Infertility Then and Now: What a Difference Two Decades Make

From bed rest and baby dust to science, sanity, and self-compassion

When I started my infertility journey back in the early 2000s, the industry felt more like a secret society than a science. It was all whispers in waiting rooms, whispered prayers over Clomid, and bulletin boards filled with baby dust emojis.

The internet was young, the support groups were clunky, and every conversation came with the faint hum of shame. You didn’t talk about it at work. You didn’t even talk about it with some family members. And if you did mention it, people replied with a casserole and a Hallmark platitude about “God’s timing.”

Fast forward twenty years, and the infertility landscape looks almost unrecognizable — in the best way possible.

Then: Bed Rest and Blind Faith

In 2005, after an IVF transfer, my doctor told me to lie perfectly still — no stairs, no lifting, and certainly no workouts. “Your embryo needs peace,” they said, as if it were a finicky houseguest. I took that advice seriously. I remember lying flat on my back staring at the ceiling fan, terrified that one sneeze might undo everything.

Today, reproductive endocrinologists have learned that gentle movement after transfer can actually help blood flow and implantation. Bed rest is officially out, and science has replaced superstition.

But back then? We were told to be delicate, fragile, and borderline helpless — as if willpower alone could dictate biology.

Then: Guesswork and Gut Instincts

The technology was primitive by today’s standards. Fertility tracking involved basal thermometers and color-coded charts. Hormone monitoring was… approximate. And don’t even get me started on “unexplained infertility.” That phrase was a scarlet letter — medical shorthand for we have no idea why this isn’t working, but keep paying us anyway.

Now, clinics run comprehensive genetic panels, preimplantation genetic testing (PGT), and individualized hormone protocols. Data and personalization have replaced the “let’s try this and see” approach that so many of us endured.

Then: Stigma

The emotional isolation was brutal. No one was posting IVF journeys on Instagram or sharing embryo updates in real time. I was juggling injections, doctor’s appointments, and hope — all while pretending everything was fine at work. I was exhausted, scared, and lonely.

Today, women and men speak openly about infertility. There are podcasts, books, TikTok accounts, and entire communities dedicated to lifting the veil. We’ve traded secrecy for solidarity — and that’s progress worth celebrating.

Now: Science Meets Self-Compassion

I look at the next generation of women going through IVF and I’m both proud and protective. They have better medicine, better information, and better boundaries. But the biggest change isn’t technological — it’s emotional.

We finally understand that infertility isn’t just a medical condition. It’s a whole-body, whole-heart experience.

And that means taking care of yourself — mentally, emotionally, spiritually — is as important as the science itself.

Back then, I thought strength meant pushing through in silence. Now, I know true strength is letting yourself be seen — needles, tears, hope, and all.

Takeaway: Infertility may still be hard, but it’s no longer hidden. And that, to me, is the greatest evolution of all.