Resources: General

PFM Blog-

Stirrup Queens-


Creating A Family-

The Cade Foundation-

Resources: Infertility

Assisted Reproductive Technology-

RESOLVE, The National Infertility Association-

The Infertility Awareness Project-

The American Fertility Association-

Society for Reproductive Technology-

Infertility Blog-

Infertility Education-

Fertility Authority

Fertile Hope

American Society for Reproductive Medicine

PFM Blog

Resources: Adoption

Adoptive Families Magazine-

Hillside Family of Agencies-

Creating a Family-

Tapestry Books- complete resource for adoption books-

Orphan Doctor-

Adoption Blogs-

Jewish Family Services of Rochester-

Children Awaiting Parents-

Adoption STAR-

Resources 4 Adoption-


PFM Essay Contest Winners

A look at the pain of infertility through other people’s stories.


Face of Infertility– by Michelle

1 in 6 women experience infertility.

I AM that 1.

1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. I AM that 1.

But I’M NOT a statistic!

I’M a wife of a wonderful husband, who would make a great father! She wonders why he stays when she’s the one that is broke. Why should his dream be denied? I’m sorry for that.

I’M a daughter who would love to give her mother a grandchild. A daughter that loves her mother and knows she too is in pain because I’m in pain but there is nothing I can do about it. I’m sorry for that.

I’M a sister whose best friend is her sister. A sister who both times she heard “I’m pregnant” was happy for her but sad for herself. Who rejoiced over the birth of her nephews while on the inside thinking, “why can’t this be me?.” I’m sorry for that.

I’M a granddaughter who fears that her grandmother will never meet her great grandchildren. They will never know this strong woman that I know. I’m sorry for that.

I’M an Aunt who loves her nephews as if they were her own. Who hugs them tight because she remembers she was supposed to have one the same age and wonders what they’d be like.

I’M a Friend who needs her friends more now then ever before. I will love you and listen to you, but can’t come to every baby shower because it hurts too much. I’m sorry for that.

I’M a Woman who can’t do what women were born to do and my heart’s broken. A women who will comfort you, laugh and cry with you, but right now needs to do these things for herself. I’m sorry for that.

I’M the girl behind you in the checkout line buying a pregnancy test with excitement and dread because she knows it probably didn’t happen this month. If it did there is much that can go wrong. I’m worried about that.

I’M the person that cut you off on the road because my mind was racing because I wonder if the spotting I saw this afternoon was notice of impending doom. I’m sorry for that.

I’M your neighbor who doesn’t always seem friendly. I can’t always come over to your kids parties because it’s just too hard right now. I’m sorry for that.

I’M your patient. A patient whose happiness depends on the news you give her. If I react badly, it’s not a reflection of your abilities, it’s a reflection of my inabilities. I’m sorry for that.

I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m confused. I hurt. I cry. I yell. I make mistakes.

I love. I laugh. I’m strong. I will heal. I will move one step at a time. I WILL do all these things. I AM all these things. I FEEL all these things because of the one thing that I’m NOT…a mother and I’m most sorry for that!


Essay by Mr. Shelby

I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on the “weight of the wait.” Shelby and I are in a precarious stage of part acceptance, part denial. Acceptance; we’re pregnant, and about to hit the second trimester. Denial; it’s too good to be true and fate is cruel. After 5 years, 7 IUI’s and 1 IVF, we’re pregnant. It has not been an easy road. We had miscarriage a year ago. Shelby carried our bean for a month longer than it was on earth, and it was a crushing blow. A second loss, this far along will be devastating to us. I try not to fathom it but I can’t help but go over the future and how it would change.

Losing our last bean brought my world crashing down. I was unable and unwilling to take part in family events. I couldn’t bring myself to see my cousin’s new baby. It was a harsh reminder of something that came so easily to them. Our bean would have been born early January, and theirs was born in September. We talked about how wonderful it will be to see our kids grow up together. Now, to me, their baby is just a physical reminder of our loss. Times like this make me hate the way infertility has changed me. I’m petty and selfish and missing my cousin.

Today, I feel that there is so much riding on our little gummy. There’s major life events coming up, and Shelby’s pregnant belly plays a huge part. It completes everything.

Mainly it’s about my brother who is getting married in September. They’ve announced their intentions to conceive immediately. The part whose been trying to have a baby for so long will be crushed by being robbed of being the first. If they don’t conceive quickly, I’ll hurt knowing their pain of infertility. It’s something I don’t wish upon anyone, let alone my brother and his new family. I’m in a constant state heaviness, but none of it could compare to the agony of a second loss.

Mostly, I fear for myself, and for Shelby. We’ll withdraw from life. We’ll take part in none of these events. I’ll be angry at myself for letting infertility claim even more of myself. I won’t want to go anywhere, do anything, or see anyone. I fear how long that will last. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years will be non-existent. I’ll be a hermit. It will kill family to see this, but it will have to be done.

On the flip side, the timing is perfect. I’m euphoric. Even spending that 15k more than we needed to (shared risk) seems fitting to me. The infertility gods wouldn’t give up the opportunity to stick it to us one last time, but surely this is where it stops, right?

Fate, I’m on my hands and knees, begging you to let me experience this year of happy times.

You’re not cruel enough to rob us of these happy times, and of parenthood.

Are you?