By Dally Kaur, Fractional Marketing Director, Thrive Law
When people talk about leadership, resilience is often celebrated. We admire those who keep going through challenges, who remain strong under pressure and who show up every day, regardless of what is happening behind the scenes.
What we talk about less is the cost of always appearing strong.
For me, Infertility Awareness Month is an opportunity to share a part of my story that, for a long time, remained hidden.
In 2021, after nine cycles of IVF, five embryo transfers and the heartbreak of an early miscarriage, I finally became a mum to my beautiful baby boy.
Looking back now, I can see just how much I was carrying during those years.
At the time, I was running my business and leading a team. On the surface, everything looked normal. Meetings were attended, deadlines were met, clients were supported and business carried on. But beneath that professional exterior was someone navigating one of the most emotionally demanding experiences of her life.
As a business leader, I didn’t feel I had anyone to turn to.
I believed I had to keep going, keep performing and keep showing up exactly as I always had. I worried that if I spoke openly about what I was going through, people might see me differently. They might question my capability, my judgement or my ability to lead.
So I carried on.
In fact, my miscarriage began while I was at work. Despite what was happening, I stayed and continued working. At the time, I convinced myself that was the right thing to do. I felt an overwhelming responsibility to keep going and not let anyone down.
Looking back, I can see what a terrible decision that was.
If any member of my team had been going through the same experience, I would have told them to stop, go home and put themselves first. I would have offered compassion, understanding and support without hesitation. Yet somehow, I held myself to a completely different standard.
That experience taught me something important about leadership. Too often, we extend kindness and empathy to everyone around us while denying it to ourselves. We believe we have to be the strong one. The one who copes. The one who carries on regardless.
I attended meetings after appointments. I managed projects while processing disappointment. I smiled through conversations when privately I was dealing with grief, uncertainty and exhaustion.
What I know now is that infertility doesn’t just affect your personal life. It follows you into the workplace. It impacts your concentration, your energy, your confidence and your wellbeing. Yet so many people suffer in silence because they don’t feel safe enough to talk about it.
Even after successfully becoming pregnant, the challenges didn’t end.
My son was born five weeks premature, weighing just 3lb 11oz. During my pregnancy, I developed severe pre-eclampsia, which led to serious liver and kidney complications. It was a frightening time for me and my family, and one that reminded me just how fragile life can be.
Again, I found myself feeling unable to be fully open about what I was experiencing. I worried about being perceived as vulnerable. I worried about what people might think.
The reality is that many leaders are struggling too.
We often assume that senior leaders have all the answers, that they are somehow immune from life’s challenges. But leadership does not protect us from infertility, miscarriage, pregnancy complications or loss. It simply means we often feel an even greater pressure to hide those experiences.
One of the positive things to come from reflecting on my own experience has been a deeper appreciation of the role workplace culture plays in supporting people through life’s challenges.
Over the last year, working as a Fractional Marketing Director for Thrive Law has shown me the power of being part of a truly values-led organisation. Watching Jodie Hill build and nurture a culture where people feel safe to be themselves has been incredibly inspiring.
The team at Thrive Law is made up of passionate, hardworking and dedicated people who consistently strive to deliver exceptional work. But what stands out most is that being high-performing and ambitious is not at the expense of wellbeing. There is a genuine understanding that people are human first.
It is a workplace where individuals are encouraged to speak openly, where vulnerability is not seen as weakness and where support is offered without judgement. Experiencing that environment has made me reflect on my own journey and the pressures I placed on myself during IVF and pregnancy complications.
Had I experienced that same level of psychological safety earlier in my career, perhaps I would have felt able to ask for support rather than carrying everything alone.
It has reinforced my belief that creating safe workplaces is not simply a ‘nice to have’. It is essential. Because every organisation will have people navigating challenges that others cannot see, and culture determines whether they suffer in silence or feel supported through them.
This is why awareness matters.
By talking openly about infertility and reproductive health, we help to remove the stigma that still exists in many workplaces. We create environments where people don’t have to choose between their wellbeing and their career. We remind individuals that they don’t have to face these challenges alone.
My journey to motherhood was far from straightforward, and there were many moments when I wondered whether it would ever happen for me.
Today, when I look at my son, I am reminded of every hurdle, every setback and every moment of hope that got us here.
If sharing my story helps even one person feel less isolated, or encourages one workplace to have more compassionate conversations, then it is worth telling.
This Infertility Awareness Month, let’s create workplaces where people can bring their whole selves to work, where vulnerability is not viewed as weakness and where nobody feels they have to suffer in silence.
Because behind many successful careers are stories that we never see.
And sometimes, sharing those stories is the bravest form of leadership.
