🌸 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.