My endometriosis journey began years before I ever received a diagnosis. I first experienced severe pelvic pain, painful periods, fatigue, bloating, and other symptoms that increasingly interfered with my daily life when I was 16. I missed a lot of school. I couldn’t participate in extracurriculars. To complicate matters, my cycle was irregular, showing up some months and not others. A doctor put me on hormones to try to even things out, but that only made things worse.
In 2019, at the age of 22, I joined the Air Force as an engineering technician. As an active-duty member, I repeatedly sought medical care through military providers wherever I was stationed—here in the U.S. and overseas in Europe—but my symptoms were continually dismissed or minimized. I was often told my pain was normal, stress-related, or that there was no clear explanation for what I was experiencing. Deep down, I knew something was wrong, but it would take years of advocating for myself before I was finally heard.
One of the most devastating parts of my journey was infertility. Nobody could explain it, and I spent three years undergoing IVF treatments that included three egg retrievals, one miscarriage, and three failed embryo transfers. It was all emotionally overwhelming, but the worst was the last egg transfer. Before I had it, I had researched my symptoms and felt that I likely had endometriosis. I asked the doctor for surgery, but I was told to do one more egg transfer. If it failed, they’d consider surgery.
Imagine my emotions after hearing that statement. My IVF treatment needed to fail (again) before surgery for my lifelong pain would be considered.
After the transfer failed, the military’s OBGYN did surgery and said she found nothing. No mention of endometriosis. No relief for my pain. No explanation for my infertility. Despite years of treatment, emotional investment, physical procedures, and financial sacrifice, I was left without the child I had dreamed of bringing home. The grief of infertility and pregnancy loss became intertwined with the frustration of not having answers for my health.
Just a few months after my failed transfer and surgery, I was deployed again overseas. Of course, my pain and all the other symptoms traveled with me. I returned to the States about six months later and immediately found an OBGYN outside the military. She did surgery in September 2025 and excised endometriosis throughout my pelvic region, the first time anyone acknowledged that I had the disease. She also diagnosed me with adenomyosis.
Unfortunately, the pain has already returned, and it’s as bad as before the surgery. I recently found a new doctor—an endometriosis expert who specializes in minimally invasive surgery—who also takes my insurance, a must considering the debt I’m in from all the IVF treatments. I expect my third surgery to happen soon.
Although the doctor who did my second surgery probably didn’t remove all of the endometriosis, which would explain why my pain has returned, finding her changed the course of my journey. She did what the military doctors couldn’t do—confirm that my pain was real all along and that endometriosis and adenomyosis have likely contributed to my years of suffering and infertility.
Living with these diseases has affected every aspect of my life, including my physical health, mental health, career, relationships, and future plans. I’m in pain daily. I’ve experienced severe isolation and anxiety. I’m no longer married because my husband couldn’t handle my health issues. And despite pushing through the pain to do my job, the Air Force has told me they are seeking to force me into medical retirement, which will likely happen next year. I fought their efforts once and won. I don’t expect this time that I’ll have much of a chance.
But I still refuse to let endometriosis win.
I’m telling my story because endometriosis is far more than a painful period. It is a complex, life-altering, systemic disease. My hope is that by sharing my experience, I can help raise awareness, encourage others to trust their instincts when something feels wrong, and remind those still searching for answers that they deserve to be heard and taken seriously.
To those living with endometriosis or who believe they have it: trust yourself. You know your body better than anyone else. If something feels wrong, keep advocating for yourself. Too many people are told their pain is normal, that they are exaggerating, or that their symptoms are “just part of being a woman.” I spent years being dismissed before finally receiving answers. If I had accepted those responses, I may never have received the diagnoses that explained so much of what I was experiencing.
I also want people to understand that infertility and pregnancy loss are often invisible parts of this disease. Many individuals with endometriosis are quietly carrying grief that others cannot see. Be mindful that someone’s journey to parenthood may be far more complicated than it appears on the surface. A simple question like “When are you having kids?” can be painful for someone struggling behind closed doors.
For family members, friends, coworkers, and healthcare providers, please listen when someone tells you they are in pain. Your support can make an enormous difference. You may not be able to fix what they are going through, but believing them and showing compassion matters more than you know.
Most importantly, I want people with endometriosis to know that they are not alone. It can feel isolating, especially when symptoms are invisible and diagnoses take years. There were many times when I felt like no one understood what I was going through, but I’ve since connected with others living with endometriosis, reminding me that my pain is real and I’m not fighting this battle by myself.
I may not be destined to stay in the military, and I wasn’t meant to have a child with my husband, but I’m certain I’ll become a parent one day, even if it’s a different way. I’ve done my share of grieving, but I truly believe that everything happens for a reason.
*Patient stories submitted to EndoFound.org are the patient's views, not necessarily those of the foundation. All testimonials are from real patients, may not reflect the typical patient’s experience, and are not intended to represent or guarantee that anyone will achieve the same or similar results.
