Don’t Stop Living “Just in Case”: When TTC Becomes Your Whole Identity

There is a kind of waiting that slowly takes over your life without asking permission.

It settles in quietly. It rearranges your priorities. And before you know it, it becomes your identity.

For many women on the TTC journey, waiting becomes more than just hope for a baby — it becomes the lens through which everything else is filtered. Every decision. Every plan. Every “yes” and every “no.”

Waiting for the baby. Waiting for the positive test. Waiting for life to finally begin.

Research shows that prolonged fertility struggles can significantly impact a woman’s sense of self. Studies have found that women experiencing infertility are more likely to experience anxiety, depression, grief, and identity confusion — particularly when motherhood is deeply tied to their sense of purpose or worth. TTC can slowly shift from something you are going through to who you believe you are.

And that’s when we begin to lose ourselves.

I know this because I lived it.

When I was younger and trying for a baby, my entire world revolved around what I didn’t yet have. I wanted a baby so badly that every decision I made was shaped around that desire — or rather, around the fear of losing the chance.

I stayed in a marriage I knew had already reached its end. Not because it was right. Not because it was loving or aligned. But because I was terrified of letting go of the possibility of a baby. I clung on to something that no longer served my soul, because hope felt safer than truth.

I declined promotions and opportunities because I was so focused on TTC. I stopped enjoying life “just in case” I fell pregnant. I didn’t travel. I didn’t plan. I didn’t enroll in study. I didn’t explore.

This is incredibly common, yet rarely spoken about.

Many women on the TTC journey unconsciously begin to restrict their lives — not because they want to, but because they are afraid to move forward without the one thing they’re waiting for. Holidays get postponed. Careers are put on hold. Relationships stay longer than they should. Life becomes a series of “after the baby.”

Psychologically, this is a form of protective behaviour. When something feels uncertain or out of our control, we try to reduce risk everywhere else. We shrink our world so the pain feels more manageable. But over time, that shrinking comes at a cost.

We lose joy. We lose spontaneity. We lose ourselves.

I was young. I had very little life experience. And I genuinely believed that putting everything on pause was the responsible thing to do.

What I didn’t realise back then is this: life doesn’t pause with you.

Over time — through loss, patience, surrender, and many rebirths — I began to see things differently.

Life wasn’t happening to me. It was happening for me.

When I finally stopped shrinking my life around waiting, everything expanded. I started new chapters I never would have allowed myself to begin before. I started a business. I changed careers. I studied. I went out. I aligned with opportunities that felt divinely guided. I grew — emotionally, spiritually, and soul-deep.

And in that growth, something else happened: my understanding of motherhood changed.

If you asked me now, “Why do you want to be a mother?”
I could give you a million reasons.

I want my DNA and my genes to continue on this earth.
I want to teach my teachings to a version of me.
I want to create something that is half me and half someone I love.
I want to be the mother I always wished I had.
I want to see my gifts passed on to a new generation.
I want to watch a part of me grow, dream, achieve — and be there to support them every step of the way.

These answers come from experience. From knowing myself. From having lived.

But if you had asked me that same question in my 20s, my answer would have been very different.

“Because that’s what you do when you’ve been with someone for a long time.”
“You reproduce.”

My answers were basic. Surface-level. And the truth is — I wasn’t ready to be a mother, even though I wanted it so badly.

I wanted it so badly because every miscarriage, every negative test, every month that passed made me feel like I was disappointing others. Like I was failing at something expected of me. Society, family, timelines — they all whispered that this was what should be happening by now.

But beneath that longing, there was something else.

What I actually wanted was to live.

I wanted to study.
To explore the world.
To experience life.
To find myself.

And yet, I put everything on hold “just in case.” But God felt my soul. God could see the things I couldn’t. Sometimes the Universe will say No to save you. And that’s exactly what the Universe did. Even though it broke my heart many times……it saved my soul in other ways. I can only see this now. That’s why some people get triggered by the phrase “Things happen for a reason”. Those people are not ready yet. But one day they will be. I was one of those people. But not now.

Now, many years later, I am choosing differently.

In April, I am travelling to Greece for a belated honeymoon. I haven’t been on a holiday in 17 years. I am going to Delphi — the sacred place where the Oracles once existed. A place I feel deeply connected to. A place that calls to something ancient within me. I want to stand on that land again and remember who I am beyond waiting.

And I have decided to pause my TTC journey so I can go.

TTC can wait.

I have waited so long already — I can wait a few more months. What I no longer want is to miss life. I kept saying, “One day I’ll travel,” but life kept happening, plans kept getting postponed, and dreams kept being delayed.

This time, I choose me.

The TTC journey teaches us so much more than patience and hope. It takes us deeper. It forces us to confront who we are without the labels we expected to have by now. It asks us to declutter what no longer serves us. To trust our intuition. To listen more closely.

Relationships change. Friendships shift. We see who is truly there for us — and who isn’t.

It makes us question everything.

But the waiting is not a punishment.
It’s an awakening.

And awakenings are not meant to be lived in stillness alone — they are meant to be lived fully.

A Message From Me to You

From one woman who has walked this path, lost herself, found herself again, and awakened more times than she can count:

Please don’t stop living “just in case.”

Your life is already happening — right now. Your joy does not delay your blessings. Your happiness does not mean you’ve given up. And living fully does not mean you’ve stopped believing. Devine timing will still occur when your time comes.

Book the trip. Say yes to the opportunity. Change careers. Study. End the relationship if it has reached its end. Begin again if your soul is asking you to.

You don’t need to make your life smaller to make space for what you’re waiting for. When the time comes, life will stretch to meet it.

In the waiting, you are still becoming.
In the waiting, you are still worthy.
In the waiting… live anyway.

Much love,

Fotini