Last year I had the pleasure of speaking at Wish for a Baby in Sydney. It was a fantastic event, and I loved meeting so many wonderful and inspiring people. A highlight for me was sharing my IVF and surrogacy journey. I remember looking out onto the audience and seeing a few people crying, while others nodded along as I spoke. So I knew my infertility story resonated with so many. 

My infertility journey is not a particularly unique one. As you read my story, I’m sure there will be parts you can relate to, parts you’ve experienced yourself. Over the years, many people have told me how overwhelming, all consuming, painful, and isolating infertility is. I remember those feelings as if it was yesterday. And the one thing that always helped me was to talk to others going through the same thing. 

If you’re thinking about attending Wish for a Baby Australia in May, you’ll hear from people like me who will share their personal fertility stories. You’ll also get the opportunity to hear from, and meet, specialists in all areas of fertility. There’s an incredible line up speakers this year and it’s amazing having so many fertility experts together under the one roof. 

I’ll be at the Melbourne event, at the IVFbabble booth. I hope you stop by and say hello. I’m happy to talk to you about my surrogacy and IVF experience. And if you can’t make it on the day, you can direct message me anytime through my Instagram @straight.up.infertility. 

What is my story?

I’m a proud IVF and surrogacy Mum and a strong advocate for infertility awareness. I’m also an IVFbabble ambassador, a global fertility online community and platform. And I’m the author of This is Infertility; the story of my six-year IVF and surrogacy journey and everything I learned along the way. 

Our infertility journey was a long one, which I’m sure many of you can relate to. It took us six years, several failed IVF cycles, three miscarriages and a selfless surrogate to bring our beautiful son Spencer into the world. 

Soon after my husband Ryan and I married, we decided to try for a family. Being in our early thirties, we thought it would be easy. But after about a year, we knew something wasn’t right. And so, we started IVF. It was a roller coaster of emotions. Some weeks I felt despair, anger, and guilt: Why can’t I do the one thing women are supposed to be able to do? Other weeks, I was optimistic and full of adrenalin. Working through those contrasting emotions, for years, was often exhausting. 

After several failed and cancelled IVF cycles and a miscarriage, we changed to an implantation specialist who diagnosed me with having a thin endometrium lining. As the wallpaper of the uterus, the lining is crucial to becoming pregnant and sustaining a pregnancy. At our appointment, he told us: Thin linings are rare, usually genetic, and difficult to fix. He then told us surrogacy was our best chance of having a baby. But not ready to close the door on being pregnant myself, we pushed ahead with a transfer on a thin lining and became pregnant. The high was enormous. 

Sadly, at our first scan at 7.5 weeks, we had the devastating news our baby’s heartbeat was too slow. Two days later at our follow-up scan, she had passed. We were absolutely crushed. Shortly after a D&C procedure, our specialist called with the biopsy results. The baby had been genetically normal. The baby was a girl. I wish I hadn’t found out the gender. It made the loss more real and heartbreaking. The overriding takeaway though, was this loss confirmed that the issue was me. It was really hard to accept. But with the support of my family and friends and a wonderful counsellor, I was able to work through the grief of never being able to carry my own baby and to accept our next chapter: Surrogacy.

With surrogacy a more difficult process in Australia, we started in Canada with Julie, a selfless woman who felt compelled to help us. It was a long flight for the transfer but it was such an important milestone. But what happened next still haunts me. The day of the transfer, our specialist told us the shocking news that the container of embryos we had transported was empty. With a pounding heart and almost breathless, I kept asking him: “What do you mean by empty? Who can we call?” But there was no one to call. The embryos were gone. We knew that there's a standard protocol for transporting embryos, so what happened to us was extremely rare. 

This was one of lowest points during our journey. It was at this time I saw a psychologist who used hypnotherapy and cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT). She recommended that instead of fixating on what I didn’t have, to focus on what I did. And to try, as hard as it was, to not let the infertility consume me. Yes, it was a significant part of my life, but I shouldn’t let it be my identity. There is no question that adopting the CBT techniques helped me to cope. 

We pursued surrogacy next in the United States, our last hurrah. We had an instant bond with our beautiful surrogate Leigha and her husband Josh. I will always be in awe of surrogates. How someone who doesn’t know you, hears your story, and feels compelled to help you. Our first transfer sadly failed but our second transfer worked. We heard the heartbeat at our 8-week scan, and we all felt at peace. But at our 10-week scan, we learned the heartbreaking news our baby had passed. 

At this point I resigned myself to think we would never have a child. I wanted to scream and cry and be done with the whole thing. With every set back, I had faith. But this time the fight had vanished. I was struggling to move past the fact we were here again. But we had some good embryos left and our surrogate Leigha was determined to keep going. Ryan encouraged me, repeating everything our doctor had said about how the miscarriage was rare (sub chronic hematoma) and unlikely to happen again. 

We decided to try one last time. Leigha felt anxious but she charged into the final transfer giving it her all. Nine months later, our beautiful son Spencer was born. Today Spencer is five years old, and he is the love of our lives. 

I know how devastating and painful infertility can be. But for anyone struggling with infertility, you are not alone. There are many people out there experiencing infertility. Find those people. Talk to them. Lean on them. Surround yourself with love and support. Don’t suffer in silence.