Why You Can’t Sit Still, Even When You’re “Safe”

You know what I struggled with most on my fertility journey?

The wait.

Not the injections. Not the blood tests. Not even the disappointment (although yep, that sucked too). It was the stillness. The nothingness. The freaking two week wait — that strange space where there’s nothing left to do but hope… and maybe pray if that’s your thing.

But my brain? She wasn’t having it.

Instead of sitting in the pause, I was cataloguing every moment of the cycle. Every supplement I took (or forgot to). Every meal, every feeling, every potential misstep. My mind was busy preparing for the next cycle — just in case this one didn’t work.

I thought I was being smart. Responsible. Proactive.
But really? I just couldn’t sit still. I didn’t feel safe in the silence.

Why Good News Doesn’t Always Feel Good

Here’s something most people don’t understand about IVF or infertility: when you’ve been living in survival mode for long enough, your body forgets how to feel safe.

So even when something good happens — like a positive scan, or a great follicle count, or finally getting that long-awaited embryo to day five — you don’t celebrate. You don’t exhale. You brace for impact. You look for what could go wrong next.

You might even find your brain making up new problems, just so it has something to fix. That low hum of anxiety needs somewhere to go, and it’s gotten used to always being on.

If you’ve ever found yourself spiralling after a “win,” this is why. Your nervous system doesn’t know the war is over — or even paused — so it keeps the armour on.

You’re Not Broken. You’re Wired for Survival.

Here’s what’s happening behind the scenes (no neuroscience degree required). Your nervous system has two key branches:

• The sympathetic system — the one responsible for fight, flight, and freeze. Think high-alert, hypervigilant, cortisol-fueled action.
• The parasympathetic system — the one that lets you rest, digest, feel safe, and calm (and reproduce).

Ideally, they work like a seesaw: when one is on, the other’s off. But when you’ve experienced prolonged stress or trauma — and yes, IVF counts — your nervous system can glitch. The seesaw gets stuck. You end up in a state where both systems are active at once.

This is that “tired but wired” feeling. Your body is exhausted, but your brain keeps scanning for danger. You long to rest, but sitting still feels agitating. You want calm, but silence feels threatening.

This is why, even when there’s nothing left to do, your mind keeps doing.

Stillness Can Feel Like a Threat (Even When It’s Not)

If you’re a Type A, get-shit-done kind of woman (🙋‍♀️), chances are you’ve been rewarded your whole life for pushing through. Being productive. Staying in control. So when someone tells you to “just relax” or “try meditation,” it feels… laughable. Or honestly, kind of infuriating.

Even the idea of sitting still can feel terrifying. Not because you don’t want peace, but because in the quiet, your thoughts get louder. That’s where the fear, doubt, grief, and catastrophising live.

But here’s what I want you to know: stillness doesn’t mean clearing your mind or becoming a Zen monk. That’s not the goal here. It’s about learning to feel just a little safer without constant noise or distraction. It’s practicing moments of quiet that don’t feel like a threat.

Stillness can look like:

• Going for a walk without music or a podcast.
• Sitting on the couch for 60 seconds and actually breathing.
• Putting your hand on your chest and saying, “I’m allowed to feel safe right now.”
• Noticing the urge to fix something and choosing not to follow it.

You don’t have to do it for 20 minutes. Start with 20 seconds. Even recognising that stillness feels hard is a powerful start.

Your Body Can Learn a New Way

You don’t need to earn your rest.
You don’t need to wait until the outcome is certain to feel peace.
You don’t have to deserve stillness — you’re already allowed to have it.

Your nervous system might not be there yet. That’s okay. It’s been through a lot. It’s trying to keep you safe in the only way it knows how — by staying alert, scanning for danger, preparing for the worst.

But over time, with gentleness and consistency (yes, even in tiny moments), your body can learn something new. That stillness isn’t dangerous. That joy doesn’t mean the fall will hurt more. That safety is something you can create, even when the future is unknown.

Because the truth is, you deserve to feel safe — even when you’re waiting.
You deserve to feel proud — even if you’re still in progress.
You deserve to feel enough — even in the mess.

And if you’re not ready to believe that yet, that’s okay too. This is a practice, not a performance. One tiny moment of slowness at a time.

We’re not just surviving the wait.
We’re learning how to live in it.