Infertility is one of the loneliest journeys you’ll ever walk.

In the beginning, there’s so much interest – so much hope held for you. Friends check in. Family asks gently. But slowly, inevitably, it fades. The messages become sparse, then stop entirely.

At first, this filled me with sadness. Then understanding. I mean, who wants to carry someone else’s heartbreak? Constantly. Relentlessly. Day in and day out.

Infertility makes you both the most hopeful and the most defeated version of yourself – sometimes in the same day.

There are mornings when hope burns bright, when you catch yourself smiling at a future that feels almost within reach. And then, in an instant, you remember. The failures. The losses. The crushing weight of “why not me?”

You’ve tried it all. Relaxing (impossible when your mind won’t stop). Acupuncture. Fertility yoga. Pomegranate juice by the litre. Brazil nuts. McD’s fries after transfer. Lucky socks.

Avoiding stress while going through the most stressful thing imaginable. Every supplement, every wives’ tale, every “this worked for my friend.” But nothing has worked. And somewhere along the way, your circle got smaller.

I get this. I feel this – in my bones, in my heart.

WTF is a safe space for you. For us. Because I’m still on this journey too, and I know how hard it is. How lonely. How endless it can feel.

I wanted to create something I wished I’d had: a hub of real information, honest experience, and quiet solidarity. The communities on social media are lifelines – I know that. But sometimes you need more than a fleeting reel. You need answers. You need someone who’s been there, who’s still there, to say: I see you. You’re not alone.

Mandy