November 27, 2025. That physical transformation is something I’m proud of, but healing was never just about losing weight. It was about rebuilding trust in myself, learning consistency and discipline, and allowing myself to grieve while making room for new experiences. And it was about understanding that a difficult chapter can be part of your story without being the entire story.
I still carry the memories of the baby I lost, and I still miss my mother. Those things will always be part of me, but they no longer represent everything that I am.
Today, I can look back at the woman who was hurting and recognize how far she came. My healing wasn’t a straight line—it took time. And for me, it began when I finally decided to take care of the person who had been carrying all that pain.
If you’re going through a difficult season, give yourself permission to take healing one day at a time. You don’t have to have everything figured out. Sometimes, one small step toward caring for yourself is enough to begin moving forward.
