This story is not just about one couple’s fascinating journey told with genuine warmth, spirit and naked honesty. Benita’s passion and sincerity comes through to the reader, you are there with her, on the tractor or at the kitchen bench at the farm as she brings us along to shed light on subjects that are too often kept in the dark. Anyone who is or has struggled with fertility will find solace and solidarity in this story. Anyone who is supporting someone else’s struggles will benefit enormously from knowing the raw complex road that some face. But it offers more than just insight, it is an enlightening, entertaining and engaging read into a world that looks similar and yet is quite distant from our own.
A few years ago, my life changed suddenly and dramatically due to a very strange event that saw me in hospital with a shattered ankle. Three surgeries and a year of pain and rehabilitation, I was told I would need to have my ankle fused and would always limp. This was a swift change of pace from a life dominated by sport, competing in triathlons and hiking trips.
Strangely one of the hardest aspects was having so much time sitting with myself. Suddenly I had a lot of time to consider what was important and what I wanted. I became impatient with the need to settle down. I hobbled around open homes as we searched for a home, a first step in growing up. The desire to be married seemed suddenly important to me but the idea of a wedding did not. We broke a lot of our friends and families hearts by eloping, having a low fuss ceremony at the registry. But it was what we wanted, all we could manage.
Suddenly, it hit me, a feeling like time was ticking. My husband wasn’t quite in the same rush, much to my despair. The emotional outbursts would surface in the guise of many different forms, causing fights that were really about my desire for a family. Finally we were on the same page and the monthly cycle of trying began. I quickly fell into the cycle of hoping, waiting and then disappointment. My response was to approach it like I was broken and needed to be fixed. Within a few months I was seeing a fertility acupuncturist, trying Chinese medicine, seeing a psychologist and trying hypnotherapy, tapping as well as mindfulness and yoga.
It wasn’t until I was visiting a very good friend who had struggled with conceiving, did I realise just how badly I was coping and how much I was torturing myself. I eased up on all the treatment, took some pressure off and focused on the things I enjoyed doing. I changed jobs to a wonderful non-profit organisation. We planned trips and enjoyed living our life which now included a very spoilt West Highland white terrier puppy. It took time. But we were lucky and we now have a super little human that we love spending time with.
His birth was not straightforward, as the obstetrician put it, “...it was on the more severe end”. Whatever that means. What I know was that I was not thinking we would have a second. And then a year later, still breastfeeding, I discovered we were pregnant. I knew something wasn’t right though and sure enough, the pregnancy was not viable. The bleeding dragged on before I eventually had dilatation and curettage surgery six weeks later. Samples were sent away, per routine, and scarily cancerous cells were detected. Thankfully after waiting a long few weeks to hear any news, further testing ruled out anything serious and I was left to recover physically and emotionally, which is ongoing.
One surprising result of the whole episode was that I realised I did want that baby. I did want a sibling for my firstborn. You only had to see him enjoy the time with his cousins to see how much he would love a sibling. And I can’t imagine my life without my big brother and sister, they have made me who I am. As well as the cracking good sense of humour that only we share.
Of course, it wasn’t as easy trying to conceive once again. And then once we did see those magic two blue lines, there was a whole new world of anxiety around miscarrying. Every time I go to the toilet, I am certain I will see blood that is the start of a miscarriage. Every twinge is a cramp that must be bad news. Even as I dealt with horrendous morning sickness, it did nothing to alleviate the certainty that I would lose another. And now, as I am about to enter the third trimester, I am hopeful but not confident.
Benita’s journey gives me strength through solidarity of shared experience of longing, loss and hope. She is extraordinary, not just for what she has achieved at university, in business or in agriculture. Not for how much she has endured in her journey for a family or how great a singer she is (she is very good) but how generously she wants others to feel supported, to reach every women, every couple struggling to conceive and give them a big warm embrace so they know they aren’t alone.
