My Mistake in Infertility: Feeling Guilty

I think it’s human nature to find someone—or something—to blame when life doesn’t go according to plan. It’s how our brains make sense of the chaos. We like clean equations: cause and effect, problem and solution, yin and yang, if-this-then-that. It’s comforting to believe there’s an answer, even if the answer isn’t what we want to hear.

But here’s the plot twist no one wants: infertility laughs in the face of our carefully constructed logic.

Yes, sometimes there are explanations. Stage-four endometriosis? Okay, there’s a clue. Low sperm count? That’s a data point. But to be the reason? To be the smoking gun that solves the entire case? Not so much. If science actually knew exactly how to get pregnant every time, infertility wouldn’t even be a word we toss around while ugly-crying in our cars after another negative test.

And yet—I spent years convinced that somehow, I was the problem. I carried guilt like an emotional backpack filled with bricks, thinking if I just did more, tried harder, or fixed something in myself, maybe, finally, it would work.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

The Expensive, Exhausting Weight of Guilt

The thing about guilt is that it doesn’t just sit quietly in the corner while you go through infertility treatments. Oh no—it sets up camp. It moves in, eats all your snacks, and whispers toxic little thoughts into your ear at 2 a.m.

You feel guilty about the money. Those IVF bills that hit like a semi-truck? You start adding up what you could have done with that money: a bigger house, more vacations, finally buying the couch you’ve had bookmarked for three years. But instead, you’re funneling it into injections, ultrasounds, and procedures that don’t come with any guarantees.

You feel guilty about the emotional toll on your partner, your family, even your friendships. You feel guilty for being too sad, guilty for not being sad enough, guilty for wanting to give up, and guilty for daring to hope again.

But here’s the thing I wish someone had grabbed me by the shoulders and told me: guilt will not make you pregnant. It won’t speed up your timeline, it won’t improve your egg quality, and it definitely won’t make the two-week wait less soul-crushing.

The Fight We Didn’t See Coming

The guilt seeped into everything—especially our marriage.

Infertility almost broke us. We fought about everything: the expenses, the “right” protocol, whose body was “to blame,” who was emotionally worse off, and whose turn it was to cry on the bathroom floor that week. Every decision felt monumental. Every conversation felt loaded. Every test result, every canceled cycle, every embryo transfer—it was like holding our breath while the universe flipped a coin.

And then came the guilt about the fights. Because nothing says “fun date night” like blaming yourself and your partner for something neither of you actually caused.

How Therapy Saved Us

The turning point? Therapy.

We finally admitted that we were both drowning—just in different parts of the same ocean. I was physically and emotionally wrecked from the endless shots, procedures, and hormones. My husband was emotionally wrecked watching me go through it, feeling helpless and powerless while trying to hold us both together.

Therapy became the neutral ground where we laid it all out—the fears, the resentment, the judgments, the heartbreak, the hope. We stopped playing tug-of-war and started standing on the same side of the rope.

I stopped blaming myself for something I didn’t cause. He stopped trying to “fix” everything because some things simply can’t be fixed. We learned to sit in the discomfort together instead of letting guilt build walls between us.

And slowly, the weight lifted.

If You’re Carrying Guilt Right Now

Here’s what I want you to know if you’re deep in the trenches of infertility: you didn’t cause this. Your worth, your identity, and your marriage are not defined by whether or not your body cooperates with your timeline.

Yes, the financial stress is real. Yes, the emotional exhaustion is real. But guilt isn’t going to get you where you want to go. Therapy, community, and self-compassion will.

Because this isn’t about “fixing” you. It’s about helping you survive one of the hardest experiences of your life without losing yourself—or each other—in the process.

So if you’re sitting there with a negative test in your hand, a credit card bill that makes you want to scream, and a brain screaming, “This is my fault,”—pause. Breathe. And know that it isn’t.

You’re not broken. You’re human. And humans deserve grace.