Help Us Hold onto Hope When Infertility Has Taken Almost Everything

This is the hardest thing we’ve ever shared publicly. We’ve lost pregnancies, time and pieces of ourselves along the way, and asking for help feels terrifying. But we are not ready to give up on becoming parents.

Our story began in 2015 while in Jackson Hole Wyoming. We became friends almost instantly. There was no big romantic moment. Just two people who couldn't stop talking, laughing and showing up for each other. In 2016, that friendship quietly turned into love. We married in 2018, believing that building a family would be the easiest part of our story. We were wrong.

When pregnancy didn't happen, we entered the world of infertility in 2019. At first, we believed effort, patients, and positivity would be enough. Instead, year after year, we were met with disappointment, medical bills, and the slow grief that comes from watching everyone else move forward while you stand still.

In June 2023, everything collided at once. I was diagnosed with stage IV endometriosis, the most severe form of the disease, at the same time the doctor found a tumor encapsulating my right ovary. Surgery could wait. The tumor and most of my right ovary were removed, changing my body, and our future, forever.

Still, we kept going. In the fall and winter of 2023, we completed three rounds of IUI. None of which worked. We moved on to IVF, knowing the odds were already stacked against us. Two rounds of IVF and 2 retrievals gave us only 5 viable embryos. 5 chances we held onto with everything we had. Both IVF journeys ended in the most heartbreaking miscarriages only 6 months apart.

There are no words for what it feels like to lose not one, but two pregnancies you fought this hard for. To grieve babies the world never got to meet. To pick yourself up and keep going when your heart is shattered and your body is exhausted.

We are now down to our very last embryo. At just 30 years young, I have been told my ovarian reserve is depleting and I’m approaching early menopause, meaning time, something we have already lost so much of, is no longer on our side.

We want to be transparent. We have paid for every step of this journey with the incredible support from both sides of our family who have stood beside us emotionally and financially when we couldn’t do it alone anymore. Here is a breakdown of the past 7 years of infertility treatments we have gone through.

IUI x3 at $1,300 each= $3,900

Bilateral laparoscopy and Tumor removal copay= $1,200

IVF Round #1 = $13,000

IVF Round #2 = $8,000

Biopsy = $500

Out-Of-Pocket medications = $3,000

Totaling so far of $29,600. This doesn’t include the hundreds of appointments, lost work, travel, or the emotional cost that can't be measured.

We are at the point where love and determination are no longer enough. Our remaining options, the only ones left for us to build a family, come with overwhelming costs:

Every path forward feels terrifying, but doing nothing feels worse. Asking for help like this feels vulnerable and uncomfortable. We’ve tried to protect our privacy and carry this quietly for years. But infertility is isolating, and it doesn’t care how strong you are or how hard you try.

We are asking now because we don’t want to look back and wonder if we stopped too soon. If we gave up because we ran out of money instead of running out of hope.

Your support means:

Giving our last embryo the best chance possible. Giving us time when time feels stolen. Reminding us we are not alone in the hardest season of our lives. Whether you donate, share, or simply hold space for us. We feel it.

Thank you. Thank you for reading this. Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping us carry something that has become too heavy to hold on our own.

With all our love,

Chris & Kelly