This year marks four years on this journey. I’ve always seen myself as a strong person—grounded, resilient, with a personality that can weather most storms. But infertility has humbled me in ways I never imagined. It has found the cracks I didn’t know existed and worn me down slowly, quietly, relentlessly.

Over these years, I’ve carried so much hope as we explored every possible option, every procedure, every “maybe this will be the one.”

In Alberta, we face this without financial support, the only province that offers no assistance to families trying to build a life. After years of reshaping our lives, sacrificing, and saving every dollar, we put everything we had—$22,000—into IVF, because it was our only path forward with an unexplained infertility diagnosis.

When we finally reached the end of that road, it ended in the most devastating way imaginable: no embryos. I am heartbroken in a way that’s hard to put into words. Hearing the doctor say I might be “too old” at 38 cut deeply…those words linger, heavy and painful.

I don’t want to give up. That desire is still alive in me. But the reality is sobering. I don’t know how to keep a basic life afloat while trying to save for another round of IVF. The emotional weight is crushing, and the financial strain feels impossible. I’m trying to hold on to hope, even as it feels painfully out of reach.