Why rest — not force — is the true foundation of fertility, especially in the Year of the Fire Horse.

I know the voice. The one that whispers at 2am or catches you mid-scroll on someone else's announcement: You should be further along by now.

I want to offer you something today that might feel counterintuitive, maybe even uncomfortable. What if the most fertile thing you could do right now is stop trying so hard?

Not stop caring. Not give up. But stop forcing.

We've just entered the Year of the Fire Horse — a cycle so rare it only returns once every sixty years. The last one was 1966. And if you've felt the collective energy shift since Lunar New Year, you're not imagining things.

Fire Horse energy is bold, fast, and forward-moving. It's the thoroughbred racing toward the finish line. The world around you will feel louder this year — more urgency, more momentum, more go, go, go. And if you're on a fertility journey, that cultural tempo can feel like pressure dressed up as inspiration.

But here's what the Fire Horse wisdom actually teaches us when we look closer: the aftermath of fire is growth. Not the fire itself — what comes after. The soil that's been cleared. The space that's been made. The quiet, nutrient-rich ground where new life takes root.

You are that ground.

Think about what happened the last time Fire Horse energy swept through the world. In 1966, the Beatles released Revolver — an album that broke every rule about what music could be, and changed the sonic landscape forever. That same year, Star Trek premiered, daring to imagine a future built on exploration, diversity, and the radical idea that humanity might actually figure itself out. And in October of 1966, the Black Panther Party was founded — a bold, unapologetic act of community care born out of urgency and love.

Fire Horse years ignite things. They shake loose what's been stuck. They demand courage and forward motion.

But here's the part we often forget: what followed 1966 was the Summer of Love.

All that blazing Fire Horse energy didn't just burn. It cleared the ground. And what bloomed the very next year was a collective exhale — a turning toward tenderness, connection, beauty, and the radical act of slowing down. The fire came first. But the flowering came after.

Your fertility journey holds the same rhythm. The urgency you feel right now — the heat, the intensity, the desperate forward motion — is not the whole story. It's one season. And what's waiting on the other side of it, if you let yourself rest into it, might be your own kind of summer.

In my practice, I see it again and again — the woman who has been pushing, optimizing, tracking, supplementing, scheduling, and white-knuckling her way through cycle after cycle. She arrives exhausted. Not because she's doing it wrong, but because she's been doing so much that her body never got the signal that it's safe.

And safety — that deep, nervous-system-level sense of I am held, I am okay, I can soften — is one of the most overlooked foundations of fertility.

Your body is not a machine to be optimized. It is an ecosystem that responds to the weather of your inner world. When the inner weather is all storm, all urgency, all pressure — your body protects itself. It tightens. It waits.

When the inner weather shifts to warmth, to trust, to spaciousness — something ancient in you begins to open.

So in this Year of the Fire Horse, I want to invite you into a radical reframe:

What if rest is not a reward you earn after the baby comes — but the very thing that calls new life in?

What if the cycle you "take off" to sleep more, to walk slowly, to say no to the thing that drains you — what if that's not lost time? What if that's the cycle your body has been waiting for?

The Fire Horse charges forward. But the wise rider knows when to let the horse rest, when to loosen the reins, when to trust the animal's own intelligence. Your body has its own intelligence too. It knows things your mind hasn't caught up to yet.

You are not behind. There is no timeline you've fallen off of. The path you're on — with all its detours and waiting rooms and long, quiet stretches — is not evidence of failure. It is evidence of something being built. Slowly. Carefully. In the dark, the way all the most important things grow.

The Fire Horse year will tempt you to gallop. To do more, try harder, push faster. And there will be moments for bold action — yes. But the deepest fertility wisdom I know is this: your body blooms in the presence of your own kindness.

So be gentle with yourself this month. Rest like it matters — because it does. Trust the timing that is yours alone. And know that rebuilding is not the same as falling behind.

It is the bravest, most fertile thing you can do.

Reach out if you need a hand.