More Than My Infertility Story

Infertility was part of my life for eight years—eight years of treatments, waiting, hoping, and grieving.

It looked like five IUIs, endometriosis surgery, countless medicated cycles, three egg retrievals, and eleven embryo transfers. It included three miscarriages—one of them a late loss at 18 weeks of a donor embryo we had so much hope for.

For a long time, infertility felt like everything. It consumed my thoughts, my plans, and the way I measured time. Life was lived in cycles, in appointments, in two-week waits, and in phone calls I both anticipated and feared.

But my story is more than that.

Because the truth is, it didn’t just last eight years. Even now, six years into our resolution, infertility is still a part of my life.

It shows up in quiet, unexpected moments—in memories that surface without warning and in grief that never fully disappears, but instead softens and reshapes over time. It lives in the way I connect with others still walking this path, and in the understanding that infertility doesn’t always have a clear beginning and end. It becomes a part of you.

Infertility shaped me—and it stayed with me. But my story is still more than that.

It’s more than the numbers, the procedures, and the heartbreak. It’s the decision to build our family in a different way, ultimately through donor embryos. It’s the children we have today because of that path—our son and our daughter—who are here because our story unfolded in a way we never could have planned.

But even that isn’t the whole story.

My journey is more than how my family was built. It’s who I became—and who I found—along the way.

Infertility brought me to RESOLVE at a time when I felt isolated and overwhelmed. What I found there was more than support. It was connection, understanding, and a community that truly “got it.”

I spent seven years running a support group, but what I gained in return is something I carry with me every day.

The women I met through this community are some of my closest friends. We talk every day. We’ve walked through each other’s hardest moments and celebrated each other’s milestones. We’ve shown up for one another in ways that only people who have lived this experience can.

These are the people who understand without explanation. The ones who can hold space for both grief and joy at the same time. The ones who remind me, again and again, that none of us are alone in this.

What started as a search for support became a network of relationships that changed my life.

It’s more than grief. It’s growth.

Through seven fundraising events, we’ve raised over $50,000—with more to come this year. But the impact of this journey can’t be measured in dollars.

It’s in the community that was built. The conversations that continue long after meetings end. The friendships that didn’t just come from infertility—but were strengthened because of it.

Infertility changed me. But it didn’t just take—it gave.

It gave me purpose when I felt lost. It gave me connection when I felt alone. It gave me a passion for helping others navigate one of the most challenging experiences of their lives.

It also gave me people—people who became part of my everyday life, not just my infertility story. My story is more than infertility.

It’s resilience. It’s community. It’s friendship. It’s love in ways I never expected.

It’s the family we built. It’s the people we found along the way. It’s the lasting connections that continue to shape my life, even now.

And it’s still being written.

-Sarah Ekis