How Many Failed IVF Cycles Is Too Many?
This is a question most of us never imagined we’d be asking ourselves.
When I started IVF, I didn’t think in terms of limits. I thought in terms of outcomes. I thought, We’ll try, it will work, and this will all make sense in hindsight.
But IVF doesn’t work that way. And when it doesn’t work (especially more than once), you’re left holding questions no one prepared you for.
The Pressure to “Just Try One More Time”
After a failed cycle, the response is almost automatic.
“Just try again.”
“You only need one.”
“Next time could be the one.”
Sometimes the pressure comes from doctors. Sometimes from well-meaning friends. Sometimes from that relentless voice in your own head that says,
What if stopping means I didn’t want it badly enough? What if I miss out on the “one” that is going to work if I stop now?
IVF makes it feel like quitting is a moral failure instead of a medical decision. Perseverance is the only acceptable choice. But no one talks about the cost of “one more time”...financially, physically, emotionally. No one talks about how heavy hope can get when you’ve been carrying it for years.
When Hope Turns Into Burnout
Hope is powerful. It’s also exhausting.
At some point, hope stopped feeling like a lifeline and started feeling like a job. I was scheduling my life around injections, cycles, blood draws, and waiting periods. I was constantly bracing for disappointment while trying to stay optimistic enough to keep going.
That’s burnout.
Not because you don’t care, but because you care so much, for so long, with no relief.
And burnout doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means your nervous system has been living in survival mode. I personally think a burnout is unique to the individual. For some people, 1 or 2 cycles is enough, while others can go 7-8, even 10 times.
I was right in the middle at 5 or 6 cycles, I actually can’t remember how many I tried, it was such a foggy time in my life.
Giving Yourself Permission to Pause and Reassess
Here’s something I wish someone had told me sooner: You’re allowed to pause without deciding anything forever.
Pausing doesn’t mean you’re done. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re giving yourself space to breathe, to think clearly, to check in with your body and your heart instead of operating on autopilot.
For some, a pause is just one month, for others, a year. Again, depending on your personality, financial means and stamina, this could look very different by individual.
Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is stop long enough to ask, Is this still the right path for me?
What Doctors Don’t Always Explain After IVF Fails
After failed IVF cycles, conversations often focus on tweaking protocols: different meds, higher doses, another retrieval, yada yada yada.
What doesn’t always get explained clearly is what repeated failure can indicate. Sometimes the issue isn’t trying harder. Sometimes it’s egg quality. Sometimes it’s age. Sometimes it’s a combination of factors that medicine can’t override, no matter how advanced it is.
Sometimes we aren’t ready to hear any of that. I still remember a doctor telling me I needed donor eggs after I had only done 1 cycle. I basically told him to screw off. I thought he was the biggest jerk. In hindsight, he was right, I just wasn't ready to hear that.
After 5–6 cycles with a different doctor, I actually went back to that same jerk, pursued donor eggs and got pregnant the first time. I could have saved myself a lot of time and money had I taken his advice, but like I said, I wasn’t there yet.
Only you know when you are there.
Donor eggs are often mentioned quietly, almost as a last resort, but not always fully explained as a legitimate, proactive option rather than a failure fallback.
IVF Didn’t Work. Now What?
This is where things get really hard.
Because when IVF doesn’t work, it’s not just a treatment that failed. It’s a future you imagined. A version of the story where this was the turning point.
Now what looks different for everyone:
- Some people keep going.
- Some take long breaks.
- Some explore donor conception.
- Some choose paths outside of pregnancy entirely.
None of these are wrong. None of them are giving up.
How Do You Know When It’s Time to Consider Donor Eggs?
This isn’t a checklist decision. It’s an emotional one.
For many people, donor eggs come into the conversation when IVF failures start repeating themselves without clear explanations, or when the emotional and physical toll outweighs the odds. Or when the odds don’t feel like an investment you can keep throwing money at.
I was facing all of those things. I couldn’t physically or emotionally do another cycle and I didn’t have unlimited funds to keep going at something that wasn’t working.
Considering donor eggs doesn’t mean you’re abandoning your dream. It means you’re redefining how you might get there.
But that doesn’t make it easy.
Letting Go of the Plan I Thought Would Work
This part deserves honesty.
Letting go of using my own eggs felt like grieving a version of motherhood I had always assumed would be mine. It wasn’t just about genetics; it was about identity, expectations, and the belief that my body would eventually cooperate if I tried hard enough.
Letting go didn’t happen all at once. It happened in waves. Some days I felt peace. Other days I felt loss so deep I’d drop to the floor in tears.
Both can exist at the same time.
Am I Giving Up?
This is the question that haunted me the most.
And here’s the truth I keep coming back to: Choosing a different path is not the same as giving up.
Giving up would mean walking away because you don’t care anymore. Reassessing means you care enough to protect yourself while still honoring your desire to become a parent.
Strength doesn’t always look like pushing forward. Sometimes it looks like choosing yourself. Sometimes it looks like redefining success. Sometimes it looks like saying, This plan hurt me, and I’m allowed to want something different.
If you’re asking how many failed IVF cycles is too many, you’re not broken, you’re paying attention. And that matters.
You’re allowed to stop.
You’re allowed to pivot.
You’re allowed to grieve the plan and still hope for the outcome.
And whatever you decide next, it doesn’t erase how hard you tried.
Do I have regrets?
I don’t.
If I’m being completely honest, my only regret is not pivoting to donor eggs sooner, but that’s only because I have my two soul babies now, and I would have loved more time with them.
I’ve never met anyone who became a mother through donor eggs and regretted it.
Because motherhood isn’t defined by whose egg was needed. It’s defined by love, presence, sacrifice, and the life you build with your child. Our children become a part of us, not genetically, but completely.
If anything, this journey taught me that becoming a mother wasn’t about proving my body could do something.
It was about listening when it couldn’t, and choosing another way forward anyway.
And that choice didn’t make me weaker.