“Shouldn’t you have children by now?”

Patti was a 2025 recipient of a partial INCIID IVF Scholarship.

Do you want kids?
Shouldn’t you have children by now?
How many do you have?

That’s when our journey began.

We believed it would unfold the way our other plans had—with patience, effort, and time. Around us, friends welcomed their first child… then their second… then their third. We tracked basal body temperatures. Counted days. Used ovulation strips. Watched calendars.

Cousins who once said they didn’t want children at all began growing families of their own.

Every month, I waited.
Every month, my period came.

I told myself it would happen. I believed patience had always worked for us before. Still, quiet regrets began to surface. If we had tried earlier—before degrees were finished, before careers were established, when I was younger—maybe we’d already be walking a child into elementary school. Maybe even middle school.

Eventually, we sought medical guidance.

The tests began.
A semen analysis—normal.

Bloodwork—normal.

A saline infusion sonogram—just to be sure.

Part of me hoped something would show up. Not because I wanted bad news, but because I wanted answers. Something tangible. Something we could fix.

My OB-GYN said both tubes looked open and mentioned that sometimes pregnancy happens in the months that follow. I held onto that hope. But months passed, and nothing changed.

Admitting we needed more help was difficult. Talking about seeing a fertility specialist took time. We eventually decided to try IUI.

Around that same time, my brother and sister-in-law shared the news of their first pregnancy—and they chose us to hear it first. I was genuinely grateful for that trust. Truly happy for them.

But I’ll never forget what my sister-in-law said quietly, almost apologetically:

“I’m sorry… we caught up to you.”

They were newly married. New homeowners. And yet she felt the need to apologize for her joy because she knew how long we had been hoping.

I reassured her—and meant it. But in the weeks that followed, I struggled. Not with resentment toward them, but with guilt over my own sadness. I showed up. I supported them. I celebrated them. Even when it hurt.

We tried three IUIs.
Each one brought hope.
Each one ended in disappointment.

Once again, the tests told the same story: everything looked normal. A second semen analysis—normal. Ultrasounds during the IUI process looked promising. And still, no explanation.

That kind of uncertainty is its own form of grief.

As we began preparing for IVF, another reality set in—one that so many families face quietly. The emotional toll of infertility is heavy, but the financial burden can be overwhelming. For many couples, the cost of treatment—especially medications—becomes an impossible barrier before they ever have a chance to try.

That’s when we found INCIID.

INCIID didn’t ask us to explain our timeline or justify our choices. They listened. Through their IVF Medication Scholarship Program, made possible through a long-standing partnership with Serono, we were offered something we hadn’t felt in a long time: relief.

Not just financial relief—though that mattered more than words can say—but emotional relief. Support without judgment. Compassion without conditions.

INCIID never promised us a child. What they gave us was the ability to keep going. To take the next step without the weight of feeling alone.

We don’t know how our story will end. But we know this: kindness matters. Support matters. And no one should have to carry this journey by themselves.

We are still here.
Still choosing each other.
Still hoping.

And because of organizations like INCIID, our hope has room to breathe.