My Path to becoming an Advocate in honor of National Infertility Awareness Week
How my struggles to become a mother led me to become an advocate for infertility
When Carolina was an infant, and I finally accepted that she was here—and wouldn’t be taken away by an untimely death—I decided it was time to give back. I was so incredibly grateful for her, yet also resentful that the path to having her was so traumatic, financially burdensome, and isolating. I wanted to do something to make it easier for people who desperately wanted to become parents but kept hitting brick walls. Yet, I didn’t know how to help.
Despite having been around for decades, I had never heard of Resolve.org. The hashtag #TTC (trying to conceive) hadn’t yet become a phenomenon, and no podcasts were dedicated to the subject. I noticed that a group called “Men Having Babies” was holding a surrogacy conference in midtown Manhattan, and I registered to attend. I stood at the back of the room, having slipped in after the conference had started as the host introduced a woman, Risa Levine. She was a lawyer and advocate for Resolve, who was fighting to legalize surrogacy in New York State. I was captivated, and she hadn’t yet said a word.
As she spoke, I felt my body tingle with excitement—she was doing what I wanted to become involved in. After she left the podium, she walked past the audience and joined the small group where I stood. As the host introduced the next panel of speakers, I whispered to her, “That was incredible. I’m Lia, a mother through surrogacy. I would love to get involved in advocacy—can you tell me where I should start?”
“Join Resolve. We need you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I will.”
Since then, I’ve advocated countless times for Resolve and have gotten to know Risa better. She went through infertility for years and never had the baby she so desperately wanted. I am in awe of her strength and determination to make it easier for others—I couldn’t even consider how I could give back until Carolina was here.
Several years ago, Andrea Syrtash invited me to write a piece for her site, Pregnantish, which you can read here. It details the losses my husband and I suffered and the incredible people who supported us as we finally welcomed our daughter, Carolina.
Today is the first day of National Infertility Awareness Week. Now more than ever, we need individuals to share their stories and write to their representatives to tell them how much coverage and support mean to them. If you’re someone who has been impacted by infertility—or if you know someone who has, consider any of the following:
1- Volunteer with Resolve and ASRM. On May 20th, Resolve and ASRM are hosting their annual virtual Advocacy Day. It’s an opportunity to join hundreds of volunteers across the US and meet with your state representatives to help them better understand the issues our community is facing. You can sign up here.
2-Invite a Fertility Professional to Advocate: ASRM (The American Society of Reproductive Medicine) partners with Resolve to host Advocacy Day. As of April 20th, just one month from Advocacy Day, thirteen states are still without representation. If you know a fertility professional who lives in Hawaii, Vermont, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Delaware, North Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Oklahoma, Kansas, New Mexico, or Arkansas, send them this link and ask them to participate in Virtual Advocacy Day.
3- Participate in a NIAW event in your area. If you’re in New York City, I’ll be walking in Central Park with the Conceive Community. Join me! Details for the NYC and all other events can be found here.
Thank you for your support and for being here.
See you next week!
Words of the Week
"While people may survive infertility, they never really move on. The scars, even when one experiences success, remain; faded perhaps, but always there." —Risa Levine
Photo of the Week
Environmentalists: look the other way!
Earlier this week, Carolina and I spent time on the North Fork of Long Island—an escape to nature and respite from city living. We drove to the very end of the Island, Orient Point, for a picnic lunch on the beach. The parking lot sits between hills of dunes crafted by the town to combat nature’s powerful beach erosion. The dunes must be 20 feet high, and from the beach, they blocked the view of the parking lot, making the beach feel more remote than it actually is.
The signs were clear, “Do not climb on the dunes,” and at 6 1/2, Carolina could certainly read them. But the moment I turned my back on her to pack our things and return to the car, I heard squeals of laughter. She was out of sight, but I knew exactly where she was. I ran to the parking lot, and sure enough, a trail of freshly displaced dirt revealed the source of her joy.
It happened too fast for me to stop her—as she slid down again, I snapped this photo capturing one of the happiest expressions I’ve seen on her in a long time.
Love the picture! Because sometimes pure joy springs from violating the rules. xox
Your courage and energy are inspiring.