How to Begin Sharing Your Story
The Lesson Learned
A good rule of thumb for storytelling is this: sharing is caring. If at least one other person could benefit from your story, sharing your experience (only if you want to, of course) is a simple yet extraordinary way to create trust, connection, and hope.
There isn’t a perfect place or time to begin sharing your own story. Sometimes you just have to start. And when your husband creates the most epic cake you’ve ever seen, that could be a good place.
The Journey
This isn’t a story about cake. Though yes, my husband Alex made that one in the photo and it was spectacular.
This is a story about the last three years of love, loss, family, strength, failure, and hope — things we don’t usually talk about in public spaces. Alex would say it’s about Wonder Woman (me), but I disagree. It’s about our community.
The last three years have tested us like we did not know was possible. If you know me, you know that I am a determined person (my parents may call this stubborn, but again I disagree). By the age of two, I had earned the nickname Lane the Lawyer. When I put my mind toward something, I work incredibly hard to achieve it.
In January 2020, Alex and I decided we wanted to start a family. What began as a year with grand expectations and goals turned into quite the opposite for so many. A few months later, in the midst of a new pandemic, we were told that we have a 3% chance of having children naturally. And we did the only thing we knew how to do: we got to work.
We never expected this to be our journey, and as I’ve come to learn, most people don’t. Infertility affects an estimated 1 in 5 women, yet everything I learned in school or from my medical providers was about how to prevent having kids, not how to have them.
The last three years have been filled with numbers:
1 IVF cycle
2 failed transfers
3 surgeries (and zero memories of them!)
5 miscarriages
6 frozen embryos
31 eggs
38 months of waiting
Dozens of tests (and margaritas!)
Hundreds of injections (and hours of butt jokes!)
Thousands of dollars
Countless doctor’s visits
Immeasurable support from family, friends, and strangers
And yet, zero answers.
The last three years have been filled with loss:
Life
Plans
Expectations
Control
Freedom
Privacy
Normalcy
And at times, hope.
The last three years have been filled with love:
My whole family and in-laws moved to Texas.
Alex became my caregiver, medical assistant, and more.
Our friends showed us so much support I have cried more tears of happiness than sadness.
George, our newest rescue pup, brought more joy to our lives than I ever thought one creature could do.
The greatest gift of this journey has been meeting others along the way who are experiencing the same things. Through their stories, I have learned that we are not alone, that there are options, and that a family is what you make it.
This isn’t a story about cake. It’s about starting another year without a baby, and the odd mixture of immense gratitude and frustration that I never knew could coexist. I don’t know what the next three years hold, but I am forever grateful for those who have navigated these last three alongside me — and I like to think that sharing my story is one small way to pay it forward.