People often ask what drew me into working in the fertility industry, and my answer is pretty simple: I struggled with infertility. Before knowing that infertility was part of my story, I had no idea an entire field existed that focused on reproductive mental health, a space dedicated to supporting emotional resilience through fertility challenges, pregnancy loss, assisted reproductive technology (ART), and family building.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a mom. I remember dressing my dolls and imagining the outfits I would put on my son and daughter, how I would take my children on adventures, and play with them for hours. I was an incredible doll mom and stuffed-animal mom, so I was confident I would one day be an even cooler real mom. Becoming a mother was one of my biggest dreams.
I’ve always been faithful about my annual medical appointments, especially with my OB/GYN. Throughout all of those years, before my fibroids, after my first fibroid surgery, not one doctor spoke to me about my fertility, my reproductive timeline, or what I needed to understand as a black woman navigating reproductive health. The closest conversation I received was,
“Do you want kids?” or “What are you waiting for to have children?”
My response was always the same: “I’m not ready yet.”
And the conversation usually ended there.
Everything changed when I met Dr. Goldberg in 2014. My fibroids had returned, and one of my girlfriends referred me to her amazing OB/GYN. During one of our appointments, he asked if I planned to have children in the future. I said, “Yes, absolutely.” He responded with the first real reproductive-health conversation anyone had ever had with me. He explained the reproductive lifespan, age-related fertility changes, and what to consider if I planned to have children. There was no judgment in his tone, no pressure. He educated me with care, clarity, and genuine respect for my goals.
After my second myomectomy, I began to consider my conversation with Dr. Goldberg seriously and started thinking deeply about my future family. I was a psychologist; I had financial security, so nothing was keeping me from taking the step to parenthood. Other than fibroids, I had always been healthy, and I had friends who conceived after more than one myomectomy, so I trusted my body. I had no awareness of the statistics that show how black women experience infertility at higher rates and often go longer without receiving evaluation or referral. Fertility education rarely shows up for black women unless they actively seek it, and at that time, fertility conversations did not exist in my circles or in my family.
Once I recovered from surgery, I began my fertility journey. My initial tests were clear. I felt hopeful. But after multiple attempts and multiple miscarriages, my reproductive endocrinologist explained to me that my infertility fell into the category of unexplained infertility.
I remember wishing that earlier providers had talked to me about the realities of fertility, especially for black women, to offer preparation, grounded knowledge, and real options. Awareness does not always change outcomes, because many young women also struggle with infertility, yet early information creates space for choices, options, and time.
How Black Women’s Maternal Health Realities Show Up in Our Fertility Journeys
My personal story reflects broader realities that many black women face when trying to conceive or maintain a healthy pregnancy. Several key factors influence the experience of black women across fertility and maternal healthcare:
1. Delayed Referral and Limited Early Evaluation
For years, none of my doctors connected my fibroids, my age, or my symptoms to fertility. This is a common experience for black women: being reassured instead of referred, monitored instead of evaluated. Many black women don’t receive fertility testing until later, often after multiple losses or months (even years) of trying. Early testing helps individuals and couples make informed decisions about timing, options, and next steps.
2. Implicit Bias in Healthcare
Bias can look like assumptions that we are “fine,” “strong,” “young enough,” or “can wait.” It can look like the absence of the conversations we need to make informed decisions. My doctors minimizing and not discussing the importance of my fertility timeline was likely not intentional. Still, it reflects a system that historically often overlooks black women’s reproductive needs and offers black women limited space for reproductive conversations.
3. Cultural Narratives Shape How Black Women Experience Fertility
Many of us inherit messages that tell us to “push through,” “wait for the right time,” or “not worry until there’s something to worry about.” Across many black families and communities, strength often becomes a way of life. We learn to carry a great deal quietly. Fertility and miscarriage are rarely discussed openly, which limits opportunities for young women to learn or ask questions.
4. Fertility Myths Delay Awareness and Action
There’s a misconception that infertility is rare among black women or is only tied to getting older. Many black women grow up hearing versions of “We have strong fertility” or “When you’re ready, it will happen.” These messages create comfort, yet they also reduce awareness of the full range of reproductive possibilities. These myths can delay education, support, and care. I had no reason to believe infertility could be part of my story, because I never heard anyone speak about it openly.
5. Lack of Knowledge About Fertility Options and Reproductive Timelines
Many people receive foundational fertility education only when they arrive in a fertility clinic. Earlier conversations about reproductive aging, fibroids, genetic testing, egg freezing, treatment options, and timelines would support more informed decision-making.
These factors deeply shape maternal and reproductive health outcomes for black women, including fertility journeys, pregnancy care, postpartum experiences, and emotional well-being.
If Dr. Goldberg hadn’t gently opened the door, I may never have considered the timing of trying to conceive. I wish earlier doctors had said:
“Here’s what we know about fertility and reproductive aging.”
“Here’s what the data shows about black women and fibroids.”
“Here are your options if you want kids later.”
Knowledge empowers black women with agency, agency that should come early in our reproductive journeys, not after challenges arise.
Reproductive Mental Health Support Is Essential
My own fertility journey opened my eyes to how overwhelming each step can feel and the emotional layers that individuals and couples navigate when balancing cultural expectations, family hopes, medical decisions, finances, and the weight of losses. It made clear how often healthcare systems ignore and fail to meet black women’s needs. My REI introduced me to reproductive mental health, and the moment I learned this field existed, something inside me shifted, changed, and it shaped the work I do today:
- Supporting individuals and couples through the emotional weight of infertility, pregnancy loss, and ART.
- Offering clear, compassionate education about fertility timelines, reproductive options, and the realities that shape people’s choices.
- Providing culturally grounded care for black women, women of color, and birthing people who deserve spaces where their experiences are believed and understood.
- Partnering with fertility clinics, agencies, and reproductive endocrinologists to ensure patients receive whole-person, integrated care.
Knowledge Empowers Agency and Informed Choices
Infertility is not a character flaw or a failure. It is a medical condition that sits at the intersection of race, gender, history, and access to care. It reflects strength, resilience, and the courage it takes to seek answers and support. Black women deserve early, honest conversations, clear information, and culturally responsive care throughout their fertility and maternal health journeys.
Moving Forward With Awareness, Advocacy, and Empowerment
My hope in sharing my story is to broaden the conversation beyond medical appointments and clinical settings and into the spaces where real life happens. Too often, people navigate infertility, loss, or complicated reproductive decisions without the information, support, or validation they need. Everyone benefits when we speak openly about these experiences, name the gaps in care, and create space for people to be informed and held with compassion.
Reproductive mental health is how I educate, advocate, and walk alongside people as they build the futures they envision, grounded in hope, courage, and a deep sense of agency.
If you’re navigating this journey or supporting someone who is, you don’t have to do it in silence or confusion. Reach out, ask questions, start the conversation, and allow yourself to be supported. Your story deserves care, your voice deserves space, and your path forward deserves partnership.
I am a fertility psychologist in California and Maryland and offer complimentary 15-minute initial consultations. If you are a woman, birthing person, or couple seeking infertility counseling, you may click here to schedule an appointment.