A part of my own fertility journey.

𝗔𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀.

A local park with two mums. An intimate get-together with two mothers from my mother’s group and their children.

They were my yes mums and good friends of mine. Mums I got along really well with mums that often said yes to get-togethers. I’d send them a message and more often than not if they were free we’d meet up, anywhere.

We enjoyed the catch-up, the kids had a great time and I went home and cried and cried and cried for the rest of the afternoon.

 

Just before we left the park, the conversation turned to their pregnancies. One was now in her last trimester, the other halfway through.

 

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

 

See I’d been pregnant at the same time. We would have been pregnant together. I would have shared my progress in my pregnancy as well. I would have been carrying my baby.

 

𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲.

At nine weeks I lost my pregnancy.

As a scientist in reproductive biology, I got it. I understood the odds, that not all pregnancies work out, for many reasons.

 

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭, 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵.

 

I had an appointment with the obstetrician and waited in the waiting room alongside women who were pregnant and waiting for their checkups for their healthy babies.

I wasn’t. I was meeting with the obstetrician to discuss my non-viable pregnancy.

 

𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦.

 

𝗜 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁.

At one point she said that if the pain was too much I could take paracetamol.

I sat there hearing the words come out of my mouth. 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵?

And over the next few weeks and months, I didn’t find the emotional pain was easing. I didn’t know who to turn to for help. I needed to talk about it, relate to others, and process what I was feeling.

It wasn’t until several months later when I was doing a doula training program that I sat in a circle of women, led by the trainer Kellie Whiskin. In this safe space, I shared my story and heard what I needed to hear. What I’d been through had been given space. It was here with these amazing women holding space for me that I healed.

 

𝗦𝗽𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹

I learned so many things about how to sit by a woman’s side and ‘be with a woman’ through her pregnancy. I was passionate about fertility, preconception, and about the long and winding, sometimes heartbreaking journey of infertility. I decided that this was the kind of support that was missing for women who were struggling to conceive or had suffered miscarriage or pregnancy loss.

I knew I had the scientific knowledge, and the passion for wellbeing as well, to get as healthy as we could to increase your chance of a healthy pregnancy and healthy baby.

 

What I had to offer now felt different. It felt like I could hold more of a woman I was working with. Hold space for her, in discomfort and pain. Sit there with her and she expressed what she’s been through and how it affects her.

 

So she can process some of this grief and unload some of the weight she is carrying. So she doesn’t carry it for the rest of her journey and doesn’t carry it into her pregnancy, or into the precious time she is holding her baby.

 

𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦.

If you feel like you need support reach out and say hello. ​ If I’m unable to help you, I will do what I can to find support that is the perfect fit for you.

 

With love, Ileana xx