It’s such a niche topic: experiencing infertility while also “being a nomad” with varying access to healthcare. Woman becomes a full-time traveler: no home, just suitcases, and a loving husband to carry them.
I hope this finds the right woman. If you’re Googling things like “full-time traveler infertility” or “how to get pregnant while traveling”, like I was…then this is for you.
I’m living a nomadic life, traveling full-time, living out my wildest dreams, and also trying to get pregnant. And it’s not working. It’s not sticking.
I’m trying acupuncture. Mucinex. I meditate daily. I love my natural medicines and supplements: maca, moringa, turmeric, ginger, cinnamon lattes galore. I take a prenatal with folic acid and DHA. I know the difference between folate and methylfolate. I’ve had blood work done to test my thyroid, progesterone, testosterone, iron, LH, FSH, E2. I track my temperature, use ovulation strips, and mark every cramp and bodily sign like it’s my full-time job.
I thought this “new free lifestyle” would regulate my nervous system and that would be it: I’d be pregnant. Instead, I’ve had two miscarriages.
I carry my own medical records and meet new doctors in new countries. I’ve had appointments in Spanish and Portuguese. The longest I stay in one city is about six weeks, which means it’s up to me to time appointments with my cycle, know when to get testing done, and know what tests to ask for. It’s a lot. I’m a social sciences major; I don’t know this shit. Right now, I’m not interested in IVF or IUI. Adoption feels closer to reality. But as always, changing your mind is allowed. Nothing about this journey is linear.
This lifestyle is expensive and isolating. There’s a particular kind of loneliness that comes from being far from family, far from routine, while ALSO trying to conceive.
It feels liminal. I’m no longer who I was. I don’t have the same job, the same city, or the same life. I’m not yet who I’m trying to be come? I’m not pregnant. I’m not a mom. And it’s ass. But I’m also grateful. and trying to “take advantage” of this time with little responsibility and lots of sleep that I didn’t expect to have.
I don’t have answers. I’d like some. And if this finds someone else living in that same in-between space of trying and traveling, know that…me too?
I’m just a girl.
Update, October 2026: It took me 13 months, but I got pregnant and stayed pregnant.
In Florianópolis, Brazil, I got blood work done. It showed my thyroid was normal, which was really the only thing they checked for, plus my blood type. They wanted to make sure I wasn’t Rh negative (like O negative). If you’re Rh negative and your baby is Rh positive, your body can make antibodies against the baby’s blood, which can cause problems in later pregnancies. That’s why Rh-negative moms get a shot called Rh immune globulin during pregnancy and after a miscarriage.
Then in Cape Town, South Africa, I tried a Chinese herbalist and acupuncture. The doctor put needles in my lower abdomen, right above my uterus. I consider myself to have a high pain tolerance, and it was actually pretty painful. But that got me excited, like something was working, because I could feel cramping in my uterus.
I was never diagnosed with endometriosis. My OB-GYN in the US told me he’d have to do surgery, making a small incision in my stomach to look inside, before he could give me a diagnosis. So I could only presume I had it. During the acupuncture, I thought, oh wow, maybe it’s shedding some extra lining that I have. I don’t know.
I also bought some pills from the herbalist for about $50 USD, and my very next cycle, I got pregnant. I’m not a doctor, so this is just what worked for me.
Our baby was born in Recife, Brazil, and I wrote all about it in giving birth in Brazil as an American.