By Hilary Metcalfe
When I miscarried 5 years ago, I thought that grief would be one of the hardest things I’d ever live through. What I didn’t realise was that it also rewired the way I looked at myself, my body, my hope, my future.
So when the words “IVF” first entered the conversation, it wasn’t just a medical term. It was loaded. It felt like stepping onto a path where I had no map, only the weight of my loss and a fragile seed of hope.
And here’s the thing no one tells you: IVF is as much an emotional journey as it is a medical one. Yes, there are needles, scans, and medications, but it’s the waiting rooms, the two-week waits, the constant rising and crashing of hope that test you most.
I wanted to write this piece not as an expert, but as someone who’s lived it. And I’ve also dug into the research, because I think women deserve both lived truth and evidence when they’re trying to hold on to hope.
1. Grief Doesn’t Vanish, It Walks With You
After miscarriage, I expected IVF to feel like a clean slate. But grief came with me, like a shadow. Research shows women entering IVF after pregnancy loss experience higher anxiety and depression scores than those who haven’t miscarried. It makes sense: your body carries memory, and every injection, every blood test, can trigger that loss.
Preparing emotionally doesn’t mean erasing grief. It means allowing it to exist alongside your hope. Some days, I whispered to myself: Both can be true. I can be scared, and I can still want this baby.
2. Build Your Safety Net Before You Need It
I learned the hard way that white-knuckling through doesn’t work. During miscarriage, I shut down. During IVF, I forced myself to open up.
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Therapy and support groups: Studies show women who join peer groups during IVF report lower stress and higher resilience. Talking to women who “get it” dissolves the shame.
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Partner communication: Partners process differently. Research suggests couples who schedule “IVF check-ins”, short, honest conversations, have stronger relationship satisfaction during treatment.
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Rituals of calm: A warm cup of tea, journaling, walking barefoot in the garden — small rituals give you back ownership of your body in a process that can feel mechanical.
3. Redefine Control, Or It Will Break You
After miscarriage, I craved control. IVF made it impossible. Everything ran on someone else’s schedule. My ovaries were measured. My hormones charted. Even hope felt rationed.
What helped was redefining control:
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Deciding who I shared updates with (spoiler: not everyone gets a seat at this table).
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Choosing one or two areas of life I could influence — like cooking nourishing meals or protecting my sleep.
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Setting boundaries with social media (IVF hashtags at 2 a.m. will not save your soul).
Psychologists call this “locus of control”. Shifting even small things into your sphere helps ease the helplessness.
4. Allow Yourself to Dream, Carefully
IVF can make you afraid to hope. After miscarriage, I was terrified of imagining a baby, a nursery, even a bump. But psychologists warn that cutting yourself off from hope entirely can erode resilience.
So I made a deal with myself: I could dream in micro-moments. A future coffee date with a stroller. A tiny hand grabbing my finger. I didn’t build the whole nursery in my head. But I didn’t starve myself of joy either.
5. Hold Space for Both Outcomes
This is the hardest truth: IVF doesn’t guarantee a baby. The global success rate per cycle hovers around 25–30%. Which means preparing emotionally also means preparing for the possibility that it might not work, at least not the first time.
When I allowed myself to imagine both paths, I felt less like I was bracing for impact and more like I was learning to soften into whatever came. As one therapist told me: “It’s not about protecting yourself from disappointment. It’s about strengthening your ability to rise after it.”
If you’re reading this before beginning IVF, I want you to know something: Your body is not failing. You are about to embark on one of the hardest journeys modern medicine can ask of someone, and your courage to even consider it already speaks volumes.
Prepare your heart the way you prepare your body. Honour your grief, but keep a hand free for hope. Build your anchors, find your people, and remember, no outcome defines your worth.
From miscarriage to IVF, what I’ve learned is this: the emotional work is not a side note. It is the journey.
ABOUT HILARY
Hilary is the Co-Founder of the SABI, a Holistic Nutritionist, natural, whole foods Chef, product developer and advocate for women getting to know their bodies, cycles and selves better. Born in Los Angeles, California and raised in Baja California, Mexico, she now lives in Los Cabos with her partner Kees, a curly-tailed rescue dog from Curacao, Flint and her rainbow babies Paloma and Bea.
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HORMONAL & PROUD
Created as a brand to help women navigate the toughest moments in pregnancy, childbirth, postpartum — and practically every stage of life, the SABI aims to change the narrative around our hormones from one of taboo, embarrassment and loneliness, to awareness and even pride. Much more than a wellness brand, SABI offers a carefully crafted line of products to carry you through your hormonal journey; a set of rituals, supportive tools, and ancient herbal remedies that have been tested time and again by women and now, backed by medicine. SABI is a blend of science and nature conceived by women who have experienced the joys and deep implications of bringing a child into the world, the pains of a heavy and difficult period, miscarriage and difficulty conceiving
Here is an invitation to get to know your body and its cycles better and to really understand what is going on inside. Learn to use your hormonal cycle to your advantage no matter your stage of life, and know that you can always support and balance your hormone levels. Look for the right sources of information, know that there is help, and know that you’re supported.
DISCLAIMER
The SABI blog and articles are not meant to instruct or advise on medical or health conditions, but to inform. The information and opinions presented here do not substitute professional medical advice or consultations with healthcare professionals for your unique situation.
