Campaign Story

Michael & I met on a blind date in November 2016 (he sent me a text message to invite me to kayak over Thanksgiving week, and because he used a semi-colon properly, as an English teacher, I decided to give him a chance). Our first date lasted precisely 3 hours long; at the 3 hour point, he jumped out of his kayak, told me it was time to leave, and took me back home (I would later find out he had recently read an article in Men’ s Health magazine that said first dates should only be 3 hours long, and as a rule follower who loves math and statistics, he held to that standard).

I had known about Michael’s history with lymphoma, and had wondered about his fertility situation when we first met, but my friend’s husband told me I could absolutely not ask about that until 6 months into dating. Well, exactly 6 months into dating, we attended CancerCon in Denver (Michael also worked for and volunteered at First Descents, a non-profit that provides outdoor adventures to young adults impacted by cancer), and Michael mentioned to some other participants he had samples on ice. While slightly awkward, it was also a huge relief to know there was at least some kind of possibility of offspring in the future.

Fast forward to 2019, we bought a house, adopted a dog, and in 2022 on the anniversary of our first kayaking date, we solidified everything with getting married.

Michael was diagnosed with Burktt’s Lymphoma in 2014, just a few months after he graduated from CSU. He began treatment in October 2014, spent 6 months, and was “released” into the real world in January 2015. For young adults, this can be a jarring and disorienting experience: you’ve just faced your own death, you’ve been isolated from the world while undergoing treatment to prevent infection, and then you are dumped back on the streets, expected to pick up where you left off while all of your friends have been climbing the corporate ladder in their jobs–expect you are no longer that original version of yourself.

What I’ve witnessed is cancer robs a young adult of many things: friends, dignity, future plans, and in this case, time. For Michael, this meant his dream of becoming a commercial aviator. Prior to his diagnosis, his plan had always been to enlist in the military for pilot training, but cancer also robbed him of that dream.

For the next few years, Michael worked at a local brewery, and I worked (and still do) as an English teacher. One day, after a chance conversation with a friend of ours (who recently finished pilot school), we learned that airlines were offering incentive programs for people to go through pilot training in order to fulfill an increase in vacancies. Michael enrolled, began pilot training in April 2022, excelled in every single aspect of the program, worked relentlessly to fly his 1500 hours, and in June 2025, became eligible for jobs as a commercial pilot–he is now just awaiting a class date.

Side note: Michael is exactly the person you want flying your plane: as noted above, he loves rules and procedures (he does not let you cheat at Scrabble), he has acumen for navigation and math (this comes from his outdoorsman background), and his demeanor is logical, calm, and analytical (is absolutely the guy you want to get stuck on a 14er with when a storm rolls through).

We knew, in order for Michael to be most successful in achieving his lifelong dream, starting a family would absolutely not be a wise idea while he was in pilot training; in order to support us, I signed up for extra roles and duties at my school as well as picked up shifts at the yoga studio I taught at; I assumed all of the responsibilities of being the household manager so that he could study and focus on flying.

We also knew, based on his history, we would eventually need to seek fertility treatment; as soon as he finished his hours in June 2025, we reached out to a reproductive endocrinologist. And, after a few months and the extensive testing, in January 2026, we decided the next step needed to be IVF.

While we are aware we will not be perfect parents, we do also know that we have the ability to raise a child in a loving home (and yes, we know our dog is overweight because we love her so much, but I promise I have the ability to hold boundaries with actual humans). Being a high school teacher, this upcoming generation gives me so much hope for the future of our world–they care about the environment, they care about their health, they care about each other, they see the value in connection and empathy, they know how to advocate for themselves, and I would love nothing more than to help contribute to providing more light to a world that otherwise can feel drab.

When I first learned about our fertility diagnosis, I cried (well, actually, I first said some expletives and then I cried), but then I got angry: how many other generations of women have sat in our same position, with no information about why they can’t conceive–other than just being told they are “infertile”, and “dried up”? I hope that one result of our journey is to educate and to raise awareness towards fertility related to cancer and also to women’s health. Michael feels strongly about educating young adults impacted by cancer with their fertility preservation options prior to beginning treatment. For women, many of the initial diagnostics I underwent are simple blood tests that could be offered to women if they know the tests exist–while hormone testing, genetic testing, and IVF may not be a preferable choice for all, women should at least be aware of these options so that they can plan for their futures as well. It is hard to know that, had we done testing in 2022, 2019, or even 2016 when we first met, if anything would have changed, but what we do know now is, because we are in the magical window of 35 and 36 years old, this is the time we must pursue IVF: we feel fortunate to live in a state that offers fertility benefits and houses some of the best fertility clinics in the nation that can guide us through the upcoming months.