Meeting the Love of My Life
“I met Hannah six years ago, and almost immediately, I knew I would love her. There was something in her kindness and openness that I had never seen in anyone else. As we were both in our 30s, we were upfront early on about what we wanted from life and love. After years of chaotic relationships and the dating scene, we both longed to settle down with someone who shared our values. I was a little nervous about bringing up my desire to start a family too soon, but I realized that if this was something she didn’t want, the sooner I knew, the better.
Fortunately, Hannah also wanted a family—just not immediately. After two years together, we bought a house in Ware, Hertfordshire, and began renovating it to reflect our style. Meanwhile, my biological clock was quietly ticking, and when I turned 40 in 2016, it began sounding off alarm bells I could no longer ignore.
We visited the Herts & Essex Fertility Centre for an open evening, and that marked the beginning of our journey with this amazing facility. There was so much to discuss: Could we afford this? Would we be good parents? We needed to save money and planned to start treatment the following year, in 2017.
But life had other plans. In February 2017, I suffered a serious knee injury playing football for Hertford Town Ladies. My ACL snapped, and a two-year battle with rehabilitation began. Ten long months in a hinged knee brace awaited me before my reconstruction surgery. I worried constantly about how this injury might impact my dream of becoming a mother, all while my 41st birthday loomed in the near future.
Later that year, in October, Hannah’s father passed away. Though he had battled Parkinson’s and Dementia for many years, his death still shocked us. We decided to pause our plans for yet another precious year.
My knee operation finally took place in November 2017. The surgery was successful, and this time, my rehabilitation goal was not to return to football, but to strengthen my knee enough to carry a baby safely.
By 2018, my knee felt stronger, and we were finally ready to start IVF treatment at Herts & Essex. My AMH test results, which indicate egg reserves, revealed they were low. Despite my age, I was stunned—I had always assumed that my deep desire to become a mother meant my body would be ready. It was upsetting, but I refused to let this deter us.
Hannah, on the other hand, had exceptional AMH levels. She had more eggs than we could have imagined! We decided to pursue reciprocal IVF: Hannah’s eggs and my womb. Hannah didn’t wish to carry the baby herself, so it was a perfect solution for us. Choosing a sperm donor brought laughter and excitement; our consultant suggested someone tall to “give it a chance,” and we had fun weighing our options before making a unanimous decision.
Our first round of IVF was full of hope and nervous excitement. Sixteen eggs were fertilized, and seven made it to blastocyst. On June 13th, one beautiful blastocyst was transferred to me, though the others weren’t suitable to freeze—a hard reality to accept. The two-week wait that followed was excruciating. When we finally received confirmation, we were pregnant, though the HCG levels rose slowly.
We invited our parents over for a small, secret celebration. But that joy turned to heartbreak when I started bleeding heavily, and we realized we had lost the baby. The raw pain of miscarriage hit us both hard. Our parents offered comfort, and Hannah became my rock, even while grieving herself. Weeks passed in a blur, but through reiki and gentle support, we began to heal and smile again.
By February, we were ready to try again. Hannah’s eggs were harvested once more—ten fertilized, six reached blastocyst, and three were frozen. This round brought both hope and terror. I believed it had worked, only to be devastated by a negative home test. Blood tests confirmed it—the second round had failed. It wasn’t as physically painful as miscarriage, but it challenged our hearts in a new way. We had to push aside thoughts that we weren’t deserving, that it was too late, and that we weren’t capable.
Three months later, we defrosted one of our frozen blastocysts for what could be our final attempt. Funds were low, hearts heavy, but we still tried to make the clinic visits joyful. On May 17th, 2018—just two days after my 43rd birthday—our precious frosty was transferred. The two-week wait felt impossible, but when the results came back, they were overwhelmingly positive. Our HCG level was 512, a clear sign that our baby was here to stay.
Now, fifteen weeks in, my belly is growing wonderfully. I’m already in maternity jeans, Pinterest boards bursting with nursery inspiration, and my heart fuller than ever. Our baby is due in February 2020—the very year Hannah had her eggs harvested. I always thought conceiving would be simple once I decided I was ready, but this journey has been agonizing, emotional, and life-changing. And yet, I wouldn’t change a moment of it.
Looking at our 12-week scan photo every day, I feel gratitude, awe, and an overwhelming love for the little life growing inside me. Soon, we will finally hold our baby and whisper, ‘We’re your mommies.’ And all the struggles, all the tears, and all the waiting will have been worth it.”
