Devastated by infertility or pregnancy loss?

Few things challenge your will — to believe, to endure — the way these traumas do. Learn how to keep hope alive by entering your email address below.



The Day I Lost My Daughter

Since July 2016, my wife, Emily, and I have been trying -- and failing -- to expand our family.

We’ve endured multiple pregnancy losses, repeated IVF cycles and the unending, soul-crushing uncertainty that our luck will ever change.

Yet, despite the occasional descent into doubt and darkness, we haven’t given up hope that one day we will become parents -- even in the face of unspeakable tragedy.

On April 13, 2018, during Emily’s third pregnancy, we went in for her 20-week anatomy scan. It was the closest to term she’d ever been, and we couldn’t have been more excited.

After all, we were going to see our daughter in 3D. We were going to see her face, and her femurs, and all four chambers of her heart.

Then, suddenly, our elation turned to devastation.

The doctor told us our baby was the victim of a lethal genetic abnormality -- an abnormality that occurs in 1 in 35,000 pregnancies. And this time, we were the “1.”

That moment, and the aftermath that followed, were as awful as you’d expect, especially because we’d been convinced we had already hit our rock bottom.

This third pregnancy? This was supposed to be our fairy tale ending -- until it ended in disaster.

Through much of this pregnancy process, through all the setbacks and trauma and heartbreak, I remained silent. Friends and family would ask me how things were going and what I’d been up to, and I would lie, either by omission or out of evasion.

The truth, it just felt too private, too personal to share. So I didn’t.

And it’s a decision I regret.

Back in September 2016, on the morning we found out Emily’s first pregnancy would end in miscarriage, the doctor encouraged us to talk to others about what had happened. She said a lot of people don’t like to discuss fertility issues, and understandably so. But because of that, this lack of dialogue can make you feel that much more alone.

It’s a feeling with which I became all too familiar. And it’s a feeling I’d now like to ensure others avoid.

That’s why I’ve created this community.

By sharing every facet of my struggles, my hope is that I can help you get through yours.

To keep hope alive and to keep pushing forward, click the button below.