The Waiting Walk
The Waiting Walk — This podcast is about opening the pages of real fertility journeys — raw, honest, and hopeful. Each episode feels like a diary read out loud, where we walk gently together through the waiting season.
Plus, you’ll hear the voices of other women, opening up about their own waiting walks.
Until next time-breathe, walk gently, and hold onto hope. 💛
The Waiting Walk
Diary Entry Seven: When Hope and Heartbreak Hold Hands
In this episode of The Waiting Walk: My IUI Journey, I share the emotional rollercoaster of what was supposed to be a hopeful delay… that turned into the start of my third IUI cycle.
From the quiet heartbreak in the bathroom, to the unspoken comfort of my husband's arms, to late-night cookies under Christmas lights — this episode is a reflection on grief, growth, and showing up for yourself even when it’s hard.
If you've ever felt like your hope and heartbreak are holding hands — this episode is for you.
Until next time-breathe, walk gently, and hold onto hope.
Hey, welcome back to the waiting walk. Today's episode is called When Hope and Heartbreak Hold Hands. Sometimes the day starts with hope and ends with heartbreak. And somehow both feelings still live in the same breath. This is one of those days. This cycle didn't come in the morning like usual. And that small delay, it gave my husband and me this quiet, glowing hope that maybe, just maybe, this was it. Maybe we wouldn't have to do another round of IUI. Maybe we were finally pregnant. So I called Boston IVF that afternoon. They scheduled a pregnancy test for Friday. But before I got off the phone, the nurse said, if your cycle comes before then, just give us a call. And we'll switch gears. Start over with blood work and ultrasounds. I heard her, but I hoped I wouldn't need to call back. I hoped this time was different. We hoped. But that night, right before bed, it came. My cycle came. I sat there in the bathroom. At first I tried not to cry. I tried to be strong. I told myself, just get through the motions. But the tears came anyway. Not a sobbing kind of cry, but a quiet, controlled one. The kind where you wipe your face and pull yourself together. Because you know you still have to walk out that door and speak the truth out loud. I walked to the living room. My husband was sitting there, and I said the words. And without any questions, without any words, he just opened his arms. And I sat on his lap and I cried again. He held me tight, rubbing my back in silence. It was like our hearts had nothing left to say, but everything to feel. Later I called Mary Jane. I needed her. She came over and the three of us sat outside. Some moments were filled with silence. Some moments we watched fireflies dance in the dark. The birds were so vocal that night. And I remember asking out loud, why is God not allowing me to get pregnant? My husband and I just looked at each other. We didn't have the answer. But I just needed to ask it. Eventually, Mary Jane left and we went inside. I grabbed all the chocolate chip cookies we had in the house and walked upstairs. I turned on the Christmas lights we keep up all year because honestly, they make me feel safe. They make me feel like something magical is still possible. My husband and I curled up together. We turned on criminal minds. I ate all the cookies. And then I kissed him good night. But before I fell asleep, I told my husband, even though my cycle came, I'm still going to continue walking this journey with intention. I've been cutting out alcohol. Yes, for the sake of fertility, but because I want to feel present and strong. I'll make exceptions for special occasions, sure. But even in the hard weeks like this one, I want to keep showing up for myself. So Mary Jane is going on a vacation. And I know that means more moments where it's just me facing my old patterns, the comforts I used to turn to. And reminding myself that I can change even when it's hard, especially when it's hard. So here I am, heading into round three of IUI. We go back Friday. And this time, this time will be the last. Not just emotionally, but medically too. Our insurance requires three rounds of IUI before we can move forward with IVF. So this is it. Round three. Cheers to our final round of IUI. Cheers to continuing to work on myself. And cheers. Hopefully, to bringing our long-awaited bundle of joy into the world very, very soon. Some days on this journey are bright with belief, and others are with grief. And somehow we hold them both. To anyone else walking this waiting walk, you are not alone. You are not too hopeful. You are not too emotional. You are simply human. And that's enough. You are enough. Until next time, breathe, walk gently, and hold on to hope. This is the waiting walk.