top of page

Breaking Cycles: Sarah Caminiti on Infertility, Loss, and Finding Strength in Motherhood

  • Writer: Chelsea Myers
    Chelsea Myers
  • Sep 10, 2025
  • 3 min read

For many, the path to motherhood feels like a straight line. But for Sarah Caminiti, it was a winding, uphill climb marked by six years of PCOS, unexplained infertility, miscarriage, and IVF before holding her two boys in her arms.


In this week’s episode of Quiet Connection, Sarah sits down with host Chelsea Myers to share her raw, unfiltered story of building a family—and herself—through unimaginable challenges.


“It felt like my body was betraying me.”

Diagnosed with PCOS at 18, Sarah knew conceiving might not be simple, but nothing prepared her for the waiting, uncertainty, and heartbreak of unexplained infertility.


A person holds four yellow circular objects with vent-like patterns, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans. Hair partially visible in the background.
A woman reflects on her journey with PCOS and infertility, feeling confused and disappointed.
“There’s a sadness you can’t define,” she shares. “Month after month, negative test after negative test… you start blaming yourself. You replay everything you’ve ever done—what you ate, what you drank, how stressed you were—and wonder if this is somehow your fault. It’s not. But it feels like it.”

Sarah’s first son, Theo, was conceived with medication and careful timing after a year and a half of trying. But when she and her husband began trying for their second child, Luca, the road stretched on even longer, with two pregnancy losses and multiple rounds of IVF before their family was complete.



Finding Resilience Through the Pain

What carried Sarah through? A mix of stubborn hope, self-compassion, and redefining what strength looks like.


“I started seeing my body as a tool, not as broken,” she explains. “It wasn’t my fault, even when it felt like it was. And I had to keep reminding myself that my sadness didn’t make me a bad mom—my kids would be okay if I was sad for a while.”

Today, Sarah isn’t just a mom to Theo and Luca—she’s also a career coach, consultant, and advocate for women finding their voice after feeling small for far too long. Her story is proof that healing doesn’t mean forgetting—it means carrying your story forward without letting it define you.


Woman smiles with two kids in a sunny park. One child hugs her, wearing a denim jacket; the other sits on her lap in plaid. Casual, joyful mood.
Achieving the dream of motherhood with unwavering determination.

Why Talking About Infertility Matters

So much of Sarah’s story underscores a powerful truth: staying silent about infertility and loss only deepens the shame.


“If we don’t talk about it,” she says, “we just create more isolation. More people feeling broken, stuck, and alone—for what? Connection is so much more powerful. Sharing is how we heal.”

5 Quick Takeaways from Sarah’s Story

(Perfect for sharing or saving)

  1. Your sadness doesn’t make you a bad parent. Your kids can handle a season where you’re healing.

  2. Infertility grief is real—even when there hasn’t been a loss. It’s the grief of waiting, of time slipping by, and of feeling powerless.

  3. Your story is valid, but it’s not all of you. You can carry your pain without letting it define you.

  4. Strength often shows up quietly. Sarah discovered hers not by “powering through,” but by allowing herself to feel everything.

  5. Talking about the hard parts helps others feel less alone. Breaking the silence is an act of connection and healing.


Listen & Connect

Catch the full conversation with Sarah on Quiet Connection: Postpartum Mental Health wherever you get your podcasts.



For more on postpartum support, visit:

  • Postpartum Support International – Resources & peer support.

Quiet Connection Website – More stories, blogs, and community.


Comments


Connect With Us

Have a Question? Want to tell us your story? Please reach out, we'd love to hear from you!

Thanks for submitting!

© Quiet Connection  Powered and secured by Wix

bottom of page