The language we use about our health can shape how we see ourselves, especially when navigating fertility challenges.
There are certain words that seem to become part of our vocabulary when we’re dealing with a health condition. Sometimes we don’t even notice them.
“I’m infertile.”
“I’m obese.”
“My body failed me.”
“I’m a poor responder.”
“My embryos were abnormal.”
If you’ve ever found yourself using language like this, you’re certainly not alone. Medical terminology has a way of making its way into our everyday conversations, and eventually, into how we think about ourselves.
But here’s something worth considering: Having a diagnosis is not the same as being defined by it.
And that small distinction can make a meaningful difference.
The Person Before the Diagnosis
In healthcare, there’s a growing emphasis on something called people-first language. The concept is simple: when possible, we describe a person as having or experiencing a condition rather than using the condition as a label.
For example, instead of saying someone is “obese,” we might say they are “living with obesity.” Rather than describing a woman as “infertile,” we might say she is “experiencing infertility.”
Why does this matter?
Because infertility is something you may be experiencing. It is not who you are. The same is true of obesity, diabetes, PMOS (formerly PCOS), endometriosis, or any number of other conditions that may affect reproductive health.
These diagnoses may influence your health, your treatment options, and sometimes even your day-to-day decisions. But they don’t encompass the entirety of who you are.
You are still a partner, friend, daughter, sister, professional, athlete, artist, or whatever else makes you uniquely you.
Your diagnosis is part of your medical history. It is not your identity.
When Medical Language Becomes Personal
Fertility treatment introduces patients to an entirely new vocabulary, and not all of it feels particularly kind.
Poor ovarian responder. Failed cycle. Failed implantation. Incompetent cervix. Advanced maternal age. Abnormal embryos.
These terms may have specific clinical meanings, but when you’re the person hearing them, they can feel remarkably personal.
Consider the phrase “failed IVF cycle.”
It’s commonly used in reproductive medicine, and most of us understand what it means. But for someone who has invested time, money, physical effort, and emotional energy into treatment, hearing the word failure can carry an additional message—even when none was intended.
I failed. My body failed. I couldn’t do what I was supposed to do.
But you didn’t fail.
The treatment did not result in the outcome everyone was hoping for. That’s an important distinction.
Similarly, being described as a “poor responder” refers to how the ovaries respond to stimulation medication. It is not a reflection of how well you tried, whether you followed instructions, or anything you did or didn’t do.
Sometimes simply reframing the terminology can create a little distance between the medical event and the person experiencing it.
Instead of “I failed IVF,” perhaps:
“My IVF cycle did not result in a pregnancy.”
Instead of “I’m infertile”:
“I’m experiencing infertility.”
Instead of “My body isn’t working”:
“My body is facing a reproductive health challenge.”
These alternatives don’t minimize the disappointment or make a difficult situation disappear. They simply remove the implication that the diagnosis or outcome is a personal shortcoming.
The Weight of Words
Language surrounding weight deserves particular attention, especially because weight and metabolic health often become part of fertility discussions.
For people living with obesity, medical appointments can sometimes feel as though every concern eventually comes back to weight.
The Obesity Action Coalition encourages the use of people-first language, such as “person living with obesity” rather than “obese person,” to help reduce the tendency to define individuals by body size.
This isn’t about avoiding important medical conversations. Weight and metabolic health can be relevant to reproductive health, and patients deserve accurate, evidence-based information.
It’s about how those conversations happen.
There’s a difference between:
“You need to lose weight before treatment.”
And:
“Would it be okay if we talked about how metabolic health may affect your treatment options and what support might be helpful?”
Both may lead to a discussion about weight, but the second invites collaboration rather than making assumptions about the person.
Patients deserve to understand their health without feeling that their body is being judged.
The Labels We Give Ourselves
While healthcare professionals have a responsibility to communicate thoughtfully, it’s also worth paying attention to the language we use in our own internal conversations.
Think about how often a disappointing outcome becomes a statement about who we are.
“I’m a failure.”
“My body is broken.”
“I can’t do anything right.”
“I’m never going to get pregnant.”
When we’re overwhelmed, these thoughts can feel like facts rather than interpretations of a difficult experience.
One strategy borrowed from Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) is to create a little distance between ourselves and our thoughts. Rather than trying to force positive thinking or convince ourselves that everything will work out, we can simply recognize a thought for what it is.
For example, instead of saying:
“My body has failed me.”
Try:
“I’m having the thought that my body has failed me.”
It may sound like an insignificant change, but adding those few words can help us recognize that a thought, however powerful, is not necessarily a fact.
You can acknowledge that you’re disappointed, angry, exhausted, or frightened without allowing those feelings to become a permanent description of yourself.
And you don’t have to love your body every day to recognize that it deserves compassion.
It’s Okay to Ask for Different Language
If a term your healthcare provider uses makes you uncomfortable, it’s perfectly reasonable to say something.
You might ask:
“Could you explain what that means without using the word failure?”
Or:
“I understand that poor responder is a medical term, but could we describe it differently?”
You can also ask for clarification when terminology feels judgmental or confusing.
The goal isn’t to eliminate medical terminology. Accurate communication is essential, and some clinical terms have established meanings that are important for treatment decisions.
The goal is to create a conversation in which you feel like a participant in your care rather than a collection of diagnoses, laboratory results, and treatment outcomes.
It’s also worth remembering that people have different language preferences. Some individuals are comfortable identifying themselves by a diagnosis or characteristic, while others prefer people-first terminology. Neither preference needs to be imposed on everyone.
What matters is having the opportunity to be heard.
A Small Change Worth Practicing
The next time you find yourself describing your fertility journey, your body, or a medical condition, pay attention to the words you choose.
Ask yourself:
Am I describing something I’m experiencing, or am I allowing it to define who I am?
You don’t have to monitor every word or correct every negative thought. And you certainly don’t need another thing to feel you’re doing incorrectly while navigating fertility treatment.
But perhaps you can begin by offering yourself the same kindness you would extend to someone you love.
If a friend told you that her IVF cycle hadn’t resulted in a pregnancy, would you tell her she failed?
Probably not.
You would recognize that she experienced a disappointing outcome, that she may be hurting, and that she deserves compassion.
You deserve that same consideration.
Your diagnosis describes something about your health. It does not define your worth, your identity, or the person you are beyond it.
And sometimes, changing the way we speak about ourselves is a small but meaningful place to begin.
