There’s a certain kind of email that just hits different. No warning, no buildup… just a subject line, a click, and suddenly your whole mood shifts. In the fertility world, clinics send these kinds of emails every single day. Updates, results, next steps. For them, it’s part of the workflow. But for the person receiving it, it can be everything. It can be the end of a cycle they poured months into. It can be the moment a surrogate feels like she’s let someone down. It can be the message intended parents have been both waiting for and dreading all at once.
And yet, so often, those emails feel cold. Clinical. Detached. “Unfortunately, the cycle was unsuccessful. Please stop your medications” or “Your beta is negative. Please book a follow-up.” The information is clear, but it lands hard because it completely misses the emotional weight of what’s being said.
I recently had a surrogate experience an early miscarriage at just seven weeks pregnant, and it pulled me right into the reality of how rushed and impersonal this communication can feel. The email she received delivered heavy, life-altering information in just a few short lines, including the possibility that she might need a D&C. And that was it. No softness. No pause. No acknowledgment of what she had just gone through. No guidance on what to expect next or even a simple “we’re here if you need support.” It read like something sent in between tasks, like a box had been checked rather than a person being cared for. And sitting on the outside of that, watching her receive it, it didn’t just feel clinical… it felt thoughtless.
In the work I do, I spend a significant amount of time in emotional conversations. I’m talking to intended parents navigating infertility, to surrogates carrying the weight of someone else’s dream, to donors making deeply personal decisions. These are not light conversations. They involve loss, uncertainty, risk, and hope all woven together. And the only way to do this work well, and honestly the only way I’ve been able to stay in it for as long as I have, is by leading with empathy. It’s not an extra. It’s the foundation.
Lately, I’ve found myself stepping in more often after these kinds of clinic emails go out – not to change the information, but to reframe it. To humanize it. To make sure my clients don’t feel like they’ve just been handed devastating news in a way that makes them feel small or dismissed. And I can’t help but wonder… have fertility clinics started to rely too heavily on agencies like mine to carry that emotional piece? To soften the edges, to translate, to support in a way that should arguably begin at the point of care?
I understand why this happens. Clinics are busy. They’re managing so many patients, so many moving parts, and they rely on standardized communication to keep things efficient. But somewhere along the way, we’ve lost something important… the human side of this process. Because this isn’t just medical. This is deeply personal. These are moments people will remember for the rest of their lives.
This is exactly why clinics should be investing in sensitivity training specifically around how these emails are written and delivered. It should be real, intentional guidance on communicating difficult news in a way that acknowledges the emotional reality on the other side. Because empathy is a skill, and like anything else in medicine, it can be practiced, refined, and prioritized. Even small shifts, like leading with compassion, choosing softer language, or recognizing the weight of the moment, can completely change how that message lands. It doesn’t take more time, it just takes more awareness. And if time truly is the barrier, then let’s solve for that. Thoughtfully written templates that can be adapted to each situation would allow clinics to maintain efficiency without sacrificing humanity. A few intentional sentences. A line that acknowledges the loss. A brief explanation of what to expect next. A simple offer of support. These are small additions, but they carry enormous weight in the moment they’re received.
Because when a surrogate gets that kind of news, she’s not just processing a result. She’s often feeling like she’s failed someone she cares about. She’s carrying emotions that are complex and layered, because she’s walking this journey for someone else. And for intended parents, it can feel like everything they’ve been building toward just collapsed in a single sentence. That one email can hold so much grief, frustration, and heartbreak.
And here’s the part that often gets overlooked… people don’t just read these emails once and move on. They reread them. They forward them to their partner. They sit with them. Sometimes they go back to them months later. These messages become part of their story, whether clinics realize it or not. And in a process like surrogacy, where there are multiple people emotionally invested, that impact multiplies. One email touches the surrogate, the intended parents, and often everyone around them.
Being professional and being empathetic are not opposites. You can absolutely be both. In fact, taking a moment to lead with empathy builds trust. It shows people they’re not just another file or another cycle on a schedule. It reminds them that they’re seen, especially in the moments that are hardest.
At the end of the day, fertility care isn’t just about outcomes. It’s about how people are supported through the process, especially when things don’t go as planned. And sometimes, support starts with something as simple as choosing better words.
M(Other) starring Angela