I’m not one to beat around the bush, so let’s get straight into it as I think you’ll get the gist of my journey to motherhood pretty swiftly…

Five years of trying to conceive.
Six pregnancies.
Six early miscarriages.

Two lots of twins, three singles, and an ectopic pregnancy where I had my left fallopian tube removed, which reduced our chances of conceiving.

Thousands of dollars on alternative therapies such as acupuncture, Chinese herbal medicines (I drank copious amounts of boiled deer antler broth - yes, you read that right!), dietary restrictions and supplements.

Thousands of dollars on two egg collection rounds of IVF, followed by four separate embryo transfers, freezing and storage of remaining embryo.

Thousands more on various investigative and often invasive tests, genetic tests, blood tests, hormone tests, tests, tests and more tests, only to be told there is absolutely no reason why we couldn’t have a healthy baby. None, nothing, nada.

A continuous roller-coaster of emotions - hope, grief, anxiety, hope, grief, shame, grief, exhaustion, failure, hope, desperation, grief, oh the grief…defeat, surrender, acceptance, closure.

We were broken, we were worn out physically and emotionally. We were done with a capital D and donated our final embryo to research.

No baby, no worries!  We bought a kitten who helped satisfy our innate desire to nurture and love another being.  We had an artwork made to reflect the journey we had been on, and to remember the babies we had lost.

We were double income, no kids. We travelled the world, I got the highest paying job of my career, ran a half marathon, had sex for fun whenever we felt the urge (what a novelty!).  There wasn’t an ovulation calculator in sight, twelve fun-filled carefree months passed.

Then … my breasts felt tender, my period was late and pregnancy test that was positive!  I barely batted an eyelid as I waited for my seventh miscarriage as the world went into lockdown and COVID took over.  I waited some more…

I spoke to my GP as I had minor spotting and thought I was starting to miscarry.  I had a  
scan, there was a heartbeat!  Eight weeks passed, then nine weeks, ten, eleven, my anxiety went THROUGH THE ROOF, twelve weeks, the NIPT (Non-Invasive Prenatal Testing) test came back perfect, it’s a girl!   She’s here to stay!  My anxiety and shock slowly gave way to awe, gratitude and peace.

I had a textbook perfect pregnancy, no dramas, no issues, no crazy symptoms. Just a beautiful blossoming miraculous life.

At 39.5 weeks, we experienced the most amazing natural birth, with my attentive and loving husband by my side.   Our miracle baby, Skye arrived - healthy, happy, and thriving.

We blinked and she was 12 weeks old, reaching every milestone effortlessly.  I was riddled with fear, and a dread so deep in my bones that I could barely eat and couldn’t sleep. I second guessed every tiny decision I made, convinced I was going to ruin her life or disadvantage her in some way. I spent sleepless nights worrying about MASSIVE things like what drink bottle I should buy her, but what if I get it wrong and she doesn’t learn to drink properly?

There was more COVID lockdowns, and my anxiety induced digestive issues, weight loss, insomnia, tears and numbness continued. One day I looked at my 6-month-old baby on the change table trying her best to engage with me, babbling and giggling, and I felt nothing.  Nothing except a feeling of devastation that this poor baby deserved so much better than me as her mother.

That was ‘the moment’. The moment I realised I couldn’t keep going through this rinse and repeat cycle on my own. My baby didn’t deserve it, my husband didn’t deserve it, I didn’t deserve it.

I called my GP, crying so hard I could barely get my words out. The sense of failure and guilt consumed me. As soon as she mentioned Gidget Foundation, I felt an instant sense of relief…I was no longer alone, I would get help.

I looked forward to my fortnightly sessions with my Gidget Foundation clinician, they grounded me, they gave me micro-goals to work on, I could share my worries with someone without feeling like I was burdening my loved ones.

My anxiety still ebbed and flowed, the emotional rollercoaster continued, but it was more manageable. I believed I could cope, even on my darkest days and most sleepless nights. But I still struggled with a lack of appetite, digestive issues, insomnia and significant weight loss.

I decided I needed a multi-faceted approach to my care plan, so I spoke to my GP and decided to try medication, and completed an online insomnia/sleep hygiene course.  Six weeks passed, my sleep improved, I started to enjoy food again, slowly but surely, I felt like I was getting back to my normal self again, as much as one can after the life changing experience of becoming a mother!

It wasn’t until the second year of motherhood that I truly started to enjoy it and relax into it. When I look back at the first year I feel so robbed. I wish I had sought help sooner. It wasn’t until I put my feelings of failure and shame aside, and asked for professional help, that the wheels of change were set in motion. I only survived that first year because I started talking. It was the scariest and most courageous thing I have ever done. But I did it for my baby, I did it for my husband, and I did it for myself.

They say, ‘it takes a village to raise a child’. I believe it takes a village to raise an adult, as well. So be brave, start talking, and build your village.