writing – Bloom + Flourish Collective

Why the Bloom + Flourish Collective Exists

August 2, 2025August 2, 2025Leave a comment

I believe I’m meant to be a mother.

But I’m not there yet.

For a long time, I wandered with quiet questions tucked beneath my skin:

Am I behind? Am I broken? Am I still becoming?

I’ve always felt there was more for me — a life full of love, purpose, and deep-rooted connection. But the path hasn’t been straightforward.

I started the Bloom + Flourish Collective in the in-between.

It’s part blog, part journal, part gentle rebellion against the idea that we have to have it all figured out before we begin.

This space begins with my fertility journey — the tests, the waiting, the hope — but it’s blooming into something much more.

A place where women can grow alongside each other through any season of life. A place to be real, rise gently, and flourish together.

The Vision: Growing Something Beautiful, Together

I dream of a collective that feels like a soft landing and a quiet spark.

Where women can:

Share the honest parts of their stories
Reconnect with themselves
Learn, create, and rest
Take small, beautiful actions that ripple outwards

Over time, this space may grow into courses, seasonal journals, symbolic milestones, and even giving back — like collective fundraising or care packages for women on this path.

But for now, it’s a seed planted in the soil of hope.

We are growing something slowly, intentionally — and together.

The Seven Petals of the Collective

(coming into bloom — one by one)

Each petal represents a path you can explore.

Not all are open yet — this collective is growing slowly, just like we are.

| 🌿 The Path to Motherhood | IVF, fertility, grief, and the quiet strength of hoping to become a mother. (Now blooming) |

| 🌼 Grow Into Yourself | Navigating identity, transitions, and self-worth with gentleness and curiosity. (Coming soon) |

| 🕊️ Intentional Living | Meaningful habits, seasonal rhythms, and small daily rituals that nourish. (Coming soon) |

| 📚 Lifelong Learning | Books, courses, and challenges that spark growth, reflection, and joy. (Coming soon) |

| 🎨 Creativity & Courage | Affirmations, journaling, and brave self-expression — especially in uncertain times. (Coming soon) |

| 🌳 Rooted Together | Peer support, shared wisdom, and growing in community with others on the path. (Coming soon)|

| 🌍 Bloom Into Action | Kindness, fundraising, and small acts that make a difference when the world feels overwhelming. (Coming soon) |

🌱 Start with what’s here now: Before the Bloom

A gentle, honest look at what it means to begin this journey — step by step.

What This Space Is — and Isn’t

This is a space for…	This isn’t…
Healing, honesty, and slow personal growth	Quick fixes, pressure, or perfection
Fertility stories and beyond	Just another polished influencer blog
Creativity, reflection, and grounded hope	Toxic positivity or spiritual bypassing
Community and shared action	Comparison, competition, or judgment

A Note to You

If you’ve found your way here, I don’t believe it’s by accident.

Maybe you’re trying to become a mother.

Maybe you’re in a season of searching.

Maybe you’re just looking for something softer and more real.

Wherever you are — there’s a place for you in this collective.

You are not too late. You are not too much. You are not alone.

Let’s grow something beautiful, together.

🌸

Laura

Preparing My Body to Carry a Baby

July 22, 2025July 22, 2025Leave a comment

There’s so much about this journey that I can’t control.

But preparing my body — that’s something I can do.

I’m heavier than I want to be, and that’s not always easy to sit with. But I’m also proud of what I’m doing right now. I’m moving more, eating more intentionally, and slowly watching my body begin to change — not through punishment, but through care.

I want to feel strong and healthy no matter what happens next.

But if I do get pregnant — I want to give myself the best chance possible to carry that pregnancy well.

This isn’t about chasing perfection. It’s about doing what I can to feel ready — physically, emotionally, and in the quiet ways that matter.

The Changes I’ve Made

Right now, I’m showing up for myself each day — not perfectly, but intentionally.

I move my body every single day.

Some days it’s gentle — a stretch, a walk. Other days, I push myself a little further. But every day, I do something.

I’ve been drinking at least two litres of water a day, which helps me feel more awake and balanced. I’m also more mindful of what I eat and how I eat. Tracking my calories has helped me feel aware and in control — not in a rigid way, but as a form of accountability. I was surprised at how far off my guesses were, and how much stronger I feel with a clearer picture.

I’ve also started taking folic acid and vitamin D, to gently support my body as I prepare for pregnancy. And I’m prioritising sleep — aiming for seven hours a night to feel rested and more emotionally steady.

One of the biggest changes I’ve made is protecting my mental health.

I’ve been consciously keeping things manageable — not taking on too much, setting clearer boundaries, and allowing space for quiet when I need it. There’s no room for unnecessary stress right now, and I’m learning to honour that without guilt.

Some days I miss a habit. Some days I feel tired.

But the consistency is building, and I feel the difference.

This is not about doing it all right — it’s about showing up, one choice at a time, because I believe I’m worth that care.

And because I want to meet whatever comes next feeling ready.

What I’m Learning Along the Way

I used to think that “self-care” meant candles and face masks — something soft and surface-level.

But lately, I’m learning that it’s something deeper. It’s discipline. It’s kindness. It’s showing up for myself when no one’s watching.

This journey has reminded me: I can do hard things.

I’m learning how to build habits that support me, not just for now, but for the future I hope for.

It’s not about punishing my body — it’s about partnering with it. Listening to it. Strengthening it.

I’m also learning that growth doesn’t have to be loud.

Sometimes it’s just doing the same small thing again today. And then tomorrow. And the day after that.

There’s something powerful about choosing to care for myself in this way.

It helps me feel a little more ready. A little more rooted.

Even when there’s still uncertainty ahead — this care gives me something to hold onto.

A reminder that I’m preparing not just for a baby, but for motherhood.

And that begins with learning to mother myself, gently and with love.

Gentle Advice for Others

If you’re preparing your body for the possibility of pregnancy, I want to say this:

You don’t have to do it all.

There’s no perfect checklist. No one way to be “ready.”

Start small. Pick one thing that feels doable — drink more water, move your body gently, go to bed a little earlier — and let that be enough for now.

It’s okay if your version of preparation looks different from someone else’s.

This isn’t a race. And it’s not about punishing your body — it’s about supporting it.

You’re allowed to feel both strong and uncertain.

You’re allowed to care for yourself without knowing what’s next.

Every small step is a seed you’re planting.

A way of saying: I believe in what’s possible.

💛 If you’re taking steps to care for your body right now — no matter how small — I see you.

This part of the journey can feel so personal, so quiet, and so invisible to others. But every choice you make to support yourself matters.

I’d love to hear what’s helping you feel strong or grounded lately. You can share in the comments or come find me on Instagram @bloomflourishcollective.

And if you’d like some gentle support sent your way, I’m putting together an email with affirmations and journal prompts for this part of the path — especially for those of us navigating the quiet wait, preparing ourselves for what’s to come.

My email list will be opening soon, and I’ll share it first with those who’ve been walking this alongside me.

Let’s keep growing — gently, bravely, and together.

The Weight of Hope

July 19, 2025Leave a comment

There’s a kind of hope that glows quietly — and then there’s the kind that lingers like a weight you carry every day.

Hope can be heavy.

It settles in my chest — not as a lightness, but as a quiet, aching weight.

Not painful, exactly. Just… persistent.

I almost don’t want to name it.

My hope for motherhood feels too sacred to say out loud — too fragile.

What if I jinx it? What if I let myself believe too much, and it doesn’t work out?

I want to believe — but I’m scared to trust it fully.

As if speaking it out loud might cause it to slip through my hands.

So I don’t speak of it often.

But it’s always there — humming beneath everything.

When I see a pregnant woman pass me in the supermarket.

When a baby’s cry cuts the air, and my body tightens in a way I didn’t invite.

When parents are laughing in the playground and something stirs in me so deeply it almost hurts.

Hope pulses in those moments.

It’s quiet, but it’s fierce. And sometimes it’s too much to carry — and yet I carry it still.

Maybe you know that kind of hope too — the kind that lives quietly in the background, even on the days it hurts to hope at all.

Hope doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it arrives suddenly — a flutter in my stomach, or a flash of an image in my mind: me, with a round belly, hand resting gently. It can take me by surprise, rushing through me with a wave of emotion I didn’t expect.

It tends to visit in the quiet moments. When the house is still. When I’m not focused on something else. That’s when the thoughts rise — soft, but distracting. They pull me away from what I’m doing and into what might be.

I’ve learned not to resist them, but not to stay in them either. I notice the feelings. And then, if I need to, I reach for something else — something grounding. A task, a walk, a breath.

In those moments when the thoughts start to spiral, I’ve learned to turn toward what steadies me.

Sometimes, that’s fiction — fantasy stories that lift me into another world for a little while. Other times, it’s movement. I’ve started a new fitness routine, slowly building strength as I gently prepare my body for what I hope will come.

It’s not just about changing my body — it’s about reminding myself I can do hard things. That I’m stronger than this waiting. That I can meet the future with steadiness, whatever it holds.

I’m lucky to have people who love me. My husband, close friends, family. But these feelings — the real weight of hope — they’re hard to put into words. Sometimes they feel too big. And sometimes they feel too precious. So I hold them close. Quietly. Privately. Like something sacred.

Maybe that’s what hope is — not loud or certain, but something we carry quietly. Something we honour in our own way, even if no one else can see it.

If you’re carrying the weight of hope too, I want you to know:

I see you.

It’s hard.

But you are strong — even if you don’t feel it all the time.

Hope and fear are two sides of the same coin on this journey.

They arrive together, tangled and inseparable.

But I believe this: hope is stronger than fear.

Fear pulls us down.

Hope lifts us — even if just a little.

Even when it’s fragile.

Even when it hurts.

Hope means we care.

Hope means we’re still here, still moving forward, even when it’s slow.

It means doing the next little step — making the call, going to the appointment, getting through the day — even while carrying the uncertainty.

You can be scared and hopeful at the same time.

You don’t have to choose.

If this is you — if you’re holding quiet hope in your chest and wondering what comes next — I’m walking this with you.

Let’s take the next step together.

🌿 I’m putting together a gentle collection of affirmations for hopeful hearts — soft words to carry you through the waiting.

If you’d like to receive it when it’s ready, you’ll be able to join my email list soon. I’ll share it first with those who’ve been walking this path beside me.

How I’m Taking Care of Myself Right Now

July 15, 2025Leave a comment

Self-care, for me, isn’t bubble baths or pedicures — at least not right now.

It looks more like sticking to the routines that bring me comfort. Making time for the things that help me feel like me. Not taking on too much. Saying no when I need to. It’s about being honest with myself about what I can handle — and making space to rest, even when the world feels busy.

This fertility journey has been a prompt — a gentle nudge — to look after myself more intentionally.

I’ve been working on reducing stress at work, letting go of unnecessary pressures that I don’t need to carry, especially now. I’ve also started getting fitter, losing weight, and focusing on what my body can do — not just what I want it to do in the future. It’s not about chasing perfection. It’s about strengthening myself for what’s ahead.

I have a history of anxiety, and keeping it under control feels more important than ever. That means doing the small things I know help — even when I don’t feel like it. Routines. Gentle movement. Managing overstimulation. Trying new habits I’ve seen online and keeping the ones that feel good.

I don’t think self-care can be done “wrong.”

It’s personal. It’s evolving. It’s less about being soft and more about being steady.

What’s Supporting Me at the Moment

Right now, I’m building gentle routines that help me feel stronger — physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Mornings begin slowly, with a warm cup of tea and a scoop of collagen stirred in — a small ritual that feels both nourishing and grounding. I give myself space to wake up gently before the day begins.

I’m taking daily supplements and moving my body with more intention — usually through a mix of Pilates, strength workouts, and aiming for 10,000 steps a day. My Apple Watch helps keep me motivated, reminding me that every step is part of a bigger goal — to feel ready, strong, and steady.

I’ve also been returning to fiction, letting myself escape into stories that soften the noise in my head. It’s become a calming way to reset — a quiet anchor when the waiting feels too loud.

And then there’s care of another kind — connection.

Every so often, I’ll spend the night at my mum’s just to feel looked after for a while. Or I’ll visit my best friend and watch an episode of our favourite show — something familiar, light, and shared. These moments don’t fix everything, but they soften the edges.

These small things — routines, movement, connection, quiet joy — are what’s supporting me now. They’re not dramatic or shiny. But they remind me that I’m here, taking care of myself in the ways I can.

How I’m Reframing This Season

I don’t want to feel stuck.

That’s the thought I keep coming back to.

Because this isn’t just waiting — it’s growing.

I’m learning that patience isn’t passive.

It’s a form of strength. A quiet determination.

I remind myself often: I’m not behind. I’m not too late. I’m exactly where I need to be.

This is still part of my becoming — not a pause, not a delay, but a part of the process.

The waiting has taught me to focus more clearly on what matters.

To take care of myself more gently.

To root myself in what is real and meaningful.

It’s easy to feel like everything is on hold during a fertility journey — as if life is just ticking by until you get the answer you’re hoping for. But I don’t want to live in that mindset.

I can wait and still grow.

I can be longing and still be present.

I can be more than this one part of my story.

This season is shaping me — slowly, quietly — into someone stronger and more grounded.

And that counts for something.

🌿 If you’re also in a season of waiting, you’re not alone.

I’m walking this path too — learning how to care for myself, hold onto hope, and keep growing through the unknown.

I’ll be sharing more gentle reflections, affirmations, and journaling prompts in the coming weeks. If that sounds like something you’d find helpful, I’d love to share them with you.

My email list will be opening soon, and you’ll be the first to know when it does. Until then, I’m sharing regularly here and on Instagram @bloomflourishcollective.

Let’s grow through this, together.

The First Step in My Fertility Journey

July 6, 2025July 6, 2025Leave a comment

🌸 Where I’m Starting From

I met my husband in October 2019, and about a year later, we moved in together and started building our life as a team. We weren’t actively trying for a baby at first, but we also weren’t preventing it. It felt like something that would happen in its own time.

For the last two years, we’ve been more intentional — timing things, hoping each month might be the one. I knew, with us both being a little older (I’m 37 and he’s 49), it might take a little longer. But I really thought it would have happened by now.

My husband has two sons from a previous marriage, and I’ve always pictured myself becoming a mother too. I used to think the hard part would be preventing a pregnancy — not creating one. That belief — that I was meant to be a mum — has never left me… but the waiting has tested it more than expected.

🌸 What Brought Me to This Point

At first, I felt hopeful and excited. Each new month brought fresh anticipation — but also fresh disappointment when my period arrived. I tried to stay positive, but over time the hope started to feel heavier.

Eventually, I had to face the reality that it wasn’t happening — and that I wasn’t getting any younger. I spoke to my GP and began some initial tests. Deep down, I started to believe that we might only conceive with some help. It was a difficult realisation — not just because of the uncertainty, but because the process itself is scary. Physically, emotionally, financially — it’s overwhelming in so many ways.

Now, with our first fertility specialist appointment approaching, I feel a swirl of emotions — anxious about what we’ll be told, how treatment might affect our lives, and how we’ll manage the cost. But there’s one thing I know for sure: the thought of walking away from the hope of motherhood weighs far heavier than the fear of what comes next.

🌸 Why I’m Sharing This

Sharing this publicly — anonymously, for now — is something I never imagined I’d do. But the silence around infertility can be deafening. I kept waiting for someone else to say the things I was feeling.

Eventually, I realised maybe that someone could be me.

I’m not an expert, and I don’t have a plan all figured out. I’m just a woman taking a first step into something big and unknown. And that’s really where this began — with one small, brave step.

Making the appointment.

Starting this blog.

Beginning the Bloom + Flourish Collective.

Because sometimes the bravest thing we can do is begin — before we’re ready, before we know the outcome, before we feel like we’re “enough.” That first step might be imperfect, but it’s a move toward hope, and that counts for everything.

The more I thought about sharing, the more it grew into something bigger. What if this space could be more than one woman’s story? What if it became a place for other women to grow too — through infertility, through motherhood, through any season of transformation?

🌸 Journaling Before You Reach Out

If you’re standing at the start of this journey, I want to offer something that helped me feel more grounded: reflection.

These are some gentle journaling prompts I returned to before taking my own first step — reaching out for help.

What brought me to this point?
What fears or hesitations am I carrying?
What am I hoping for — even if I don’t dare say it out loud?
Who do I want to share this journey with (if anyone)?
What would I say to myself with kindness in this moment?

You don’t have to write pages. You don’t need all the answers.

Just a few quiet moments to connect inward before moving forward.

🌸 An Invitation to Follow Along

This is the beginning of my fertility journey — but it’s also the beginning of the Bloom + Flourish Collective.

A space that will grow with me, and I hope, with you too.

What starts here as a personal story will grow into something more: a place to reflect, connect, and take meaningful steps forward — whatever path you’re on. There will be space for community, creativity, and gentle structure — things to do, things to collect, and ways to grow that feel grounding and good.

If you’re navigating uncertainty, waiting quietly, or just longing to feel more like yourself again — you are so welcome here.

We don’t have to go through this alone.