As someone who has gone through IVF, I genuinely am happy when it works for other people.

I know how much goes into it—the emotional toll, the physical exhaustion, everything it takes just to get to that point.

But just like hearing someone got pregnant naturally and feeling that quiet ache…it happens when someone has success with IVF too.

And that’s the part that feels hard to explain.

I keep coming back to the same feeling—being happy and grieving at the same time.

Because it feels… abnormal.

Especially when it’s someone who went through IVF.

All of the thoughts start creeping in.

How were our situations different?
Low egg reserve? Age? Financial stability?

It worked for them. Now they have a baby.

So what went wrong with my journey?
What’s wrong with my body?

And even when you know those thoughts aren’t helpful…
they don’t just go away.

They show up at random times.
In moments you’re not expecting.

I was recently at a doctor’s appointment with my mom, and somehow infertility came up. The PA told me she was going through treatment and asked where I went, what my experience was like.

And I remember wishing I had a better story for her.

She’s young, and I truly hope she has a different outcome than I did.

When we were leaving, she thanked me for sharing. I told her good luck—and I meant it.

But it stuck with me.

Because it brought up that familiar thought…
If only I could start over.

Maybe we would have done something differently.
Maybe a different protocol.
Maybe it would have worked.

And it’s not as simple as turning those thoughts off.

They come back.
More often than you’d expect.

These are the moments people don’t really talk about.

The ones that don’t always feel safe to say out loud.

The ones that make you question yourself.

Does this make me a bad person?

Here’s the reality check—

It’s not about the other person’s success.

It’s about what it represents.

Hope.

Seeing something work for someone else… and realizing it hasn’t worked for you.

The timeline you thought you might be on… happening for someone else.

Wanting something so badly… and realizing you’re still standing on the outside of it.

Proof that it’s possible—just not for you.

And that quiet question that lingers:
Why not me?

It’s not that I’m not happy for them.

I am.

It’s just that I wish I was there too. And maybe that’s just part of this—learning how to hold joy for someone else…while still carrying your own grief.