Part 2: Series The Guilt of We’re in This Because of Me: “The Diagnosis No One Talks About”

When you first imagine starting a family, you don’t imagine sitting in a sterile doctor’s office, holding your breath while you wait to hear the words that will change everything.

But that’s exactly where I was.

I thought we’d walk in, hear a game plan, and be on our way to celebrating good news. Instead, I heard something that didn’t even feel real at first: “It looks like the fertility challenge is male factor.”

It felt like someone had hit a mute button on the world. I was still in the room, but everything around me went quiet.

The Weight I Didn’t Expect

As a man, I’ve been taught to be the protector, the provider—the one who steps in and takes care of the problem. But when you’re told that you are the problem, it hits differently.

I didn’t cry right away. I didn’t even speak. I just nodded like I was okay, but inside, I was unraveling. I felt ashamed. Less than. I kept thinking: How do I tell my wife that it’s me?

And when I did, she didn’t flinch. She didn’t blame me. She just said, “We’ll get through it together.”But that didn’t stop the voice in my own head from screaming: You failed her.

Why It Feels So Isolating

Here’s the truth: male infertility is rarely talked about—and when it is, it’s usually in whispers or with jokes. We’re conditioned to tie our masculinity to our ability to produce, to perform. And when that’s taken away, it feels like your identity takes a hit too.

There weren’t support groups or late-night blogs I could relate to at the time. I didn’t know any other men going through this. It felt like I was the only one. But I wasn’t—and neither are you.

It’s Okay to Grieve

If you’re in this moment, let me say it clearly:It’s okay to grieve.Grieve the version of fatherhood you thought would be easy. Grieve the loss of the illusion that everything was fine. Cry if you need to. Be angry. Be confused.

But don’t bottle it up and pretend you’re fine. That’s not strength—that’s survival. And survival is only the first step. Healing comes when you allow yourself to feel it, not run from it.

Don’t Carry the Shame Alone

One of the most powerful things I did was finally say the words out loud: “This is hard. And I need help.”I started asking questions. I leaned into conversations I once avoided. I saw a therapist. I talked to other men going through it. I slowly stopped hiding.

There is no shame in your diagnosis. There is no shame in needing help. There is only shame in letting silence win. And you don’t have to.

Closing Quote:"I didn’t know how to process it. I just knew I couldn’t let it define me. That day didn’t break me—it woke me up."

Up next in Part 2: “Rewriting Masculinity: From Shame to Support”Let’s talk about what strength really looks like when the world tells you to stay quiet.

Want to share your story or connect with others going through this? Head over to IVF Playbook for Men Community and join the conversation. You’re not alone.