Twelve years ago, my husband Chad and I made the heart-wrenching decision to end our IVF journey without the hoped-for, prayed-for, and paid-for result of babies. At the time, as we worked to build our family through gestational surrogacy, I wasn’t deeply involved in the infertility and loss community. Back then, the silence around these topics felt deafening and suffocating, and honestly, I was just trying to survive the journey without being completely and utterly destroyed. Between managing the financial strain, scheduling appointments, dealing with legal matters, and holding my marriage together—all while navigating the emotional rollercoaster of synthetic hormones—I felt like I barely had time to breathe.

We heard the words, “I’m sorry. She is not pregnant,” twice over the phone.

The first time, I had to fight the urge to vomit into my office trash can as I watched Chad physically hold back his tears, trying to keep it together for me. In the darkness of losing our two babies, we found the strength to try again, even though we had no idea how we’d afford it. The second time we heard those crushing words, we knew it was final—our journey was over. And though it wasn’t the answer we wanted; it was the answer we needed.

Our family would be just us. Just us here, and our three in heaven. And somehow, we would have to find a way to heal and parent them from afar.

When we were in it, I didn’t know the statistics. I didn’t realize just how many people were affected by infertility and loss. We felt so alone, and so different.

And then I found Share Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support—this incredible organization run by an even more incredible group of women. At first, I wasn’t sure if I would even belong at Share. Doubts plagued me: Did I fit in? We just did IVF. We never even got pregnant. They were only embryos. The love, support, and care I received from Share squashed those doubts right away.

Our three were our chance to become parents. The moment we began the impossible journey of IVF, the moment we dreamed of becoming parents, we became parents. And even though all I thought we would have to show for their existence are grainy black-and-white pictures of three embryos—pictures that don’t even tell me their genders—they are our children. With the help of Share, we were able to honor that truth. They’d be twelve this year. They are my forever wonders and what ifs. They made me a mother. And the gift of them and the loss of them have helped me to create this life that I love full of grief and joy in every moment.

Through the love and community at Share, I’ve not only found my place, but I’ve discovered a way to give back to the community of infertility and loss. I’m so thankful and proud of the work that Share does to support families who have experienced the ground-shaking loss of a baby. They care for families through the early, suffocating darkness of grief, through to the lifelong journey of living in honor of our children. Their education and support reach so many, teaching others how to love, support, and care for those of us who live without our children here on earth.

This vital work needs the support of our community. I know life is a lot right now, and resources may feel tight, and I’m asking if you would be willing to give something—anything—to this incredible organization. Your donation makes a real difference in helping families know they are never alone in their grief. Perhaps you could give in honor of someone you know who is walking this life without their baby. Because I promise you, this affects someone you know.

Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for loving us. Thank you for asking about our babies. And thank you for supporting Share Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support.

With all the love,

Justine Froelker