Katy Seppi

You show up:

On my feed with ads disguised as funny memes and images of pregnant bellies.

At our consultations, so excited to be a part of our journey to parenthood. We're so tired but you convince us to let hope back in, because this time will be different.

At each appointment where we wait, looking at the sea of baby faces covering every inch of your walls. Each face a dream fulfilled.

At every blood draw, urine sample, ultrasound, and invasive procedure. You poke and prod, promising answers to why this hasn't happened for us.

With updates on our FSH, LH, Estradiol, AMH, semen, and follicles.

To tell us when and how to use the suppositories and needles that arrive in intimidating quantities.

As the last face we see before being put under for egg retrieval.

To talk through how we'll pay the $12,000-$20,000 for this slim chance at our bundle of joy. Credit? Check? 2nd mortgage? Loan? Family gift? Payment plan?

With a call to let us know that no-we will not be having a baby. And then you stop showing up.

While we process what's likely the worst news we've ever been given. The life we had envisioned for ourselves is gone. Hope fled. We are childless.

You are about to meet your next client. Who is sitting in your waiting room, surrounded by a sea of baby faces, gripping hope.

I would really like to know, how are you supporting your patients who leave your care without a baby?