I experienced many troubling symptoms myself—heavy menstrual bleeding, severe pain, and fatigue—but, despite multiple doctor visits, my symptoms were often dismissed entirely. Growing up, I saw so much emphasis placed on having a career, professionalism, image, and education. Talking about issues ‘below the belt’ wasn’t something that happened. Despite my mother having similar issues, I was completely unaware that fibroids were something I might have as well. If anything, I thought I was too young.

Determined to find answers, I continued seeking medical advice until I finally received a diagnosis: uterine fibroids. Uterine fibroids are non-cancerous growths that develop in or on the uterus. They can vary in size, from as small as a pea to as large as a melon, and can cause a range of symptoms, including heavy menstrual bleeding, pelvic pain, frequent urination, and complications during pregnancy.

This diagnosis marked the start of a challenging journey filled with surgeries, treatments, and emotional upheaval. I underwent several procedures to remove the fibroids. The road to recovery was long, but it also marked the beginning of a new purpose in my life.

Throughout my journey, I remained focused on raising awareness about fibroids. I realized that my story was not unique; many women, especially African American women, were silently suffering from this condition. Studies show that up to 80% of African American women will develop fibroids by the age of 50, compared to 70% of white women. This realization fueled my passion to advocate for better education, research, and support for women with fibroids.

The more I learned, the more I realized we must normalize health issues like these. We have so many names for our periods to describe something so natural as menstruation. We’re not ashamed of blinking our eyes or using our mouths to speak, which are all functions of the body. So why have we culturally decided that reproductive issues like fibroids shouldn’t be discussed?

In response to my personal battle with fibroids and the overwhelming need for awareness and support, I founded The White Dress Project in 2014. The name “The White Dress Project” symbolizes the freedom and confidence many women with fibroids feel lost due to their condition. Before my diagnosis, I was more focused on the management of my symptoms. Don’t wear white pants. How do I line my underwear, avoid buying cloth seats, and ensure I have mattress covers? I never really dealt with the mechanics of what was happening in my body. We tell ourselves all these things to delay care because we have mastered the management of it. As a result, the mission of “The White Dress Project” is to empower women to reclaim their lives and advocate for a future where no woman suffers in silence.

I remember the first time I went to Capitol Hill and a member of Congress asked, ‘Does anyone die from fibroids?’ First off, you can. If there’s not a direct link, there have been so many studies of fibroids and cardiovascular health or dying from surgery. There is so much that can happen after years of dealing with the symptoms, and I want people to understand their story has power. Our scientists and legislators always want data, and our stories ARE data. We won’t get the research dollars if we don’t advocate for ourselves. I want people to understand that their stories matter and what advocating for yourself means.

Advocate for Yourself

Understanding the symptoms of fibroids, such as heavy menstrual bleeding, pelvic pain, and frequent urination, can help you articulate your concerns clearly to your doctor. Keep a detailed record of your symptoms, including their frequency, duration, and intensity. This information will be valuable during medical consultations and help your doctor diagnose more accurately. Don’t hesitate to ask questions about the potential causes of your symptoms and the various diagnostic tests that can confirm the presence of fibroids, such as ultrasounds or MRIs.

In terms of what those look like when dealing with infertility or reproductive issues, it’s important to show others that you don’t have to look downtrodden or in pain to be taken seriously. You can still look cute and professional and humanize what it means to deal with fibroids. It’s liberating, and your story matters.

Remember, you are your best advocate, and ensuring you receive the appropriate care and treatment is essential for your health and well-being.

Tanika Gray Valbrun, in addition to being a founder of The White Dress Project, is also a RESOLVE Board member. As an award-winning journalist, educator, Tanika’s career has spanned over two decades. She has significantly contributed to women’s health advocacy through her passion for storytelling and commitment to bringing awareness to critical health issues.

I mean, who on Earth would ever say thank you to infertility? You’d have to be crazy to feel grateful for such a dreaded disease that caused a decade of pain and suffering in your life, right?

Well, to be honest with you, during my struggle to start our family, I could never have imagined myself being thankful for my circumstances. Suffice it to say, my journey toward resolution was long and arduous. I struggled with unexplained infertility for a decade of my life and endured seven IVF’s and 40 embryo transfers to have our one and only child.

Time and distance enabled me to embrace my infertility challenges, and I’ve been able to view my struggles through a new lens. Our son is now 26-years old. Most of the stories you read about are written by those in the thick of their battles or are conveyed by new parents. My perspective is unique because I just turned 63 years old, and I still talk and grieve about my journey. However, it is different now.

I could have put my infertility in a box and never shared the overwhelming pain it caused me. However, something inside me nudged me on. I wanted to help others who came after me yet still suffered from the same longing to love a child of their own. After I had our son, I wrote his story so that I would be able to share it with him one day. I knew that time and distance could have clouded my memory, and I wanted him to know how very loved and wanted he was. Soon, I began helping others write their stories so they could pass them on to their children. Sharing stories not only helps others remember their own journey, but also inspires those who are still in the most difficult parts of their treatment. One never knows what nugget of truth someone else can share that may bring hope to others to carry on.

In addition to writing stories, I advocated annually on Federal Advocacy Day. I have been Michigan’s State Captain for four consecutive years, and I loved being a part of a nationwide movement to help pass pro-family legislation to make it easier to realize the dream of having a family.

Over four years ago, I also started my own support group. I led a local Brighton, MI RESOLVE “General Infertility” support group and the “Pregnancy and Parenting After Infertility” support group for my “graduates.” I met incredible women and men who I fondly call “warriors” because they have more courage, perseverance and compassion than one can imagine. I am in awe of them! It is my heart’s desire to help others navigate the emotional side of their journeys because no one should have to struggle alone.

Two years ago, I co-founded the Detroit, MI Walk of Hope, along with LeAndrea Fisher, which was held during NIAW. It is incredibly uplifting to bring hundreds of statewide infertility warriors together to provide support, inspiration and a sense of community. I am so grateful that I have come to know them and understand the most intimate desires of their hearts. I am also thrilled that the fundraising campaign for our walk can give back to RESOLVE, the organization that was my lifeline so many years ago. Helping these warriors has proven to me time and again that there are amazing and wonderful people in our society who are surely a bright and shining light to humankind. It has been an honor and a privilege to know these passionate and loving people and for that, yes – I thank you, infertility!

In my early 20’s, I was embarking on my career path and looking for my purpose in life. I never expected to be diagnosed with endometriosis. After having my first laparoscopy and hearing a doctor say I should consider a hysterectomy, my world was turned upside down. In my mind, my plans were set. I was going to get married and have kids. I was disappointed but determined to get another opinion.

After two more laparoscopies with another doctor, my endometriosis had gone from mild to moderate. It was now spreading to other areas. These appointments landed me with a fertility specialist. After several failed IUI’s and an unsuccessful round of IVF, I was back to square one. This meant another laparoscopy and more trial medications. At that moment, I felt rejected. I felt that my body was rejecting me. I was told I had unexplained infertility, and I had researched everything you can imagine. I spent hours looking for answers, and it was mentally and physically exhausting. I even got a third opinion and attempted more IUI procedures.

My husband and I decided to take a break. We hadn’t given ourselves time to even enjoy our first year of marriage. It was filled with fertility treatments and constant disappointment. I shifted my attention and focused on my marriage and my well-being. Instead of being hyper-focused on tracking my cycles, consulting with doctors, looking for new medications to try, or exploring new diets that might help, I let go.

Letting go is easier said than done, but I found self-care approaches that worked for me. I learned about spiritual healing, and I made myself a priority. I became more empathetic with myself and to those around me. I realized that everyone has a story they carry with them. Infertility opened my eyes to many challenges, but on the other side I found inner strength and acceptance. I’m different today because of it.

We still hung on to hope that we might get pregnant on our own, but it took a back seat. Once we made the decision to let things be, we were able to enjoy life more. My husband and I had countless conversations, and we even met with two adoption agencies. But in the end, we made the decision to enjoy the life we were building together.

The term unexplained infertility never gave me closure, but knowing that I persevered throughout the journey and found a different version of myself along the way – that was my peace and closure. When you accept what is, the internal battle slowly begins to fade and you start enjoying your life in the moment. The battle scars will remain, but your outlook starts to change when you can look at yourself in the mirror and see a stronger, more empathetic version of yourself staring back.

Candice P., NY

These personal stories have been vetted by RESOLVE to ensure that specific products or service providers are not mentioned. RESOLVE does not edit any details provided by the author in regards to their personal choices or belief.

I’m 37. I’ve spent almost my entire 30s doing fertility treatments.

This is not a message to give up. It’s also not a message to keep going, because I can tell you – I’ve been in both places with different outcomes. This is a message of doing what’s right for your body and this moment in time of your life.

At age 29, we decided to try for kids. Not an old age, but right away I knew something was wrong.

“Why is this not working?” said every fertility warrior everywhere.

We did the typical things, talked to the doctors, and ended up doing a round of IVF and – a miracle later! – got pregnant with our awesome baby boy. I get it. We’re lucky. Even with all the trauma, I’m omitting, we’re still lucky.

But… flash forward to kid number two. It should go the same way, right? Wrong. That first round of IVF did not work, which was devastating. I don’t know that I’ve cried harder. It was a glimpse into what many know: IVF is NOT a guarantee. It was a hard lesson to learn. I’ve had to refer back to a post-it note I wrote about these experiences because my brain constantly forgets what I’ve been through.

So here we go with a post-it in hand. Two rounds of IVF and no luck. One hysteroscopy, but nothing was found. Another FET, ERA, FET. No dice. A new retrieval which was miserable (OHSS and 6 liters of fluid removed from around my ovaries) and a vow to never do a retrieval again. Two more FETs with two normal “embabies.” Nothing. And then…Covid.

During that pause period, I felt terrible. I experienced body aches, nausea, etc. It was not fun, but no discernible cause was found. Finally, I did a laparoscopy. They found a massive amount of scar tissue; a huge amount of endo.

The world was on fire. I had to have a second laparoscopy with my fertility doctor and when she woke me up, she declared it the worst of her career (and she’s been doing this for 30 years). In my heart, I said, “Why wasn’t this found sooner?!” In my head, I said, “Thank God you advocated for yourself when no one did.” We did one more FET round with two low mosaics. That was it. No more second chances. I had been through enough. In the end…it didn’t work. I don’t know why. I’ll never know why.

But my body said enough and this time, I listened.

I’ve been a warrior, pushed forward, and persevered with success. I’ve also been a warrior, pushed forward, persevered, and failed. There is no shame in either. No right or wrong.

I’m here to tell you:

YOU are ENOUGH.
YOU’VE done ENOUGH.
YOU are OK.

Whatever that means to you, I want you to know: YOUR choice is the right one. With all the love I can give.

Michelle K., WI

These personal stories have been vetted by RESOLVE to ensure that specific products or service providers are not mentioned. RESOLVE does not edit any details provided by the author in regards to their personal choices or belief.

And it was still beautiful.

Three years after being diagnosed with both male and female infertility, my husband and I made the difficult decision to not pursue alternative paths to parenthood and move forward as a childless couple.

When we made that decision, my mind started spinning. If I’m not a parent, what big thing do I need to do with my life instead? If I can’t give back to humanity by raising a child, what do I need to give to be considered equal to women who are mothers? After rewatching “Up”, I realized my answer is, simply, nothing. I have placed loads of additional pressure on myself to reach an unknown goal because I felt obligated to since I won’t bear a child. Yes, it is a blessing to have extra time, and I would love to give back to society. But, if at the end of my life I can look back on fond memories with my husband, family, and friends, my life is still a life well-lived.

No matter what journey your life is taking through infertility, I want to tell you that your life is well lived. Whether you became a parent, are in the process of becoming a parent, or will not be a parent, your life has meaning and you have a place in this world. Your place in this world is not less because of your infertility.

WeCanALL remember to take up the space we deserve because our lives, regardless of the outcome of the pursuit of parenthood, will be beautiful.

Jenny G., WI

These personal stories have been vetted by RESOLVE to ensure that specific products or service providers are not mentioned. RESOLVE does not edit any details provided by the author in regards to their personal choices or belief.

Over the past eight years, I have not only accepted being childless not by choice, but I have embraced it – committed to redefining childlessness.

You see, much of the world views the childless as sad, bitter, or weird. We are the crazy cat lady (or crazy dog lady, in my case). We – childless by infertility – are often seen as those who “gave up.” After all, why didn’t we just try one more time or try something else, right? Why didn’t we just adopt?

While my childless journey has involved intense grief (in fact, I have wobbles to this day). My journey has also involved finding joy despite being childless not by choice, and one way I have found that joy is by being an over-zealous dog mom. That doesn’t make me weird – just non-traditional. Yes, my non-traditional, childless life embraces all emotions – from intense sadness to overwhelming joy.

This joy does not have to come through accepting the term “childfree.” In fact, I will never identify as “childfree.” I have children in my life – nieces and nephews (by blood, by marriage, and by friendship), a foreign exchange daughter who has become family, and four-legged fur babies (on Earth and in Heaven). And I never want to be “free” of these kids.

I do, however, want the stereotypes about being childless (and childfree) to be broken. A first step towards that is for others to support that being childless is an acceptable resolution to infertility. Because…

WeCanAll educate others that infertility journeys do NOT always end with a little in arms.

WeCanAll support those battling infertility by realizing that difficult decisions – unbearable decisions – must be made. One of those decisions might be letting go of the dream of having a baby.

WeCanAll educate others that adoption is NOT always a viable option. It is NOT easy. It is NOT a back-up plan that every infertile couple should choose.

WeCanAll educate others that childLESS does NOT automatically mean the person is sad, bitter, or depressed. Childless not by choice is a complex journey that comes with grief and sadness. Yet, the childless journey can also involve accepting what is, as well as embracing, redefining, and finding joy.

Brandi L., SC

These personal stories have been vetted by RESOLVE to ensure that specific products or service providers are not mentioned. RESOLVE does not edit any details provided by the author in regards to their personal choices or belief.

What you don’t know about infertility is that there is a woman standing on her front lawn at 9 pm waiting for a shipment of medication with a flashlight because she knows her house number is hard to see, and the next steps in her IVF protocol depend on making sure the medication is delivered. There is a woman spending HOURS on the phone working through issues with insurance companies, scheduling appointments, deciphering diagnosis codes, and following-up on unanswered questions. She jumps every single time the phone rings because it could be a result or a critical callback. There is a woman waking up at 5:30 am in the dead of winter to go get bloodwork done that she knows won’t have a good outcome. That same woman also has to go to work that day, present at a huge meeting, and is thinking of what shirt or blazer she can wear that will cover her bruises from having been stuck with a needle so many times.

What you don’t know about infertility is that while there are many wonderful clinicians, healthcare, and office staff, you will endure a barrage of insensitivity and gaslighting by those that are supposed to help you. There is a woman who goes into an appointment with so much hope and trust, is asked if she wants to hear the heartbeat of her baby only to be told in the next breath, “Good thing we couldn’t hear it – doesn’t seem to be doing so well anyway.” There is also a woman who has to go into the hospital for yet another D&C and has to state what she would like done with the fetal tissue once her uterus has been emptied. She didn’t know that her baby was fetal tissue to be disposed of.

What you don’t know about infertility is that people will say things to you like “Keep your feet up the first 12 weeks next time – you need to rest.” Did her walking around cause her miscarriage? Another fun one: surprise bills that range anywhere from a $50 co-pay to $5,000 and if you don’t pay within a certain time frame, it will delay your cycle or you’ll be told you cannot get the results until everything is “squared away.” She didn’t know steps in her family-building process could be held hostage.

What you don’t know about infertility is that there is a woman that silently wishes for a healthy baby every time the clock hits 11:11. This woman wants nothing more than to go back to her old life – her life where she could trust her body and not feel like a stranger in her own skin.

That woman is me. And now that you have met me, keep me in mind when you are trying to support someone just like me. I just want to live free, outside of the shadows, and #WeCanAll do things to help me, and other women like me, get there.

Elizabeth U., NY

These personal stories have been vetted by RESOLVE to ensure that specific products or service providers are not mentioned. RESOLVE does not edit any details provided by the author in regards to their personal choices or belief.

Dave and Sarah had been struggling to conceive a baby since their wedding seven years ago. We didn’t talk about that every time we picked up the phone. I tried to keep a respectful distance – a balance between allowing them to navigate this journey themselves and letting them know how much we cared – how much we hurt for them — for their frustration, longing, and loss. When I asked the question, he knew I wasn’t asking about his job.

Dave didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared into the bottom of his coffee cup and slowly lifted his head, leveling his gaze at my face. “Not great,” he said with a shrug. And then he started to sob — his shoulders drooping, his entire frame heaving with waves of sadness and grief. I lunged across the space between us and threw my arms around his back. We were a pair of soppy, tear-stained wrecks by the time I managed to speak.

“You know, you don’t always have to be strong,” I said.

“Yes, I do,” he responded.

Dave proceeded to explain that he had to be strong for Sarah. Since she was so deeply burdened with the medical procedures, shots, tests, and mood swings, she needed his consistent support, understanding, patience, and love. She didn’t need the additional angst of his sadness, disappointment or occasional doubt. That morning, his emotions came pouring out — real and raw — dripping with the salty, stinging tears that had been brewing for so many agonizing years. I told him that to best take care of Sarah, he needed to take care of himself. I told him how enormously proud I was of them both and then I let him talk.

That morning I wept with my son not knowing whether he would ever experience the joys of parenthood, wondering how much longer he and Sarah could persevere or how they would come to define family for themselves. That’s the morning I stopped dreaming about a grandchild and began praying that both Dave and Sarah would find a way to be okay. Fortunately, they are more than okay — their dream of having a child made possible through embryo donation. The next time I heard Dave cry was on January 1, 2020, when he called to tell me that Elliot Charles had finally arrived. We sobbed together — a grateful, glorious flood of joy and relief. The jagged edges of so many tumultuous, painful years were suddenly smoothed with this new little life. For Dave and Sarah and their loving extended family, Elliot’s birth was the beginning of a whole new magnificent chapter.

Janet E., NC

These personal stories have been vetted by RESOLVE to ensure that specific products or service providers are not mentioned. RESOLVE does not edit any details provided by the author in regards to their personal choices or belief.

“There must be something in the water because the three of us lovely ladies are all due about a week apart from each other,” she said. This time, my reaction was different. At first, the post annoyed me, and then I felt very frustrated and sad.

“If only,” I thought to myself. “If only there was something as easy as drinking some water that could help me get pregnant.”

Perhaps my reaction was different this time because of all the failed treatments we’d had at that point. Or maybe it was because my next-door neighbor was one of the three ladies in the post. I am sure we drink the same water. It didn’t help.

Many people have no clue what infertility is like. The reality is that when you have infertility, there is no magic “water.” You have to just hope and pray with every treatment that maybe this time it will work. Do you know what it’s like to pay over $27,000 to try to have a baby? That’s just to try and get pregnant. It’s hard, especially when none of the treatments work.

My husband and I started trying to have children shortly after we were married. The months of waiting turned into years and had a huge effect on our lives. We had one pregnancy about two and a half years into our marriage. That pregnancy came after an HSG test (a test to check the fallopian tubes). Unfortunately, I miscarried a short time later. That was the only known pregnancy we have had.

Then my husband lost his job, and we stopped seeing doctors. We saw doctors off and on after that, but financial struggles made it difficult. In 2018, we both went to fertility specialists. Since then, there has been one failed surgery for my husband, and we have done three frozen embryo transfers with donated embryos. Over the years, I’ve also had three surgeries to remove polyps and/or fibroids in my uterus. We are still childless.

#WeCanALL have empathy. It helps to have others be understanding, be aware of or be sensitive to the feelings of those of us going through infertility. Giving advice is not helpful. Listening to our feelings is. Saying things like “I care about you”, “It’s OK to feel this way,” and “I’m here for you” can be helpful. Just having a friend to talk to and to give you a hug when times are tough can be a big help.

My husband and I haven’t decided what is next for us yet. We hope one day we will be able to have a child.

Emily O., UT

These personal stories have been vetted by RESOLVE to ensure that specific products or service providers are not mentioned. RESOLVE does not edit any details provided by the author in regards to their personal choices or belief.

What I want you to know is that endometriosis is not your fault. It is not sexually transmitted, even as someone tried to shame you.

What I want you to know is you are whole. You are deserving of love and happiness. You do not have to apologize for your infertility, revealing your scars as a shameful secret to every potential mate. Your worth and womanhood are not defined by your missing ovary.

What I want you to know is that your fears for the future are valid, even as medical professionals dismiss them because “you are young” or “you have time.”

Dear me at 35,

What I want you to know is this road is long and treacherous. Your resolve will be tested. You will fail. You will fail again. And again. You will give up and you will keep going. Through everything, hope sustains you because love guides you through every fertility treatment, every invasive procedure, and every heartbreak.

What I want you to know is that even in the darkest valley, you know true love. You held true love in the womb and in your arms, you looked true love in the eye, and you had to let true love go. Yet, you carry true love still. True love is your much wanted and so missed son.

What I want you to know is that even when it feels it was all for nothing, true love was worth it all.

Dear me,

What I want you to know is that child loss is infinitely unfair. Child loss after years of infertility is infinitely unfair. What I want you to know is that this is not your fault. You did not cause this, and you do not deserve this; no one does.

What I want you to know is that the secondary losses of friends and family are infinitely unfair, but it is not your responsibility to educate people about grief – you cannot teach empathy and compassion. You do not have to apologize for being changed by your experiences.

What I want you to know (and how I wish I could make it so) is that your arms will one day be full again, whether by the gift of adoption or surrogacy, or on the other side of this life when you get to hold your son again.

Dear me at 45,

What I want you to know is that whenever and however you reach the end of the road of trying, you have done enough.

What I want you to know is that whether you are chasing a beautiful seven-year- old boy around in your heart, or his siblings here on earth, your motherhood is not defined by how many children you have in your arms.

Dear me at 75,

What I want you to know is infertility and child loss are a part of your story – they broke you down and reshaped you – but loss is not your whole story.

What I want you to know is contentment with however the rest of your life unfolded. Life was not easy or fair, and it broke your heart…AND you knew true love.

What I want you to know is that true love has carried you through, and it will carry you from this place to the next.

Jamala A.
Virginia

Jamala is an endometriosis survivor, wife, IVF warrior, and CHD angel mom. Her first child, Jasper, died peacefully in her arms with his daddy holding his hand, and his grandmothers and wonderful care team close by.

Resources

• Endometriosis
• Multiple Miscarriage
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