In my mind, I have everything I’ve ever wanted. I have a caring, sweet man who has asked me to spend the rest of my life with him. We have our cute family home – white picket fence included.
We also have a 15-month-old boy running round under our feet, a boy we like to call Bobby. A boy who has quickly become the sole reason for my existence and my inspiration to better myself every single day.
But once upon a time I held a grave fear. A fear that I would never meet my Bobby. A nightmare, in fact. (The Mamamia Staff share their advice for Mums. Post continues after video.)
You see, ever since I was a child I had this overwhelming maternal urge. I had this connection with babies and kids that made me yearn for a large family of my own one-day. I was raised in a family of four daughters, so perhaps I inherited this from my mother, who knows.
But at the raw age of 17, a certain conversation I had with a radiologist really broke my heart for the first time.
“You’re going to need IVF when you’re older.”
I was in a haze. I left that room not only wondering why a sonographer thought it was appropriate to diagnose a teenager to her face as infertile ever so casually, but my heart hurt with the realisation for what this meant for my future.