What My 40s Taught Me About Fertility, Perimenopause, and Self-Compassion

This one’s vulnerable.

To the women in their late 30s and early 40s who are still trying to build their families—or aren’t even sure yet if they want to, but know that family building is still lingering in their hearts and minds—I feel you.

As someone who had both of my children after the age of 40, I get it—deeply. I’ve lived the complex feelings. The quiet panic. The frustration. The painful in-between of wanting and waiting and not knowing.

There’s a word for it—that particular ache of unknowing anticipation—but even if we can’t name it, we know what it feels like.

I often felt at odds with my body. Like it was separate from me—uncooperative, unpredictable, maybe even sabotaging my plans.

But here’s what changed for me—and what I want to offer to anyone in that tender in-between:

Understanding perimenopause didn’t crush my hope.

It brought me back to myself.

When I started learning about the why behind the symptoms—the intense cycles, the shifting hormones, the unpredictability—I realized something unexpected:

My body wasn’t failing. It was trying.

Yes, with age our chances are lower and things are more complicated—we’re all well aware of that. But knowing that my body was still trying helped me see it not as an obstacle, but as a deeply invested partner—one that was doing its best, on my behalf.

And in that shift, something softer emerged:
Compassion.

Compassion for my body.
Compassion for my journey.
Compassion for all the wanting, waiting, and wondering.

That compassion was just the beginning. It deepened as I began reconnecting—with myself, and with others who were quietly navigating the same tender space.

More and more, we’re finding ourselves in conversation with women who are in that uncertain middle space—deciding if they want children, considering egg freezing, or sitting with a set of frozen embryos and a hundred unanswered questions.
It’s a powerful place to be.
It’s a vulnerable place to be.
But it doesn’t have to be a lonely place to be.

This experience—navigating fertility, hormones, and identity in my 40s—is one of the biggest reasons I co-founded MID(ish). I wanted to create the kind of support I wish I’d had: grounded in science, full of compassion, and honest about the complexity of midlife.

Hope and hormone shifts can coexist.

Compassion and connection are our lifeline.

And you don’t have to navigate this alone.

Whether you’re still deciding, actively trying, or reflecting on the path that brought you here—what’s been meaningful or supportive to you in this middle space?