My lower abdomen was covered in yellow bruises from the injections I gave myself twice a day. I cried over the smallest things — misplacing my keys, spilling coffee, or realizing I’d be late again for yet another fertility clinic appointment. It felt like every little mistake confirmed my failure to do what should come naturally: get pregnant.
Last year, I joined the millions turning to fertility technology in hopes of having a child. I dove deep into the science of conception, learning about treatment options and lifestyle choices that might help or hurt my chances. I spent thousands of dollars, went through endless doctor visits, endured two surgeries, and flooded my body with hormones — all because I believed motherhood was within reach if I just tried hard enough.
The pamphlets at my clinic warned that IVF would be hard, physically and emotionally. But no words could prepare me for the toll it would take on my mental health. I also didn’t expect to feel so alone. Friends and family, despite their love, couldn’t truly understand what I was going through.
For two full IVF cycles, my life revolved around injections, ultrasounds, and lab tests. By the second round, I felt emotionally drained and hopeless. The excitement I once had was gone. Seeing others announce pregnancies made me feel sad, not happy. I finally understood why the clinic posted reminders asking patients not to bring children to appointments. The sight of a baby could be too much.
In February, the White House issued an executive order aiming to protect IVF access and reduce its high costs. This could help many financially, but money isn’t the only burden. Mental health is often left out of the conversation, even though it plays a huge role in the IVF experience.
One morning, I cried while biking to the clinic and thought, “Why isn’t there someone here I can talk to about how hard this is emotionally?” But I knew the answer. I barely had the energy or time to find a therapist outside the clinic, let alone go to regular sessions.
So I turned to Reddit. I spent hours reading posts from others who were also going through IVF. Some had multiple miscarriages or more egg retrievals than I had. Some quit their jobs or paused their lives completely just to focus on treatment. Many talked about the weight gain, the emotional rollercoaster, and how IVF had taken over their identity. I wasn’t alone — but it still felt lonely.
The data support this widespread mental strain. A 2016 study by the University of California, San Francisco, found that nearly 57% of women and about 33% of men had signs of clinical depression during an 18-month IVF process. Almost 80% of women and over 60% of men showed symptoms of anxiety. Yet, during the same period, only 21% of women and 11% of men received any mental health support.
Other psychological conditions tied to infertility include obsessive-compulsive disorder, substance abuse, and eating disorders. In fact, some researchers have found that the emotional toll of infertility is similar to the stress experienced by people with cancer or HIV.
Whether emotional stress directly lowers IVF success rates is still debated. However, one study showed that reducing the stress hormone cortisol before IVF treatment might help improve outcomes. Another study found that psychological support could even increase the chances of pregnancy.
In an ideal world, fertility clinics would offer mental health support as part of the standard care. Therapy sessions could be scheduled around medical appointments, making it easier for patients to get help. Even better, those services would be affordable or covered by insurance.
But fertility care is largely unregulated. If changes are to happen, they’ll likely come from individual clinics choosing to prioritize mental health.
Some clinics are already doing this. Elizabeth Grill, director of psychological services at Weill Cornell Medicine’s Center for Reproductive Medicine, says that the number one reason people quit IVF is the psychological burden. Despite knowing how hard IVF is emotionally, she says there’s still a big disconnect between what patients need and what clinics provide.
Grill also chairs RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association, which helps people find support groups and mental health professionals. But not all therapists accept insurance, and many patients don’t even know where to start. The 2016 study found that less than 27% of patients had ever been given mental health resources by their clinics.
Even something as simple as a list of recommended local therapists could make a big difference, Grill says. “Sometimes there’s a learning curve,” she explains. “Clinics need to be educated about the mental health needs of their patients.”
Support groups can also help. Grill noted that many people feel a deep sense of loss because the friends who supported them through every other challenge don’t understand this one. I felt that too. But I also found unexpected support from acquaintances — people who had frozen their eggs or gone through IVF themselves. We bonded over the details we never shared with anyone else.
IVF is more than just a medical procedure. It’s an emotional journey filled with hope, heartbreak, and uncertainty. If fertility clinics want to truly support their patients, they must recognize that treating the body is only half the battle. The mind needs care too.
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