The Horrible Trend of Demonizing IVF: Why We Need More Compassion, Not More Shame
I want to talk about something that's been genuinely upsetting to watch unfold.
The growing trend of demonizing IVF.
Somewhere along the way, a medical treatment that has helped millions of people build families has become the subject of public judgment, misinformation, and heated debates about who should be allowed to access reproductive healthcare.
And as a biomedical engineer, a women's health educator, and someone who believes deeply in bodily autonomy, I find this incredibly concerning.
Because behind every conversation about IVF is a real person.
Someone who has spent months or years trying to conceive.
Someone who has experienced pregnancy loss.
Someone navigating an infertility diagnosis they never expected.
Someone who has undergone countless blood draws, ultrasounds, injections, and procedures, all while hoping for the chance to have a child.
And now, on top of everything they're already carrying, they're being made to feel ashamed for seeking medical help.
When did needing help to have a baby become something people felt entitled to judge?
Let's talk about it.
First, What Actually Is IVF?
IVF stands for in vitro fertilization.
It's a form of assisted reproductive technology (ART) that involves fertilizing an egg with sperm outside the body, in a laboratory.
Here's a simplified explanation of how the process works:
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Ovarian stimulation: Medications are used to encourage the ovaries to develop multiple follicles containing eggs.
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Egg retrieval: Mature eggs are collected through a medical procedure.
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Fertilization: Eggs are combined with sperm in a laboratory, sometimes using a technique called intracytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI).
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Embryo development: Fertilized eggs are monitored as they develop into embryos.
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Embryo transfer: An embryo may be transferred into the uterus, while suitable additional embryos may be frozen for future use.
Not every cycle results in viable embryos, pregnancy, or a live birth.
And not every patient follows the exact same treatment plan.
IVF is complex. It's physically demanding for many patients, emotionally exhausting, and often incredibly expensive.
It also represents decades of scientific research that have expanded reproductive possibilities for people who otherwise might not have been able to conceive.
IVF isn't some bizarre experiment. It's an established medical treatment.
Infertility Is a Medical Issue, Not a Personal Failure
One of the things that bothers me most about the way people discuss fertility treatment is the implication that needing IVF somehow means someone's body has failed.
Let's be clear about something.
Infertility is a recognized medical condition.
According to the World Health Organization, approximately 1 in 6 adults worldwide experience infertility during their lifetime.
That's a significant number of people.
And infertility can have many different causes.
Some people have conditions that affect ovulation, such as PCOS.
Others have blocked or damaged fallopian tubes, endometriosis, diminished ovarian reserve, or uterine factors.
Male-factor infertility can involve sperm count, movement, or function.
Sometimes multiple factors are involved.
And sometimes, despite extensive testing, infertility remains unexplained.
IVF can also help people who need donor eggs or sperm, people using gestational carriers, and individuals or couples whose family-building circumstances require assisted reproduction.
There is no single type of person who needs IVF.
And needing medical assistance to conceive says absolutely nothing about someone's worth, femininity, masculinity, or ability to be a loving parent.
The Problem With Calling IVF "Unnatural"
Let's talk about the word unnatural.
Because I keep seeing it used as though it's a scientific argument.
Yes, IVF involves medical intervention.
So do insulin injections.
So do pacemakers.
So do organ transplants.
We use medical technology every single day to help our bodies do things they cannot do independently, or to improve outcomes when biological processes aren't working as expected.
The fact that something requires medical assistance doesn't automatically make it wrong, harmful, or less meaningful.
And I find it especially troubling when this language is directed at people who are already navigating infertility.
A pregnancy achieved through IVF is still a pregnancy.
A baby born through IVF is still a baby.
And a family created with the help of reproductive technology is still a family.
The way a child was conceived does not determine the value of that child's life.
Let's Address the Embryo Conversation
One of the most controversial aspects of IVF involves embryos.
And I think it's important to discuss this with both scientific accuracy and respect for the fact that people have deeply held ethical, philosophical, and religious beliefs about when human life begins.
During IVF, multiple eggs may be retrieved and fertilized. Some embryos stop developing, some may be unsuitable for transfer, and others may be frozen for future use.
Patients may eventually face decisions about remaining frozen embryos, including continued storage, donation, or disposition according to applicable laws and clinic policies.
These decisions can be deeply personal and emotionally difficult.
There are legitimate ethical questions surrounding embryo creation, storage, testing, donation, and disposition.
People can have thoughtful disagreements about those questions.
But there's a difference between having an ethical conversation and using inflammatory language to shame people undergoing fertility treatment.
We can discuss the moral complexities of reproductive technology without portraying patients as selfish, irresponsible, or less deserving of compassion.
Ethical conversations should never require us to abandon empathy.
IVF Is Not a Guaranteed Baby
Another thing that gets lost in these conversations is how difficult IVF can actually be.
Social media sometimes makes it seem like IVF is a straightforward process:
You go to a clinic, undergo a procedure, and have a baby.
But that's not how it works.
IVF success depends on several factors, including age, the cause of infertility, egg and sperm factors, embryo development, and medical history.
Some patients achieve pregnancy after one cycle.
Others undergo multiple retrievals or transfers.
Some experience miscarriages.
And some never achieve the outcome they hoped for, despite extensive treatment.
There are also medical risks, including ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome, complications from egg retrieval, and risks associated with multiple pregnancies.
IVF requires informed consent, individualized medical care, and realistic counseling about outcomes.
And then there's the emotional side.
Imagine going through weeks of injections and monitoring appointments, only to learn that none of your embryos developed as expected.
Imagine getting a negative pregnancy test after spending thousands of dollars and months preparing for a transfer.
Imagine feeling hopeful and terrified at the same time because you know how much is at stake.
Now imagine opening social media and seeing strangers call your treatment immoral or your future child unnatural.
That's the part I wish more people would think about.
The Pressure to "Just Fix Your Hormones Naturally"
As someone who works in the wellness space, I also want to address something that I see far too often.
The idea that people struggling with infertility simply haven't tried hard enough to heal their bodies naturally.
I've seen messages suggesting that infertility can always be resolved by balancing hormones, taking supplements, reducing stress, or following a specific diet.
And I need us to be very careful with this narrative.
Yes, nutrition, metabolic health, sleep, and certain lifestyle factors can influence reproductive health.
Yes, some underlying conditions benefit from medical or lifestyle management.
And yes, preconception health is important.
But not every cause of infertility can be corrected through lifestyle changes.
A supplement cannot reopen severely damaged fallopian tubes.
Meditation cannot reverse every cause of diminished ovarian reserve.
And telling someone to "just relax" is not an evidence-based treatment for infertility.
There is a difference between supporting reproductive health and promising that someone can naturally overcome every fertility challenge.
That distinction matters.
I love talking about nutrition, the microbiome, and preventive healthcare.
But I will never support using wellness language to make someone feel responsible for a medical condition they did not choose.
You can prioritize holistic wellness and still need medical treatment. Those things are not mutually exclusive.
Why IVF Stigma Can Be So Harmful
When we shame people for seeking fertility treatment, the consequences can extend beyond hurt feelings.
Stigma can make people less comfortable discussing infertility with friends, family, or healthcare professionals.
It can increase feelings of isolation.
It can make someone question whether they deserve support.
And it can reinforce the idea that infertility is something to hide.
For many people, fertility treatment already involves enormous emotional and financial stress.
Adding public judgment doesn't make anyone healthier.
It doesn't improve medical outcomes.
And it certainly doesn't make reproductive healthcare more compassionate.
I also think we need to recognize that fertility treatment isn't equally accessible.
IVF can cost thousands of dollars per cycle, and insurance coverage varies significantly.
Geography, financial resources, medical conditions, and local laws can all affect access.
When conversations about IVF become more stigmatizing, we risk making an already difficult healthcare journey feel even more isolating.
You Don't Have to Choose IVF to Respect Someone Who Does
This is something I really want to emphasize.
You do not have to personally want IVF.
You do not have to believe it's the right option for your own family.
You can have ethical or religious concerns about particular aspects of assisted reproduction.
And you can make reproductive decisions that align with your own values.
But none of that requires you to shame someone who makes a different decision.
Respecting another person's healthcare choices does not mean you have to make those same choices yourself.
I think we've lost sight of that distinction in a lot of reproductive health conversations.
It's possible to have personal convictions while still recognizing the humanity of people whose experiences differ from yours.
And when we're talking about something as vulnerable as infertility, that compassion matters more than ever.
We Need Better Fertility Education, Not More Fear
If we're going to have serious conversations about IVF, let's make sure people actually understand what they're discussing.
Let's talk about how fertility changes with age without frightening women into thinking their reproductive lives have an expiration date.
Let's talk about male-factor infertility instead of placing all the responsibility on women.
Let's talk about the limitations of fertility testing and why no single hormone result can predict someone's ability to conceive.
Let's talk about the risks, benefits, costs, and emotional realities of IVF.
Let's talk about alternatives, including other fertility treatments, donor-assisted reproduction, and choosing not to pursue treatment.
And let's make space for people who are child-free, whether by choice or circumstance.
Because reproductive education should help people make informed decisions.
It should not pressure them into one particular path.
My Final Thoughts
I believe science and compassion belong in the same conversation.
IVF is not a perfect technology.
It raises important medical and ethical questions.
It can be expensive, physically demanding, and emotionally complicated.
But it has also helped millions of people build families.
And I refuse to believe that the appropriate response to someone navigating infertility is shame.
You don't know what someone has been through to get to that fertility clinic.
You don't know how many pregnancy tests they've taken.
How many losses they've experienced.
How many appointments they've attended.
How many nights they've spent wondering whether they'll ever become a parent.
So before we turn IVF into another social media argument, I think we need to remember the people at the center of it.
Infertility is not a moral failure.
Seeking medical help is not something to be ashamed of.
And a child conceived through IVF is no less loved, wanted, or valuable than any other child.
We need less judgment.
More education.
And a whole lot more compassion.
Love,
Giana š
Biomedical Engineer, Women's Health Educator & Founder of With Meraki Co.
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