When did I start to know I had started to move forwards?

Was it when I gave away the baby clothing I bought on our first IVF cycle? That little ‘Scilly Baby’ outfit? Or the moment when my husband sat on the sofa and said he couldn’t watch me go through another cycle of treatment? When he thought the physical and mental impact would break me more than coming to terms with not being a mother? The moment I realised that the chairs in the living room in which I’d fainted from infusions were visual reminders, chaining me to the past? When I realised that throwing myself off a cliff wasn’t the answer? When we adopted a rescue dog? When we were on holiday and I walked out on both him and the dog because we were opposites in our grief. When I came back and understood we needed support?

Was it signing up to academic study and finding Jody Day, which led to meeting other former champions and now Ambassadors. My graduation from my Masters? Was it those gatherings where strangers became friends with whom I chewed over words and actions? Moments when we created solidarity and found a cathartic outlet in our shared grief that is without competition or judgement for at the heart is those empty arms we all share.

Maybe it was when Michael, Sarah and I had the madcap idea of a podcast? Collecting up the vibes of conversations with Steph, Sarah, Jody, Lucy, Helen, Michael, Andy and Robin.. so many others…and thinking we could find a corner of the internet in which to get gobby, but also, most critically, listen to others. That first recording? Our first guest? The latest guest? All of the guests! A safe space in which to share the stories of those yet to speak. A frequency on which to swear and challenge. A surge of moving forwards with collaborative support, so we could empower others to feel stronger too.

Was it when I went to a family wedding on the eve of the UK lockdowns; held myself with dignity and trusted my husband to look after me as my family presented new babies? When I looked at those children and thought what a fucked up world you’re going to live in and felt fearful for them and their parents? When I refrained from wine because my self awareness told me I could drown my sorrows too well, but instead enjoyed diverse conversation and a clear head. When, in the weeks that followed, I realised a relative felt pity for me but I felt that said more about him than me.

Perhaps it was when I am sat here, writing this, thinking that I don’t regret my trying. IVF is not for everyone, and with the benefit of hindsight I would have done it differently but I cannot change what is past. And, as I see our silver wedding anniversary creep up, I reflect on how I’m a different person for the compassion I have gained. A better wife and friend for not having complacency. And knowing that if it was safe to celebrate the journey that got me and my husband to twenty five years, I’d want to celebrate that with those who have help form the fabric of our lives in our recovery. For without that recovery we’d not be here together. Many of you who read this are those very threads that weave our community together and my husband the knot that keeps me safe. Thank you for being part of my moving forwards.

Berenice Smith

Berenice is a co-presenter of the community podcast, The Full Stop and owns a design agency, Hello Lovely. She lives in Cambridge with her husband Kenny and rescue dog Molly. They celebrated twenty five years of rollercoasting marriage on 7th September. She is a very proud WCW Ambassador and went through miscarriages and six failed rounds of IVF.