Emma and Dan have spent more than a decade trying to become parents. Their journey has included infertility, international moves, enormous but accepted sacrifice, IVF, pregnancy loss, the loss of their daughter Avery, more treatment, more heartbreak, and eventually the heartbreaking decision that the pain and loss was too much for Dan and Emma to bear and they stepped away to get the support they needed to help them grieve and heal.

When Emma and Dan were ready to start a family, they tried for a year, and nothing happened. They were 25 and 26 and what followed were eight years of loneliness and despair. They attended appointments and were told the key to having a baby was to lose weight before they could be referred for fertility treatment. Every few months they would go back and try again. In 2016, Slimming World and starving herself meant that Emma lost 40 pounds. Still no referral. Still “too fat” to be parents. Still told that the “clock is ticking”.

Alongside a PCOS diagnosis, they were also coming to terms with male-factor infertility.

After years of the same experience, Emma became deeply depressed and struggled to get out of bed most weekends. Dan, as always, was her rock and brought their dog, Kasper, into their lives. Having something to care for carried Emma through the darkest days. In her words, “they saved me.” Underneath all his strength, Dan was struggling too, he was desperate to bring joy into their lives. By 2018, they knew they couldn’t keep living appointment to appointment, hoping somebody would eventually help them, so they made an enormous life-altering decision and relocated from England to Canada to pursue adequate fertility treatment.

They left their families, friends, careers and familiar life behind with the hope they might finally have a real chance at becoming parents. Within 18 months of moving, the medical care they received had made a difference and they finally received the referral they had wished for, to Markham Fertility Centre to begin IVF. After the 8 years of treatment in the UK, there was a genuine fear that their ‘prime’ fertility window had been squandered but a glimmer of hope had shone through.

Anyone who has ever been through IVF understands the toll that a cycle can have on a couple, but Dan and Emma were united in doing everything they could in making this a success. This was in the days during Covid and often Dan, against his will, would have to wait outside the clinic while Emma attended screenings. For three weeks, there were daily 5am alarms, injections, pills and hour-long ultrasounds to contend with. On Valentine’s Day 2022, they had their egg retrieval and ended up with eight viable embryos. Their first and second embryo transfers both resulted in early losses, and while very difficult, they didn’t lose hope. They also gave Emma and Dan something they had waited almost a decade to see: two lines on a pregnancy test. They named those little ones Faith and Hope.

Then, in October 2022, they transferred their third embryo. A beautiful 4BA graded bubble of love.

She stuck.

At the eight-week viability scan, there was ‘Little Pip’, wriggling around with a strong heartbeat. At 12 weeks, she was growing beautifully. They did the genetic testing, everything looked great, and they found out she was a girl.

Their daughter, Avery Joy. She was due in July 2023.

They were so cautious, but after 16 weeks they had succumbed to the excitement and bought clothes, a pram, car seat, bouncers, bassinets… it was finally happening. They took their time writing a post for social media, feeling the pressure of so many people rooting for them to bring Baby Lees home. They posted their joyous news on New Years Eve and just over a month later, everything changed.

Halfway through the pregnancy, Emma felt a little off and went to bed early. As she was changing, she noticed some pink discharge. In an abundance of caution, they rushed to hospital just to be safe and didn’t take anything with them because they naively thought they would be checked over and sent home.

They weren’t.

After traumatic tests, being fast-tracked to a larger hospital, and hours of waiting to be examined by an OBGYN, Emma’s waters broke. There was nothing they could do for their healthy, precious baby girl who they had dreamed of, yearned for, cried for, and fought so hard for.

Avery Joy Lees was born sleeping on February 2, 2023.

15 hours. That’s the length of time they had with Avery. Her cupid bow lips, her wide eyes and long limbs. They held her, Dan encouraging Emma to make the most of their limited time together. She was introduced to her grandparents over video call. She was rocked to Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Landslide’ and danced with her Daddy to ‘My Girl’ by The Temptations. They were supported by the most wonderful nurses, one in particular, Ashleigh, who had suffered the loss of her own child, Blake. She has made it her mission to ensure that bereaved parents are adequately cared for, and she was their angel during those 48 hours in hospital.

Although their families were over 3000 miles away, the local community rallied around them, ensuring they were looked after and checked on. Friends and neighbours provided meals and food vouchers, there were clothes and teddies, a star named after Avery and jewellery bearing her name. The living room began to resemble a florist or even a garden centre. Friends took care of Kasper and made sure they were never alone if they needed company.

Eventually, somehow, they found the strength to try again. But something had changed in Emma’s body. Treatments that had worked before no longer worked, and they were diagnosed with secondary infertility. Three more precious embryos were transferred without bringing them their baby. They went through more treatment, including weekly 90-minute immunology infusions with in-home nursing support.

In November 2023, those two lines appeared again. There was eventually a tiny heartbeat belonging to ‘Little Nugsy’, and for a little while, they dared to believe Avery might have a sibling. That pregnancy ended too at 10 weeks, just before Avery’s first birthday.

They were shattered.

After much soul searching and despair, they decided to move back to England. But they still had one embryo left, so in the summer of 2025, they paid to return to Canada and transferred their final embryo.

The transfer was negative. After years of treatment, travel, 1000s of injections, pills, procedures, pregnancies, losses and pouring their savings into this dream, there were no embryos left.

They returned to England with the all-encompassing feeling of hopelessness. What would their future look like after the past 15 years had been focused on achieving their dream of becoming parents.

Both Dan and Emma spent the next year in therapy, hoping that by working through the trauma and grief they could find some peace and closure. This wasn’t an easy fix, there have been devastatingly hard moments for both, but despite all the inner work, one truth remained: they wanted desperately to be parents.

Although Avery and Nugsy are very present in their daily lives, their hopes for the future still exist with a little Lees in them. Emma spends her days caring for and teaching other people’s children, and she still longs to care for one of her own.

Part of moving forward has meant that both have also had to accept that Emma’s body is exhausted. They have come to terms with the fact that carrying another pregnancy would be a struggle to pursue. They thought that meant their story was over.

Because their previous embryos have all been transferred, this next chapter will require further fertility treatment for Emma and Dan to create new embryos with the team at Markham Fertility Centre.

But this time, they’ll have the help of their friend Cass — hi!

Emma and Dan are the kind of people who draw you in with their genuine warmth and brightness, and somehow become the friends who will unexpectedly steal you from home for a trio dinner date because you’ve gone “a bit quiet” and they “just knew.”

And while it can be easy to centre Emma in this story, please understand that Emma and Dan are one heart. They are who they are because of each other. Dan has lived every part of the enormity of their lives and losses alongside Emma, and has never stopped demonstrating his own character, values and support of those around him. Both of my friends deserve to be recognized here for everything they are and everything they’ve lived. They are the good we wish to see in the world.

They’re selfless and intuitive, and they care so deeply for other people that even within unimaginable grief, they continue to show up in the kindest ways. They’re gentle and hilarious, intelligent without a drop of arrogance or judgement. Emma and Dan build and foster community wherever they go.

Seriously, I’ve never met people with such an ability to make you feel valued and seen. They make fast friends at the market, in local shops, at work, in hobby clubs, and it’s because they genuinely care about people and about the energy they contribute to this world.

People matter to them. But Emma and Dan matter too.

I watch them love Avery so beautifully from universes away, and that will never change. But they also long to bring her sibling home to join them in this life.

They want the family experiences, the early weekend mornings, and the long-winded bedtime routines with a child who is “seriously not even tired,” argued through sleepy yawns, and who just needs “one more story” or “one last cuddle” — of course, said in Emma’s most magical English accent rather than my own less whimsical Canadian version.

They dream of making fancy dress outfits for Halloween, mucky hands and Christmas traditions together. Dan longs to share his love of cooking and bbq with a wide eyed youngster as his sous chef. He wants to experience something meaningful that’s just for the two of them whether that’s a love of sport or an afternoon fishing or watching the Blue Jays or the Bills. They long for first days of school, doing homework at the kitchen table, and their lives revolving around play dates and sport fixtures. They long for family holidays and building forts in the living room, indoor picnics and trips to the toy store, and visits to see Granny and Grandad.

I can picture their home filled with laughs and tears and kisses and music and everything in between.

I want to watch their child’s eyes light up at the sight of them. I want to hear a little boy or girl call for their mummy and daddy with the kind of certainty that comes from knowing love and safety.

Emma and Dan want all of it, the mundane and the magical. They want full arms and long nights, firsts of every kind, and hellos that don’t have to turn into the kinds of goodbyes that have broken their hearts time and time again.

Because of who they are, and because of all the good they bring into people’s lives in both big and small ways, I told Emma that if they ever chose surrogacy, I would carry a pregnancy for them.

Without question.

Their fertility journey had already left them emotionally, mentally, physically and financially shattered, so at the time they weren’t ready. They needed space to heal, to return home, and to try to make peace with the previous 15 years.

But when the conversation about surrogacy came back around, my answer hadn’t changed.

Yes. Absolutely. I want to help them try to bring a baby home through gestational surrogacy.

I’ve had my own babies, the early mornings, chaotic bedtime routines, snuggles, stories and boo-boo kisses. I’ve danced in the living room and caught the vomit of sick children. My youngest is nine, my oldest is fifteen, and I am finished growing my own family.

But I would love to help Emma and Dan grow theirs.

So, time zones apart, we started researching. We booked consultations and began learning what would be required. I made medication adjustments and planned for what the coming needs would be. Emma and Dan started making plans to return to Canada, the place that brought them their sweet Avery girl, and they would try again, this time with my help. They listed their home and bravely became reacquainted with the reality of another fresh start.

Then we learned what it was all going to cost.

The financial reality of gestational surrogacy was far greater than any of us expected, especially after the already enormous costs of IVF and everything Emma and Dan had poured into this journey over the years.

Still separated by an ocean, Emma and I sat on a video call after their legal consultation talking through the numbers. We cried together. Dan was out of frame but present, head hung and deep in the sorrow that has touched their lives repeatedly. I’ll never forget that image.

My friends, who had repeatedly made it clear that my health and wellbeing had to come first through this process, were looking at another path to parenthood that seemed capable of consuming almost everything they had left.

They couldn’t lose everything they had left trying to have a child, only to be left unable to provide the stable life they wanted to give that child. Here were two hardworking, loving people with so much capacity to parent, and a close friend willing and ready to carry for them, and there was still another enormous barrier standing in the way.

For a moment, it felt like we were slipping back toward the need for acceptance all over again.

And then there was this tiny bit of hope.

Emma and Dan and I are not the only people in this world who care. We’ve all seen communities come together to support a person, a family, a cause, a dream, and I’ve watched Emma and Dan show that same kindness and generosity to the people around them for years.

So I asked if they would let me take a chance and set up this GoFundMe.

And here I am.

Our fundraising goal is $50,000 CAD.

This amount is intended to help cover the eligible, documented costs of pursuing gestational surrogacy in Canada, including fertility treatment, medical and psychological screening, independent legal representation for the parents and surrogate, travel, insurance where required or applicable, pregnancy-related expenses and other necessary surrogacy-related reimbursements. It is not payment for carrying a baby, by Ontario law I am unable to accept payment for surrogacy and I will not profit from the pregnancy.

The final costs may change as we receive formal quotes, complete medical and legal consultations, and learn in further detail what is required. If we raise more than is needed for eligible expenses, or if the journey cannot proceed, we will provide an update explaining how any remaining funds will be handled. We will also continue sharing updates and documentation where appropriate so donors can understand how the money is being used.

This is an altruistic surrogacy journey as required by Canadian law. I am not being paid to carry Emma and Dan’s baby. I am offering my time, my energy and my body because I love these people, and because helping them finally bring their child home would mean more to me than I can properly explain.

I want to be the cool aunt. I want my friends to be parents. And I want to protect this remaining piece of hope after everything this journey has already taken from them.

To make that possible, we need some help.

Fifty thousand dollars is a significant goal, but it does not have to come from one person. A donation of any size can help cover part of the medical, legal, travel or pregnancy-related costs. If you are able to give, please donate through this fundraiser. If you cannot donate, sharing the link with friends, family, local groups or anyone who may connect with their story is so truly appreciated. You can also help by following the updates, leaving an encouraging message, or sharing the fundraiser again later.

There are no guarantees in any of this. I still need to complete medical and psychological screening and receive clinic approval, and even after that, embryo transfer and pregnancy come with uncertainty and risk. Emma and Dan understand that more intimately than most. We are not asking anyone to fund a guaranteed outcome. We are asking for the opportunity to try, with the appropriate medical, psychological and legal support around us.

I love these humans, and I know there are so many others who love them too. I also know that many people will recognize pieces of their own lives in this story, whether that’s infertility, pregnancy loss, grief, hope, or simply the longing to build a family.

If you can contribute, thank you. If you can share, thank you. If all you can do is read their story and hold Emma, Dan and Avery in your thoughts and hearts, that matters too.

And if we are lucky enough to get there, that child will know how wanted they were. They will know about their sister Avery. They will know how fiercely their mum and dad hoped for them, and they will know that a whole lot of people helped make their story possible.

The Joy of Sunflowers - Moving Country/Fertility