Our Story (Long Version)

     Adventure. Expedition. Excursion. Voyage. Ride. Perhaps the best word to describe Morgan's and I's story is journey. We've been racking our brain for weeks on how to tell the story of our fertility journey. Should we keep it high level? What details are important? How vulnerable are we willing to be in a public setting? So many questions raced through our heads, almost serving as permission to procrastinate.

     We've been contemplating memories and milestones that stood out. However, when we envisioned sitting down to put all of our thoughts together, we imagined it would be much easier. This is a story about our lives and experiences with fertility. Shouldn’t that be straightforward? Who is better equipped to tell this story than Morgan and I? After reflecting on these questions, we've concluded that starting at the beginning is probably the best approach.

     Morgan and I have been together for 12 years and are approaching our 8th wedding anniversary this September. Part of me wishes I could tell you an epic romantic story of how we met. Perhaps something where I’m a bull rider and after a terrible injury in a local rodeo, I’m rushed to the hospital... and that’s where I met nurse Morgan, as she was cleaning the hole the bull’s horn left in my leg, we locked eyes... and the rest is history. I’ll keep workshopping that idea 😊.

      The truth is, I was just a bored college kid scrolling through social media. We were early adopters of meeting our significant others online. We didn’t need Tinder, Bumble, Christian Mingle, FarmersOnly.com, or whatever the kids are using nowadays. It was much simpler; we used Facebook to play Farmville and meet our future spouses. Thanks, Zuckerberg! 

     I came across Morgan’s Facebook profile a couple of times and thought, "Wow, that girl is beautiful," but unfortunately, she was already Facebook official with her boyfriend at the time. So, I bided my time, checked in occasionally, and then one day it happened—relationship status: SINGLE! That’s when I knew it was time to shoot my shot. I deliberated all day on what to send her but finally decided to keep it simple and sent her a private message saying, “Hey, do I know you?” I know what you must be thinking, “Wow, he’s smooth as silk.” I just want to say thank you, I thought I was smooth at the time too. 

      Looking back at that message now, we both wonder why she even responded, but luckily she did. One message turned into texting, phone calls, movies, county fairs, dates, becoming official, meeting new families and friends, celebrating birthdays, parties, vacations, graduations, engagements, marriages, jobs, cars, owning a home, adopting three dogs, gaining two nieces, one nephew, and, most importantly, finding someone we couldn’t live without. In short, one Facebook message turned into our journey.

     While we know there is still a lot of our story left to tell and so much more life to experience, there seems to be only one thing missing: our time to become parents. Our desire to become parents brought us to this moment and ultimately drove us to agree to tell our story and attempt to fundraise to make our dream come true. We've shared many wonderful milestones we’ve reached in our relationship, and there are countless others we can’t include for the sake of time. We both recognize that in many ways, we have a nearly perfect life and we don’t want to sound ungrateful. However, over the last six years, amid all the highs, we’ve had to face the same reality again and again—we aren’t pregnant.

     We don’t want it to seem like we’ve had only negative experiences during this time. There have been hopeful times and moments of incredible gratitude throughout our fertility journey. Yet, it would also be dishonest of us not to acknowledge that this experience has been the most challenging thing we've have faced as a couple. 

     We want to share what the last six years have been like for us for three important reasons. First, because before this, we had no idea how challenging it could be for some couples to become parents. Growing up, it feels like we’re taught that a glance in the wrong direction can lead to a baby. However, the reality is that many couples are going through what we are right now. 

     Second, as we write this, we've realize how cathartic it is. Sharing our story feels like it may help liberate us from some of the pain, anxiety, and hopelessness we’ve felt. 

     Third, and most importantly, we want everyone to know that we truly exhausted as many options as we could afford financially and emotionally. Swallowing your pride and asking for help isn’t easy. However, after much encouragement from our family and friends, we acknowledged that needing help isn’t a weakness. We know we have a large network of people who care for us and want this for us almost as much as we do.

      In our first paragraph, we ended by stating that we should start at the beginning. We hope we've given you revealing insights into the beginning of our relationship and what has led us to this moment. However, we also want to share our story from the beginning of our six-year journey to become parents. That’s the essence of why we are writing this and why we’re starting to fundraise. 

     When we did the math before writing this, it seems crazy that it has truly been six years. I’ll be 33 at the end of July, and Morgan is currently 32. If you had asked us six years ago what our family would look like, we would have said we hoped to have two kids and ideally be done by age 30. Looking back, it’s amusing because it shows how naïve we were when we started trying. 

     When we talked about having kids, we discussed things like hoping to conceive in the fall for summer babies so they would be older in their class. We loved the idea of having twins and wondered about their interests—whether they would be academic, athletic, musical, or some combination. We were so concerned about these external factors that we now realize don’t matter, simply because we weren’t prepared for what was to come.

      This brings us to late fall of 2018, when we decided we were ready to start trying. At this point, we had been married for two years and had been in our Monrovia home for about a year and a half. Neither of us had any reason to think there would be issues getting pregnant. There was no family history of infertility in our immediate family, so we expected to conceive within a couple of months. We tried for about four months before we started looking online for assistance. If you’ve gone through the initial phases of trying to conceive, you might be familiar with the entire industry that exists around timing things perfectly. We tried multiple apps and received a lot of advice from different people. This continued for a year before we ultimately sought a physician’s help.

      Last night, we attempted to condense the remaining five years of treatment and testing and realized we might be going overboard when we had only reached the halfway mark and added three pages to our Word document. After sleeping on it, we believe we have a better way to condense our story.

      Here's what you need to know: First, Morgan is the strongest woman I know. The amount of poking, prodding, testing, procedures, and treatment she has endured is excessive and unfair. I wish I could take it all away and go through it myself, but for obvious reasons, that's not possible. All I can do is continue to support her and be here for her as we navigate this journey together. After much thought, we believe breaking the rest of our story down into a list will not only allow you to see the full extent of what we've been through but also present it concisely.

Here's a snapshot of the last six years:

• Physicians: Morgan has seen four different OBGYNs during this process, each time being referred to a new provider as we completed new treatments.
• Testing: She’s undergone an abdominal/pelvic MRI, a hysterosalpingogram, and a CT scan of her brain and thyroid.
• Labs: We are hesitant to guess how many times she has had her blood drawn over the past six years, but estimate well over 40 times.
• Medications: Early in this process, she underwent eight cycles of different ovulation medications. However, the bulk of medications came from multiple IUIs and IVF cycles we attempted. This includes numerous oral medications and several injectable medications. At its peak during an IVF cycle, she would take two oral medications in the morning, receive one injection from me, and then in the evening, another three injections and two more pills. This doesn’t include daily prenatal vitamins and everything else she has been taking to enhance our chances.
• Ultrasound Visits: We’ve both lost track during this process. Between diagnostic ultrasounds and those checking the progress of IUIs and IVFs (usually 3-5 per cycle), we estimate she’s had at least 50.
• Surgeries: She underwent an outpatient laparoscopy to rule out endometriosis, thankfully finding almost none.
• IUI Procedures: Typically the precursor to IVF, Morgan began six IUI cycles, successfully proceeding with the procedure on four of the attempts.
• IVF Procedures: Most recently, we’ve undergone demanding IVF cycles. In total, we started five cycles and completed the entire process once. The successful cycle occurred in 2022 through a partial grant we received based in Cincinnati.

      Listing everything this way feels like we are slightly underselling everything we've had to attempt. There’s a larger story here that not only highlights the total number of times we've tried new treatments but also shares how we both felt throughout. While we consider ourselves generally optimistic people, this has tested our optimism at many points. We fluctuate between hope and disappointment, with barely enough time to process each month's outcome before gearing up for the next round of treatments, medications, and procedures—it’s exhausting. Yet, despite all the failures, tears, heartaches, and moments of loneliness, we remain optimistic for one simple reason: we will never give up.

      Which brings us to our current situation. Morgan’s OBGYN has informed us that we have a few options left. Our first option is to use an egg donor to complete the IVF process, as Morgan’s diagnosis prevents her from producing viable eggs. Using a donor would allow us to choose someone with similar characteristics to Morgan. While using my genetics. This would still enable her to carry the baby, an experience we both would cherish. 

    Our second option is to attempt an embryo transfer. This would look very similar to option one, with the major difference being that it would not have my genetics. 

    Our third option is to proceed directly to adoption. We are not opposed to this option but need to decide, guided by our doctor, what’s best for our future family. Ultimately, our decision will hinge on our upcoming consults with her OBGYN. Regardless of which option we choose, it won’t be inexpensive, likely costing another $25,000 to $30,000.

      We’ve worked hard to find silver linings, and one thing we both agree on is that we are much better prepared to be parents now than we were at the beginning of this journey. We understand what a privilege it is to become parents. Our only wish is to love our child unconditionally and provide everything they need to thrive and become their best selves. We want our child to feel supported in exploring the world, pursuing interests without pressure, and understanding what healthy relationships look like. Above all, we want to raise a child who is resilient and strives to leave the world a better place.

      We are immensely grateful for the love and support we’ve received throughout this process. Please keep an eye out for invitations to upcoming events where we will be fundraising for whichever option we decide to pursue. Most importantly, the events will be an opportunity for us to express our gratitude to friends and family for being a part of our lives. We will also provide updates on future appointments and our progress in the blog portion of our site. If you’ve made it this far, we want to personally thank you. It means a lot to both of us that you took time out of your busy day to read our story. If you are experiencing something similar, please know you are not alone. Morgan and I are here and willing to listen if you need to talk.