Confessions I’ve Never Said Out Loud: Infertility Rage

by Linda Wood on Jan 04, 2026 0 comments

Trigger Warning

This piece contains discussion of infertility, pregnancy loss, addiction, abortion and intrusive or judgemental thoughts that can arise from grief and trauma.
It is written from a place of honesty, not advocacy or judgement.
Please read with care, or step away if this content may be distressing for you.

Confessions I’ve Never Said Out Loud:

These are the thoughts I swallow.
The ones I edit before they ever reach daylight.
The ones I’m afraid would make people recoil if they knew.

But silence doesn’t make them disappear.
It just makes them heavier.

I’ve judged people I believed didn’t deserve to be parents

I’ve watched people complain about their children — loudly, constantly — and felt rage burn in my chest.

I’ve seen neglect.
Impatience.
Disinterest.
Cruelty disguised as “jokes.”

One moment remains etched in my memory, as vivid now as it was then. I was walking back to work after my first embryo transfer, on my lunch break, when a woman passed me — clearly battling serious addiction — pushing a pram. Inside lay a newborn, impossibly small, with a nasogastric tube taped to their delicate face.

I couldn’t hide my expression. And the thought that slammed into me was immediate, unfiltered, and shocking in its intensity:

How fucking dare you...

It was raw. Instant. Completely unfiltered. There was no compassion in that moment — only fury.

How do you deserve to be a mother....

The shame came almost immediately afterward. But the thought itself? It didn’t disappear.

I've felt disgusted by other peoples choices

I’d hear about people taking the morning-after pill casually, or having multiple abortions, and something twisted in my chest — not because I don’t believe in choice, but because I was drowning in want.

I'd look around and see:

Parents who never wanted children.
Parents who resented them.
Parents who seemed careless or absent.

I didn’t think I was better. I thought I was desperate.

I built a version of myself as a parent in my head — and compared it to what I saw. It didn’t make me feel superior. It made me feel robbed.

I’ve felt anger towards others

Pregnant women smoking.
Drinking.
Complaining about stretch marks.
Calling their pregnancy “an accident.”

Each careless comment felt like salt in an open wound.

I wanted them to understand the weight of what they held —
but they never asked to carry my grief.

I’ve been furious at people who didn’t “try” and still succeeded

People who forgot pills.
People who “weren’t even trying yet.”
People who conceived while actively avoiding it.

I smiled whilst my insides screamed,
It's just not fair...

I’ve felt relieved when I heard about other people’s struggles

Not because I wanted them to suffer —
but because for one moment, the universe felt less unfair. That I wasn't the only one.

That relief came with immediate shame.

The truth beneath the judgement

I later realised that my judgements and thoughts were something else entirely. They were:

Unused love
Powerlessness
Watching life ignore effort
Carrying grief with no witness

Infertility doesn’t just take children.
It takes moral certainty.

And here’s the confession beneath it all

I didn’t want someone else to lose.
I just wanted it to be my turn.

I am not a bad person.
I am not cruel.
I am not unfit because my mind went places my heart never wanted to go.

I was trying to survive something profoundly unjust.

Thoughts borne from pain are not the same as beliefs.

If This Feels Heavy

Reading or reflecting on these confessions can stir up powerful emotions — grief, anger, guilt, or shame. That is a natural response. You are not alone, and it’s okay to feel what you feel. If you need support or someone to talk to, consider reaching out to: