“Just relax”: How to navigate unsolicited advice

It still amazes me how many people, with zero medical expertise, feel compelled to offer unsolicited advice. During our infertility journey, I soon learned that any sentence that starts with “you just” is never good. I lost count of how many times I heard, “Just relax.” I also heard: “You just need a big night out”, “You just need a holiday”, “Just adopt” and the classic, “It’ll happen when you stop trying.” And of course, everyone knew someone who stopped IVF and magically fell pregnant. I’ve yet to meet this unicorn, but apparently, they’re out there.

Infertility is a reproductive disease, a medical condition.

Relaxing is not a medical cure. Millions of people worldwide experience infertility for a range of medical reasons. And let’s not forget that forty per cent of infertility cases are due to male factor. Yet when a couple struggles to conceive, the assumption almost always lands on the woman. I often wonder how many men have been told to, “Just relax.” Hardly any is my guess.

Our son was born through gestational surrogacy because of my thin endometrium lining. The endometrium — the inner lining of the uterus — is essential for implantation and sustaining a pregnancy. After years of failed transfers and pregnancy losses, our second IVF specialist delivered the hard truth: thin linings are rare, often genetic, and usually impossible to treat. Surrogacy was our strongest chance of having a baby.

But I wasn’t ready to let go of the idea of carrying a pregnancy myself. So I tried everything: acupuncture, Chinese medicine, special diets, medications, supplements and even a stem cell procedure. Nothing worked. And while our specialist knew these approaches were unlikely to help (aside from the stem cell option), he also knew I needed to reach that understanding myself.

So why is unsolicited advice such an issue?

Because it made me feel awful. It made me feel like it was my fault. Even though I knew — then and now — that infertility is outside my control, self-blame creeps in when you’re in the thick of it.

Before my diagnosis, people often described me as calm and balanced. At one workplace farewell event, a colleague said, “Has anyone ever seen Kirst flustered? I haven’t. She’s one of the most measured and patient people in our team.” Measured, steady, patient — not exactly the traits of someone incapable of relaxing. I’ve known friends with infertility who are some of the most resilient, grounded people I’ve ever met. And I’ve known anxious, highly strung people who have fallen pregnant without trying. Why? Because the two are not related.

In my book This is Infertility, Dr Russell Foulk puts it perfectly: “People will say, ‘It was easy for me to get pregnant, just stop thinking about it, stop stressing about it.’ Which is really difficult information to get. It’s like if you’re diagnosed with cancer and someone tells you to stop thinking about it or get past the stress and you’ll get better — which is a ridiculous concept.”

My advice? Advocate for yourself.

I wish I’d done it sooner. Eventually, when someone offered “advice,” I started responding with facts: Infertility is a reproductive disease that affects millions worldwide. And on bolder days, I would say: “I’m not sure how relaxed women in war‑torn countries are. They fall pregnant every day,” or “Relaxing is not a medical cure. Imagine telling someone with cancer to ‘just relax’ and they would be healed. It would be hurtful and insulting. Infertility is no different.”

Like most medical conditions, infertility is indiscriminate and outside your control. It is not your fault. And the strength, resilience, and determination people show on the path to parenthood is extraordinary.

*Also featured in Wish for a Baby Australia