May Mary bring you comfort this Lent. Know that she is with you in the desert right now and always. Mother filled with anguish, pray for us. Mary, walk with me in my own Garden of Gethsemane. To help me understand, as you and Jesus did, that it is my “yes” that will bring me peace after the agony.

How often are we ignored? Made to feel that because our bodies can’t do this specific thing or look a certain way, we matter less. All we want is to be seen. Even if we are not gifted like young Matilda, we all have talents and interests, things that should be celebrated instead of tolerated or flat-out rejected.

St. Colette of Corbie was born in 1381 to parents who had long given up hope. When we hear of a woman conceiving at 60 years of age, it's easy to stop reading there. The miracle becomes the whole story, and we miss everything that came after. But St. Colette's life didn't end at her birth; it began there. And if we reduce her to the answer her parents received, we rob ourselves of the witness she offers: a life that shows us what fruitfulness looks like.

I’m just going to come outright and say it; Lent is not my favorite liturgical season. I shared with a friend recently that I honestly feel as if I’ve been living in a “perpetual Lent”. Thinking about adding Lenten fasting, abstinence, penance, and altering my diet feels like more weight than my level of overwhelm can bear. I’m sure this seems like a strange blog to read on The Fruitful Hollow, but I figured some of you may relate.

I broke into a million pieces, and I can’t go back This is the truth infertility forces us to face: we can’t go back. We can’t return to who we were before the diagnosis, before the loss, before the treatments, before the years of waiting. That version of ourselves—the one who believed our bodies would cooperate, who thought motherhood was just a matter of timing, who hadn’t yet learned what it means to grieve something that never was—she’s gone.

St Valentine’s Day is upon us so we’re thinking about love and marriage this week! We dived into the archive and found a wealth of wisdom from our writers on how to build a marriage worth CELEBRATING! Whilst most of our readers are married, a lot of the advice shared in the following blog posts is fruitful for boyfriend/girlfriend relationships too, so we’re confident there’s something here for everyone to enjoy and learn from. Add some SPICE into your relationship SPICE refe

As you may have heard, our theme for 2026 at The Fruitful Hollow is “celebration”. To launch this series, we asked our team members to share what celebration means for them on an infertility journey. As always, their responses were colourfully varied and personal. C.J. (Director) I was surprised at how many people in our leadership team were drawn to the idea of celebration as our theme for 2026! It forced me to look at how I viewed my life, and what meant the most to me. Wh

“Grief is not a state but a process, like a walk in a winding valley with a new prospect at every bend.” — C. S. Lewis From the moment you wake up until your head finally hits the pillow, grief from infertility can feel like a weight you can’t outrun. Some days you come up for air; other days, it swallows you whole. I had known grief before, and it usually passed. But during a difficult adoption process, grief settled in and refused to leave. From the beginning, something abo

If you’re like me in any way, you thrive on connection. That sense of belonging, of sharing the inside joke or seeing someone’s eyes light up when they see you, the hum of energy in a crowd or the chuckle to yourself at reading a loved one’s silly text. The community to support you when all else around you doesn’t make sense. Even the most introverted person needs connection, though it could look differently than an extrovert like me. Even if your village is small, it is stil

There was a time in my infertility journey when I would hold my breath every time I logged into my social media accounts. I dreaded the all too familiar way my heart would drop whenever a new pregnancy announcement popped into my feed. The reaction came quickly and sharply before I could filter it – a hard punch of pain, followed by a slowly building jealousy. Always, it was rounded out by shame – HOW could I feel such ugly feelings in light of new life? What is WRONG with me