Motherhood Intended

The Part of Infertility No One Warns You About: Your Marriage

Jacqueline Baird Season 7 Episode 123

Infertility doesn’t just affect your body—it can quietly strain your marriage in ways no one prepares you for.

In this solo episode, Jacqueline talks openly about how infertility, IVF, pregnancy loss, and long fertility journeys can impact a relationship—not just during treatment, but long after you’ve successfully grown your family.

She talks about the emotional survival mode couples often slip into, why communication can break down, how grief and coping styles differ between partners, and why those patterns don’t automatically disappear once a baby arrives. If anything, they can be harder to address when you’re busy raising a family and expected to “just be grateful.”

Jacqueline also shares why she believes therapy should be part of the fertility process—not because something is wrong, but because infertility is traumatic and relationships deserve support.

If you’ve ever felt disconnected from your partner during or after infertility, this episode is for you.

In This Episode, We Cover:

  • Why there should be a “warning label” on fertility treatments
  • How infertility quietly rewires a marriage
  • When love starts to feel like logistics and survival
  • Different coping styles and emotional labor between partners
  • Why therapy can be a powerful support during fertility treatment
  • How infertility impacts relationships after pregnancy or completing your family
  • Lingering trauma, grief, and coping mechanisms that don’t just disappear
  • A gentle journaling prompt to help you reflect and reconnect

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If this episode resonated, you might journal and reflect on:

  • What coping habits did we develop during infertility that helped us survive—but may not be serving us anymore?
  • Where do I notice protection or distance showing up in our relationship?
  • What kind of support do I wish we had—during infertility or now?

You don’t need answers today. Awareness is enough.

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SPEAKER_00:

Are you tired of scrolling your feed only to see the highlight reel version of motherhood? If so, then you're in the right place. Welcome to the Motherhood Intended podcast. I'm your host, Jacqueline Baird, and I'm a passionate mom here to support women like you in their unique journeys to and through motherhood. I have been through it all. We're gonna be talking about things like trying to conceive, infertility, IVF, surrogacy, mom life, and more. It's time to get real about what it takes to be a mom and come together in the fact that things don't always go as planned. So here we go. Hey friend, it's Jacqueline. Today's episode is a solo one, and I want to start by being really honest about that. The season launched strong. I had a great episode ready, momentum was there, and then life happened. If you didn't catch that first episode of season seven, definitely go back and take a listen. It's with my good friend Allison, and she shares her whole journey about everything from freezing her eggs like four years ago to how she landed where she is today with an almost six-month-old son. And it's a really full circle moment. She was like my fourth episode of this podcast, and to have her come back at like the 122nd episode was pretty cool. So give that a listen if you haven't yet. But yeah, this season I had planned to start and launch so strong with certain episodes, but then life happened. Illness, kid stuff, personal stuff, the kind of things that don't ask permission before they take over your week. I don't know if you can tell on the mic, but I am very nasally right now. Last week, our family was slowly hit with what I can only assume is norovirus, whatever GI illness was going around, literally took us down like one at a time, just long enough to like stretch it out over an entire week. Which, as you know, when you're sick or you're taking care of people who are sick, time just moves at a different pace. And no ounce of me was reserved to be able to do anything outside of parenting and caring for myself and trying to get better. We have since moved past that, but now we're kind of in this like coughing, nasally, sinus-y situation. I'm still functioning and feeling fine, but this runny nose is no joke. But yeah, for a moment I considered actually just skipping this week entirely because I was feeling overwhelmed, but I really didn't want to just ghost, especially when I was so excited about the launch of this season and all the new episodes I have in store for you. Plus, infertility already comes with so much silence and so much waiting, so much time where it feels like nothing is moving, even when everything inside you feels heavy and loud. And I really didn't want to add to that silence. So instead of forcing something perfectly planned, I decided to show up imperfectly today and talk about something that doesn't get nearly enough attention when we talk about infertility. And that is the impact infertility can have on a marriage. As I was preparing for this episode, you know, it stems from some personal struggles that I've been having, but also a lot of reflecting that my husband and I have been doing recently, just over the last decade of our lives, looking back and just kind of pinpointing where things took a turn, where things got hard, and just really diving in to make sure that we can repair and I'll say reroute things to get back on track. And as I was thinking about this, I decided that there should be a warning label on fertility treatments. Not like a scary one, not a discouraging one, but an honest one, right? Like a warning label that says, this may take longer than you expect, or this may change how you see yourself. This may strain your relationship in ways you didn't anticipate. Because when you begin fertility treatment, it often feels like a plan, right? A solution, a path forward. I know for myself, even once like a diagnosis came or something was pinpointed that could be inhibiting us from getting pregnant, I wasn't even upset. I was like, boom, we have an answer. That means we can find a solution. And like you think, okay, we'll do this for a bit, we'll get answers, we'll move on. But then slowly, quietly, it becomes a lifestyle. Of course, not one you set out to have, but it's a lifestyle. It consumes you appointments, medications, waiting, hope, disappointment, resetting expectations again and again. And no one really prepares you for how much of that process your relationship will absorb. Infertility doesn't just add stress to a relationship, it rewires how couples function. In my head, I can truly imagine there's like pre-infertility and post-infertility, Jacqueline and Josh. And then, of course, there's the versions of us in between as we were navigating all sorts of struggles, whether it was trying to get pregnant, trying to stay pregnant, grieving a loss, managing a NICU stay, diving into surrogacy. I mean, there's like the in between, there's so many layers, but distinctly I can envision us before trying to have kids and now us done having kids. And we are completely different couple. Of course, when I look back, there are like so many parts of that young couple that I want, like anyone, whether you've gone through infertility or not, you know, your dating years, the first few years of marriage, of course, they're going to look different than what it will be like 10 years later. But you hope that you are growing in the same direction. And at least with infertility, you come out the other side positively. One of the biggest challenges I see is that partners often cope very differently. You know, throughout fertility treatments and things, one person might want to talk everything through, process every emotion out loud, name every fear as it comes up. The other person might need space, distraction, silence, a way to get through the day without falling apart. And neither is wrong. But without understanding that, it can feel like rejection. Another shift that happens is emotional labor. Often one partner becomes the researcher, the tracker, the scheduler, the emotional processor. They carry the appointments, the questions, the grief, the what-ifs. And even when the other partner is supportive, it can still feel uneven. Then there's grief. Grief doesn't follow a shared timeline, that's for sure. One of you might be ready to hope again while the other is still trying to protect themselves from another loss. That doesn't mean one of you cares more. It means infertility is asking you to grieve in parallel, not always together. And at some point, love can start to feel like logistics. Am I right? Sex becomes scheduled, conversations become transactional. How are you? Turns into did you call the clinic? And it's not because the love is gone. It's because you're tired. You're managing trauma, you're surviving something that keeps moving the finish line. One of the hardest realizations for couples is recognizing that surviving infertility together doesn't automatically mean you're still connected in the same way. And that can be really scary to admit. This is where I'm going to say something I believe deeply. It's not something I necessarily did right away, but from my learned experiences, I can share how deeply I believe in this now. I genuinely think that couples should be in therapy before or during fertility treatment. Not because your marriage is failing, but because infertility is traumatic. Trauma changes how we communicate, how we attach, how we protect ourselves. Therapy isn't about like fixing each other. It's about having a space where emotions can be translated instead of misinterpreted, where resentment can be named safely, where grief doesn't have to compete, where you can learn how to stay connected while hurting. And in therapy, you will have somebody who can guide you through your relationship and help it stay strong throughout all of the unknowns. Sometimes you just don't know what questions to be asking your partner during a time like this. I know in our situation, my husband was always trying to stay strong because I was taking on the brunt of the work, meaning like the logistical side of things, the appointments, the tracking. And then of course it was my body. Like I had been through a lot. And so he was my biggest supporter. But it wasn't until shit hit the fan that I even realized, like, wow, you're struggling too. And it doesn't help anybody to bottle everything in or to quote unquote stay strong for the other person. This should be an experience you go through together. You can lean on each other together. It's not one-sided. And honestly, support doesn't have to mean years of therapy. Sometimes it's just a season. Sometimes it's check-ins. Sometimes it's simply having a neutral place to land. And there's another part of this conversation that really gets talked about. What happens to a relationship after you get pregnant or after you finally complete your family? Because infertility doesn't end cleanly when the test is positive. It doesn't disappear when a baby arrives, and it doesn't vanish once your family looks the way you hoped it would. During infertility, most couples go into survival mode. We didn't even realize how many years we spent in survival mode. And honestly, it got to the point where we didn't know how to live any other way. And it was like we woke up one day as a couple and were like, I don't think everything should be this hard. You know, we were used to functioning at such a level of uncertainty and effort and waiting for the other shoe to drop situation where like that's the only way we knew how to live. And when I say it doesn't stop, right, when you get pregnant or after you've completed your family, it's because sometimes it's at that moment you think that like you've hit the finish line, you won the prize, you had your baby, and that's when everything hits. The years prior that you didn't work through or deal with come crashing down on you. Feelings of disappointment or putting so much stress on yourself to be happy because you know you should just be grateful that you have a family. Like that's not realistic. And I'm here to tell you that both partners in the relationship can feel this way. It's not just the women, it's not just the person who was pregnant. It affects both parties. And when you're in this survival mode, I mean, you learn how to brace yourself, how to not hope too much, how to emotionally protect yourself. And these coping mechanisms are often necessary at the time, but they don't automatically turn off when the crisis is over. Sometimes the guardedness stays, the hyper-vigilance stays, the emotional distance stays. If I'm speaking from experience, I can vouch for all three of these things: guarding our emotions so we don't get hurt, being hyper-vigilant with the kids and making sure they have everything they need and every appointment and everything, just because you're so used to tracking and being so hyper-vigilant about everything, the emotional distance, not wanting to upset the other partner, not wanting to burden them with your problems because you've been so used to carrying it all for so long as to not put emotional stress on your partner. And here's the part that can feel confusing or even shameful. Sometimes these struggles feel harder after success because now you're parenting, you're exhausted, you're busy, and there's this unspoken expectation that you should be grateful and move on. But unresolved grief doesn't disappear just because life moved forward. Surviving and fertility together isn't the same as healing from it. Old patterns can show up in parenthood. Communication that stays transactional, emotions that stay tucked away, resentment that pops up without a clear source. And none of that means something is wrong. It means awareness is beginning. And let me tell you, I have lived this. I have absolutely lived this. My husband and I have achieved the family that we've always, always wanted. And, you know, my daughter Lorelai, who completed our family, is going to be two years old in a few months. And if I'm being completely honest, this last year or two of our marriage has been some of the hardest times. Not because we're not happy and grateful with everything we have, but because we are starting to finally be aware of everything we carried and everything that stayed once infertility was quote unquote over. And so it's so important to know this going into it, which is why I said I think fertility treatment should come with a warning label. I know for myself, when I started IVF or even IUIs, I was like, okay, how am I gonna feel? Meaning, like, well, the shots hurt. How many blood draws do I have to have? It was like the physical part of it all. No one prepared me for miscarriages. No one prepared me for grief. No one prepared me for how to try again once I've lost babies. No one taught me how to be a good wife through grief and trauma and infertility. Nobody taught me how to support my partner through it all. And all of the things that we learned, whether it was consciously or not, to survive those years of infertility and loss, they all of a sudden became very loud to us and made us both realize something's not working. How did we get here? Right? Like, I mean, we know the things that have taken place, but how did our marriage get here? We should be taking a big sigh of relief that we have our family and the chapter of trying to build our family is complete. But it wasn't. And honestly, I think that made everything even more heightened. And we knew we had to do something about it. We knew we had to get into therapy, really dig deep separately into our own personalities and our own emotions and feelings, and together in order to be the best parents we can be, but also so we can get back to the marriage that we're proud of, get back to the relationship we had when we started on this journey to our family many years ago. So whether you're still trying, you're currently pregnant, or already parenting after infertility, your relationship deserves care. Not someday, not when things slow down, now. In fertility asks so much of couples. And I don't believe the cost should be your relationship. Otherwise, what are we doing here, right? You've essentially met somebody you loved and wanted to spend the rest of your life with, and you should nurture that at all costs, especially one going through infertility, because let's be honest, life is hard enough, even without the struggles of starting a family or experiencing loss or IVF or whatever it is, life is hard. Marriage is hard. A lot of the habits and things that we instilled wasn't just through IVF and surrogacy for us. It was being in survival mode, even through the pandemic, parenting two kids under two. So many things that we experienced were in survival mode. And I truly think a lot of millennials my age can relate to this. I mean, it's been a constant struggle, right? The world is a bit crazy, and we're all just doing our best to parent, reparent ourselves, navigate things like infertility and political climates and just be our best kind selves. And it's a lot. And on top of that, infertility just asks so much of couples. So if this episode opens something up for you, maybe your next step isn't solving anything. Maybe it's just starting a conversation. You don't have to go through infertility alone, and you don't have to sacrifice your marriage to survive it. Before you go, I want to leave you with a gentle journaling prompt. No pressure to do this perfectly, of course. Just take what resonates with you. But here are some things you might ask yourself and jot down as you think about your marriage. What coping habits did we develop during infertility that helped us survive, but might not be serving us anymore? Where do I notice distance or protection showing up in our relationship? What kind of support do I wish we had during infertility or now? For myself, answering some of these questions would kind of look like this. Um, some coping habits that my husband and I developed during infertility, which did help us survive, were things like, oh gosh. I will also tie this into the pandemic because, for a quick timeline, for those of you who aren't familiar with my story, essentially, like two years of infertility, first time I was pregnant, lost twins in my second trimester. This was 2016, 2017, started IVF, got pregnant, had my oldest son, who's about to be eight in like a month. He was born at 24 weeks, spent four months in the NICU. In 2019, did a frozen embryo transfer, end of 2019, had my middle child, Noah, who is six, and then the pandemic hit. And then we were stuck at home and dealing with, you know, a preemie who has spent the last couple years catching up in all of the therapies with a newborn by ourselves, no village, just locked down, as we all remember. Fast forward to 2021, get pregnant naturally, unexpected, earlier than we were ready to even start thinking about a third, super easy, joyful pregnancy until one weekend when we lost our daughter at 20 weeks due to placental eruption. Now we were in a pandemic with two kids under two, grieving the loss of our stillborn daughter, and also finally grieving the loss of our twins because prior to ever being parents, it hit different. Losing the twins in 2016 was like losing a dream, and losing our daughter Marin in 2021 felt like losing a child. And so at that point, it also felt like we were losing the twins all over again because we had such a different perspective of being parents of two children on earth now. So, yeah, there were a lot of coping mechanisms that we went through there. Some of those things were alcohol, for one. You know, we got into a habit of ending our days at home because that's where we were for so long, with drinks. And that didn't allow a lot. Of space for things like communicating about our feelings, talking about hard things. We kind of just numbed things to get through for the next day. And, you know, that's what we did. And even once things opened back up, that habit kind of stuck. And it took a long time for us to get out of that groove and go back to spending quality time together and talking and planning date nights and making more of an effort. But at the time, that's what helped us survive. I know it doesn't make sense. It wasn't the best coping mechanism, but it's an honest one. Some of the other habits that showed up during that time was we had some distance in our relationship. And I don't think either of us meant to be that way. But with everything going on, it was like we didn't want to burden each other with our thoughts and our problems. And so we carried them alone until we couldn't, until it just it pulled us apart. And so that wasn't serving us at the time. And the kind of support I wish we had during infertility was therapy. Therapy when we started. Therapy to help hold our hand through it all, through the unexpected, through the decisions we had to make. I mean, we dabbled. Like I went to therapy after losing the twins, but as a first-time person going to therapy, talk therapy, I was grieving and also like annoyed that I was there. I was learning ways to cope with anxiety, and I just wasn't getting out of it what I wanted. I also just think I wasn't in a space to really receive anything that I was given. So I wish I would have started therapy before everything got crazy. We also dabbled in therapy together before making the decision to do surrogacy, which I do feel like was helpful, but it wasn't consistent enough. And I just wish we had the therapy that we have now because the therapy we're in individually and together, it has been such a game changer. And it is allowing us to truly get back to the couple we were when we met. And I by that I just mean the closeness of a relationship. We, of course, have grown and changed and been through so much together, but it's allowing us to finally have these reflective conversations about everything we went through and realizing that I'm here for you and you're here for me, and we're in this together. Now we're in this parenting thing together, and it's beautiful. And the only way it can be beautiful is if we're on the same page and we're there for each other and we put our marriage first. Because that's another issue with infertility, is that it becomes like the only goal of the couple, right? Is to get pregnant. And it's important to have other dreams and aspirations and even just hobbies outside of that, because it can be all consuming. So that was my out loud journaling reflection. Sorry, it was very top of mind for me. I didn't think about this ahead of time. But I encourage you to answer those few questions, you know, just pull out a journal, write them down, maybe share them with your partner. Like I said, you don't need answers today. Awareness is honestly enough. Before we wrap up today, I just want to say this. If this episode stirred something in you, you don't have to hold it alone. This work, these conversations, this season of infertility, or life after infertility, it was never meant to be navigated in isolation. If you want to stay connected beyond this episode, there are a few really easy ways to do that. First, I'd love for you to join my email list. I share things there that don't always make it to social media, more personal reflections, resources, and updates on what's coming next. I also have some in-person and virtual events on the horizon, and the email list will be the first place I share details. You can find that linked in the show notes. And you can also find me on Instagram, where I share daily reminders, honest conversations, and some behind-the-scenes moments. I don't claim to be the best at social media, but I love that space when it's used for things like connection and community and sharing knowledge. So please join me at motherhood underscore intended. It's also linked in the show notes. If this episode resonated, feel free to send me a message there too. You can send me a DM. I really do read them, and they mean more than you know. And one more thing I want to mention: if you have a story you feel called to share or a perspective that could support someone else walking this road, I have a form linked in the show notes as well as on my Instagram, but it's a link to a form to apply to be a guest on this podcast. This show is built on real stories, real voices, and real experiences. And yours might be exactly what someone needs to hear. To be on the show, your story doesn't have to be completely written. You could be in the middle of your journey and share just what you've experienced and where you're at. Or you're also welcome to share your journey to motherhood, even if it was many years ago. I think it's all relative and it's all helpful to everybody listening who just wants to feel like they aren't in this alone. Over 10 years ago, when I first started listening to podcasts, the very first podcast I listened to was an infertility podcast. And they would often have women sharing their stories sprinkled in with doctors dropping knowledge on the show. And I just found it so reassuring hearing from other women. Granted, that was a time when, you know, infertility was not talked about as much. Loss and miscarriages was not something that was talked about. It wasn't until openly talking about it myself that so many people came out of the woodwork to share me too, or I'm in that same spot, or I've experienced this. And I just think it's truly a beautiful thing to know that you're not in any hard situation alone. So consider applying to be a guest on the show. I would love to have you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for trusting me with your time, your heart, and your story, whether you've shared it out loud or are still carrying it quietly. As always, remember you're not alone in this. Be well, and I'll talk to you again next week.

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