Happy Birthday Louise Brown!

Without you – or your parents and their doctors, my life would have been very different. I’m one of the five million whose infertility tales has a happy ending.

Here’s a little bit about how IVF changed my life.

I had a baby. The whole experience floored me, changed me irrevocably, picked me up, jumbled me around and put me down somewhere else entirely. A better place, to be absolutely clear. There are few experiences as profound as bringing new life into the world.

I catch myself grinning like an idiot while watching her play, I tiptoe into her room while she’s sleeping to look at her. The love is the sort that brings you to your knees, stops you in your tracks and makes your heart feel as if it will burst. I am truly blessed and eternally grateful to modern medicine for making my dreams come true.

To back track a little, what it did before that, was give me hope. IVF was there as a back-up plan, uttered quietly, when we were looking at yet another negative result. ‘We could always try IVF’. I honestly don’t know where we’d have been without that.

To be clear, we always knew it wasn’t a sliver bullet cure for infertility. The odds are still against you. But, it’s something else to try, it’s a chink of light at the end of the tunnel. It could be the thing that makes a difference. That gives you your longed for baby. That makes you a family.

We weren’t eligible for NHS funding which is a whole other issue and one I’m not going to get into in this post. So, in May 2015, we found ourselves pulling up in the car park of Manchester Fertility, a private IVF clinic.

The plush blue seats in the waiting room, the tasteful string curtains giving you dignified semi privacy, the modern art display of a sperm meeting an egg on the wall, the (free) cups of tea and biscuits, all embraced us in a metaphorical ‘it’s ok, we understand and we’ll help you’ hug. And help us, they did. All those needles, the nail biting waiting, the hope, fear and faith resulting in our beautiful girl bouncing into our lives bringing joy and chaos in abundance. Love you baby.

Happy birthday Louise and a great big, ‘here’s to IVF at 40’. May you continue to bring joy and chaos into people’s lives for the next 40 and beyond.

Love Tori x

Check me out in the paper

Follow me on Twitter @ToriDayWrites for musings about fertility, writing and self-publishing.

I’m famous in Yorkshire! (well sort of)

Exciting development this week – my first bit of publicity, in support of my book coming out soon. I’d given my details to Fertility Network UK back in May when I went to Fertility Fest, saying I’d potentially do interviews with the press. Then out of the blue I got an email saying The Yorkshire Post wanted to talk to me. Was I free the next day? Erm…yes.

So, after a nail biting wait for a phone call and a photographer knocking at my door (eek), all went well. I survived my first interview with a journalist. Being a good comms professional, of course I had my ‘core script’ and ‘lines to take’ at the ready. I made damn sure I didn’t say anything I didn’t want printing, as I do tend to get a bit ‘over-sharey’. Once I’m on a topic I’m passionate about (fertility is one of them) there’s no stopping me. In fact the journalist commented at the end of the phone call, ‘I haven’t had to ask you any more questions as you’ve given me enough’. (Lol) I think all she actually said was ‘Tell me a bit about your situation.’

What I inadvertently did by doing this though, was tell her everything I wanted her to print, without having to answer awkward questions, or reveal things I didn’t want to. I should use this technique again.

The published article is a bit tabloidy and not quite verbatim, but my key messages are in there and I’m over any nervousness about speaking to journos and having my picture in the paper. Here’s what I’ve learned:

When I’m approached by a journalist…

• Find out which publication are they working for – do I want to be associated with it?
• Who are their audience and how big is their reach?
• What’s the focus and title of the article they’re writing? Does this fit with my messages?

If these are a good fit:

• Say yes!
• Visit my core script and work out which key points I can use.
• Write them down.
• Say them out loud.
• Work out what I wouldn’t want printing.
• Don’t say those things – simples!

If you’re interested, here’s a bit of my core script:

The trying / struggling to conceive journey can be a lonely and isolating place. It’s not easy to talk about; people don’t know what to say. If you’re a stressed out parent with a toddler who’s causing havoc in a supermarket, you can exchange wry smiles with other parents, the older generation who’ve been there, or basically anybody else who happens to be around.

Being a parent is hard work, but feeling frustrated because your child won’t put down the bag of sweets and move on to the shampoo aisle or being exasperated because your two year old has just deleted some important files from your laptop which weren’t backed up (yep, this just happened to me), are actually Good Problems to Have. I say this because they’re relatable. You can use them to bond with others, they make good anecdotes and you know that however annoying these things are at the time, you’re blessed to be experiencing them.

Infertility is a Bad Problem to Have. When you’re self-consciously brushing tears from your cheeks, overcome with emotion in the nappy aisle, there’s nobody there rolling their eyes with you or offering an understanding smile. When you have to leave the room because someone has announced their pregnancy and they’ve only been trying a couple of months, you’re pulling yourself together alone in the toilets. This doesn’t make an amusing anecdote in the pub later. It makes people uncomfortable. I want to change that. I want to make it okay to say ‘hey, I’m struggling to get pregnant and it’s tough’ and for people to know what to say back – not ‘relax and it’ll happen when you least expect it’. 

Never say that. See my earlier blog post – Let’s talk about trying to conceive.

Fertility problems affect one in eight couples. There’s no shame. If we all spoke out (including to journalists), it might feel just a little less lonely.

Take care.

Tori x

The power of asking for help

I said I’d be back on form soon, and after taking some time out, muddling through some crazy hormones, allowing myself space to process and grieve and some long chats with good friends (you know who you are), I’m feeling more like my old self. See my last blog if you’re wondering what I’m talking about.

I’d been getting a bit stalled with my book, mainly as I’d been waiting for an editing company to come back to me with their assessment of my manuscript – for five weeks after the agreed date (I sharn’t name them). From what I can gather, they’ve been having a bit of a ‘mare with losing staff and have built up a huge back log. They’ve given me a refund, so you can’t say fairer than that, but I was feeling a bit flummoxed as to my next move. Do I start again, looking for another publishing company to assess, or do I jump straight to the proof reading stage then go ahead with publishing?

A coaching session at work gave me a kick start to get moving again. I remembered a lady I spoke to a year ago, when I was in the early stages of writing my book. I’d contacted her as she was part of my local writing group (who, as a brief aside, have been amazing in listening to me read sections of my book, giving useful feedback and boosting my confidence – shout out to the Saltaire Writers Group!) This lady is a published author and runs her own editing business, so I picked up the phone. She’s agreed to have a look at the first chapter of my book and give her professional opinion on whether it’d benefit from a closer edit, before I go ahead and publish. Thanks Helena Fairfax. 🙂

While I was still excited from my first ‘being cheeky and asking for stuff’ working out, I bumped into our Head of Design at a work conference yesterday. Seemingly on a roll, I thought – what the hell, I’ll try my luck again. While doing the usual dash to grab a cup of tea and a biscuit, juggling papers and various electronic devices, before the conference restarted, I jumped in and asked if any of her team could help me with designing my book cover (outside of work, obvs). I’ve just got off the phone with another lovely lady who’s agreed to look at what I’ve got so far and give me some design ideas. Looking forward to working with you Kerry!

So I’m back on track, in no small part by networking and being a bit cheeky. This demonstrates the point I made in an earlier blog – if you don’t ask you don’t get. I’ve found that people are genuinely interested in my project and are pleased to be asked to be involved. People are cool.

My advice to other #indieauthors – put yourself out there, ask for help and get stuff done.

I’m hopefully on the home stretch now, exciting times.

Tori x

I didn’t mean it

I didn’t mean it when I said I was jealous I couldn’t have a beer on holiday, or Brie in my sandwich, or when I said I was worried about going back to sleepless nights, or that I didn’t know how I was going to manage looking after a toddler and a newborn. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want this. I wanted you. I loved you.

You were only as big as a lentil. You were there for such a short space of time, but you were there and you were real. You were real to me.

I knew I was pregnant for two weeks. Not long. But it was long enough to talk about whether you’d be a girl or a boy. Long enough to discuss the new sleeping arrangements in our house to accommodate you. Long enough to apply cocoa butter to my tummy morning and night. To take folic acid. To dig out our list of baby names and discuss which ones we still liked. To look through my maternity clothes and think about whether I had the right stuff for the right seasons. To download a pregnancy workout app. To know what the age gap between you and your big sister would be and how you’d play together. To talk to my tummy. To research aqua natal classes. To plan. To imagine. To dream.

To leave a space in our hearts.

Long enough.

 

It’s been quite a dramatic first two months of ttc for number two. After spending a full day in hospital yesterday, ruling out an ectopic pregnancy, I’m finding myself relieved that it’s ‘just a miscarriage’. What an odd place to be in.

My book, I’m still working on final edits, not much to say there just now. Though it’s looking like I might be gathering enough material for a sequel.

I’ll be back on form soon.

Tori x

To puff or not to puff

So, while I’m focusing on the stuff on my ‘to do’ list, other than write book, I’ve found myself in a quandary. To puff or not to puff?

Let me explain, as it had me flummoxed.

You know how professionally printed books often have a quote on the cover saying how marvellous it is, usually by a published author or the press? Well it’s known in the trade as a ‘puff quote’. That’s because often they say things like ‘This book is really good, you should definitely read it’, which doesn’t tell you anything, except one person liked it, or maybe it was just that they owed the author a favour and haven’t read it. (Not like me to be cynical, but you know, it’s a possibility).

According to Debbie Young of ALLi what you want is a puff with a purpose – something that adds to what you have on your front cover by giving potential readers more of a clue as to what’s inside. A Ronseal approach, if you will. So for me, maybe it could be something like ‘An open and honest account of one woman’s difficult road to get pregnant’, or perhaps something a bit more gushing?

I realise I’m asking more questions than I’m answering. I’d set out thinking this blog might help others who are self-publishing, but I have to confess, I’m feeling my way as I go, or perhaps a more accurate description is #wingingit. That’s ok, it’s a voyage of discovery and I can share what I’m learning on the way.

So, after deciding to puff, I’ve been scratching my head with the all-important ‘who?’ question. A famous author? A fertility specialist? A friend? My mum? No, probably not.

The answer came to me while I was in the bath, reading about swimming. That’s Jessica Hepburn’s 21 Miles which I referenced in a previous blog post (fabulous woman, amazing book). She’s a published author and an infertility survivor, far more of a warrior than me. She’s the perfect person to puff for me. But I was a bit nervous about making the approach. She founded Fertility Fest and she swam the channel, why would she want to read my book and give me a quote? We’ve met briefly when I accosted her in the loos after the Two Week Wait session at Fertility Fest, but we’re hardly bezzies. After much deliberating and discussing with my husband, I took the plunge (excuse the pun). I took a deep breath and composed my email. Then waited.

I didn’t have to wait long and amazingly, she said yes – thanks Jessica! 🙂

So, what I’ve learnt here is, if you don’t ask you don’t get. As #indieauthors we have to push ourselves forward in a way that can feel a bit uncomfortable, to get ourselves heard. Not easy without a big publishing company and marketing team behind us, but we can do it, one step at a time. Happy writing!

Tori x

 

 

 

Front cover for an #indieauthor

A quickie this time, on where I’m up to with self-publishing my book.

Despite itching to keep tinkering with it (why do new ideas come to me as soon as I’ve given it to people to read??) I’ve turned my attention to the points on my to do list other than ‘write book’.

The front cover.

I’m not a designer, nor do I want to pay to hire a professional designer, which leaves me with a bit of a quandary. Luckily, I have a couple of talented friends who are willing to help out. I have an idea of what it should look like, but haven’t managed to come up with anything that screams ‘yes’ at me, through my dabbling in a free app. See above – I’m not a designer.

I want something that communicates hope and despair, frustration, bleakness, but also a bit of humour and light hearted-ness. Is that an impossible brief?

This weekend, I donned my dressing gown, set my iPhone to the timer switch and ‘posed’ on the toilet to get an idea of the look I was going for. After several attempts and frustration as my hair wasn’t in the right place, or you could see too much of my legs, I called in my husband for help.

“Can you come take a photo of me on the toilet?” I shouted down the stairs.

“Can I do what?”

I clarified it was for my book cover and not some new fetish I’d recently developed, and he was happy to oblige. So, after half an hour of his amateur directing and me trying different ways of sitting on the toilet without revealing too much ‘nope, you can see down my dressing gown – too much cleavage,’ or sitting at an unflattering angle ‘my thighs are splodging’ (technical term), we were done and I had a raw image to get to work with.

I then spent several hours immersed in an app using different effects and fonts. There are some seriously cool effects which I tried out (just for fun), but as I’m not writing Sci-Fi, horror or a manga comic, sadly they’re not appropriate.

So here’s what I have so far. I’m not wedded to it, not even really at the hand holding stage, so any thoughts or ideas are welcome.

Next up – to puff or not to puff (all will become clear).

Tori x

Fertility fest and a two week wait

I’ve just put the metaphorical pen down on version three of my book and I think I’ve reached saturation point. I need to step away. I’m becoming sick of the sight of it. I’m assured by my writer friends, that this is all part of the writing process and that it actually means I’m nearly there. Here’s hoping.

Last week I visited the wonderful Fertility Fest at Bush Theatre in London. It was a privilege to be around such awe inspiring women and to meet some ladies on their own fertility journeys. But, if I’m completely honest in took me right back there. It was odd timing as we’ve recently taken the plunge and decided to start trying for baby number two. I’d naively thought it’d be completely fine this time. We already have our beautiful girl and we’ve got 11 embryos in the freezer as back up. Whole different ball game, right? Well yes…and no.

After the first month, a false positive saw me rifling through the dustbins trying to retrieve an earlier negative test to check for a faint second line. I hassled the pharmacist at Boots, with photos of the ‘positive’ test, holding out a freshly done-in-the-toilets-of-the-pub-across-the-road, negative test. ‘What does this mean?’ I demanded of her. The infuriating advice is, of course, they don’t know. Wait a couple of days and test again. A couple of days? I couldn’t stand another minute of not knowing. All those old feelings of hope and despair, which I thought I’d put to bed, came crashing back. I got my period that night which gave me my answer and put me out of my misery. Turns out evaporation lines on pregnancy tests really are a thing – too cruel. Never, in all my years of trying, have I seen that before. Truth is, I’ve been left reeling and feeling unsure if I can face trying again next month.

I started this post to talk about where I’m up to with my book and my visit to Fertility Fest, and I seem to have gone off at a tangent. I guess it needed to come out. Now that I’ve offloaded that into cyber space, I’ll get back on subject. Those awe inspiring women. I very handily had a work meeting cancelled, which meant I could get along to the ‘Two Week Wait’ session, very apt given I’d just come to the end of my first two week wait in a long, long time.

Rachel Cathan read from her book 336 hours (great read, I read it in one emotional sitting, laughing out loud and crying along with her, through the tumultuous IVF two week (or 336 hour) wait. We had a chat afterwards and she gave me some pointers on self-publishing and helping people find your book once it’s out there. Thanks Rachel!

The session was hosted by Jessica Hepburn, founder of Fertility Fest, who has just launched her latest book 21 Miles. After 10 years and 11 failed IVF attempts, she threw in the towel and looked to find fulfilment and meaning in life, elsewhere. So obviously, the logical next step was to swim the channel. Yep. Her book tells the tale of how she met with a collection of inspiring women to ask the question ‘Does motherhood make you happy?’ She took their answers to sea as she set off in the dark from Dover, to complete her challenge and answer her burning question. It’s on my reading list, perhaps one for my book club 🙂

So, on my book. My nearest and dearest are reading again. Meanwhile, I’m turning my thoughts to the things on my ‘to do’ list other than ‘write book’. Up next, the front cover. More on this to come…

Tori x

Let’s talk about trying to conceive

A brief interlude from the chronicles of self-publishing, in support of National Infertility Awareness Week. The campaign encourages people to #TalkAboutTrying, #flipthescript and #saythefword (fertility, not the f word).

Talking about trying was something I wrestled with during my own fertility journey. My natural instinct is to talk and share what I’m going through. I feel lonely and isolated if I keep it things to myself. Generally, if someone asks, they get the full story, warts and all. Usually that’s fine, but I did encounter two issues:

1. People have a tendency to say the wrong thing.
2. Ending up with a list of people who want to be ‘kept up do date’ at every stage.

Let’s take point number one first. Anyone who’s suffered fertility issues will have been on the receiving end of unhelpful comments, however well intentioned. Just for fun – here’s a few of my personal favourites:

• ‘It’ll happen when you least expect it.’
• ‘Just relax and stop thinking about it.’
• ‘Go out and get drunk – it worked for me!’

When I least expect it? So if I became a lesbian / joined a nunnery and took a vow of celibacy, I’d miraculously become pregnant? That’d be when I’d least expect it. I’m not going to stop expecting it and hoping for it, when there’s the remotest chance I could actually be pregnant.

Stop thinking about it. I don’t need to explain to anyone who’s been there, why this is impossible. It’s like asking Santa to stop thinking about delivering presents, or Mother Teresa to stop thinking about the needy. Trying to conceive, for good or bad, becomes your sole purpose. It’s all you can think about. When you’re standing in the queue in a coffee shop, your mind is going over dates and calculations, working out the optimum time to have sex. When you’re in a meeting at work, you’re arguing with yourself about whether to take a pregnancy test a day earlier than you decided you’d allow yourself to. When you’re driving home, you’re wondering whether you should have done that shoulder stand for an extra two minutes, as that could have been the one thing that made the difference between your dreams coming true and trudging on in this state of semi-existence.

Go out and get drunk? That may help for the blessed fertiles who are not even trying, through lowering their inhibitions enough to skip the contraception for the night. But really? Get drunk? I don’t think I need to say any more on that one, the ridiculousness speaks for itself.

Now I’ve come back on each comment with sarcasm (I’m British, it’s what we do), I have to say, hand on heart, I know friends and family mean well. Whatever they say, I honestly believe they want to help. No one who loves us would intentionally say something to make us feel worse. So, perhaps we need to help them help us. I work in communications and am au fait with developing lines to take on all sorts of subject matters. In this case, I think what’s needed is a ‘lines not to take’ – please don’t say any of these things to me (see above). It’s probably best to just listen, be there. Helpful suggestions are not going to be that helpful, unless you’re a qualified fertility specialist.

So, onto keeping people up to date at every stage – this is where my husband and I differ greatly. If it were down to him, no one would have known anything about our fertility woes. They’d have been left wondering why we hadn’t reproduced yet, speculating about problems or us being one of those couples who doesn’t want a family. I’ve been known to have a sort of personal info Tourette’s; ask me an innocent question like ‘do I want kids?’, ten minutes later I’ll be telling you about my cervical mucus and asking your opinion on whether we should have sex again tonight or wait a couple of days for a fresh batch of sperm cooking up.

Me being me, I ended up with a rather large group of people who knew every intimate stage of my journey, then understandably wanted to be kept up to date on each step. Every test result, every appointment every ‘what next?’. It becomes exhausting. You go through it for real, then you go through it again and again as you re-tell the sorry tale at each lunch with a friend, phone call with a family member or water cooler encounter with a co-worker.

Perhaps what’s needed is one update, broadcast to everyone, issued like a press release – here’s the latest scoop. Some might choose to use a blog for this purpose, saving themselves from telling their story over and over. For others, maybe a blanket text to their nearest and dearest would serve better.

I hope #NIAW will help with some of these issues. If talking about infertility becomes normal, it’ll help friends and family find the right words. It shouldn’t be taboo and it shouldn’t be dismissed as no big deal. It’s a continuous struggle, it’s heart breaking every day, it’s climbing a mountain only to find someone keeps moving the summit. We need support from our loved ones and we need to be understood.

In the spirit of sharing everything with everyone, I’m turning my own personal fertility story, along with survival techniques I learned along the way, into a book. My hope is that it may make some fellow sufferers feel a bit less alone, a bit less like they’re going insane and maybe raise a few smiles and laughs along the way.

It’s coming soon, my little contribution to the struggling with fertility community.

Love, Tori x

A maiden voyage into self publishing

After my first rather enthusiastic post announcing I’d written a book, it’s all gone a bit quiet. It turns out I’m still writing a book. Writing is re-writing, as they say in the industry. I thought getting an initial draft I was reasonably happy with was the hard part, the bulk of the work done. Not quite the case, but that’s ok, I’m on a voyage of discovery and am having quite a bit of fun along the way. It’s a shame my actual job hols me up sometimes, though I’m lucky that working in communications and marketing, I do get to do plenty of what I love at work too.

When I’m not working or looking after my toddler, I’m immersed in the rabbit warren which is Twittersphere learning about book review sites, upcoming fertility conferences, marketing opportunities, editing, proofreading, fertility publications, reading endlessly, it goes on and on.

So, as I’m on my maiden voyage into the self publishing world, I’ve decided to focus this blog on my experiences, what I’m learning, the mistakes I’ll undoubtedly make and any helpful tips I can offer others on the same path.

First things first; editing my work to get it ship shape and shiny, ready to be published. I’ve now learned enough about self publishing and being an #indieauthor (get me, hashtagging and everything) to know I have a responsibility to the self publishing community to get my work to a professional standard before putting it out there.

I’ve been working my way through Jessica Bell’s Writing in a Nutshell series (highly recommended). I’m learning all about showing not telling (writing 101, right?), the six senses, how to edit your own work; writers tics – I’ve cut 1000 words from my manuscript by removing ‘superfluous words’, who knew I said ‘just’, ‘really’, ‘think’ and ‘feel’ quite so much?! Actually a bit sad that my word count is 1000 words down, but I know the book will be better for it so I’ll get over it.

I consider myself a perfectionist when it comes to writing and a bonafide grammar nerd. (I know, I’m opening myself up to people pointing out grammatical errors in this blog, go for it, I’m always happy to learn 🙂 ). I’m one of those people who’ll stand outside a coffee shop, looking at the chalk board menu, saying to my husband (or whoever else is around to listen) they don’t need an apostrophe in paninis, it’s plural paninis, not the panini’s bread or the panini’s tomato. Nothing can belong to a panini! I’ve said panini way too many times now, I’ll stop. That said, I’ve found myself scratching my head over the nitty gritty of grammar rules. With the more complicated rules, I confess I’ve often got by through relying on my gut instinct as a native English speaker. Knowing if it ‘sounds right’ it probably is, but once you start to over-analyse, you question yourself. A few hours of Googling later and I’m finding I’m ready to be a free spirit, no longer caring if I should be using ‘that’ or ‘which’, taking on the mind-set of the grammar anarchist – who cares, the reader knows what I mean! It’s a pain staking process, but I’ll get there, I will get there!

Grammar aside, I’ve had some amazing feedback from my beta readers, and a very helpful developmental edit from the lovely Sam and Cristina at Manufixers – thanks guys! Just to back track momentarily, when I say ‘amazing’, I don’t mean they said my book was amazing, I mean it was amazing as it turned on a light bulb in my head, giving me access to the answers that were lurking in the depths of my brain somewhere.

My book is my story, my trying to conceive memoir. It’s written in diary format as it’s based on my journal kept at the time. Further to feedback, I’m now carefully editing sections to make them more present, bringing my ‘characters’ (who are actually real people) to life with action and dialogue. I’m merrily making my husband and step daughter three dimensional – what an odd sentence to end on, but there you go – that’s where I’m at, in case you were wondering.

Coming up next, I’ll be blogging about book cover design (perhaps even including a sneak preview), marketing, preparing the manuscript to self publish and maybe some other stuff I haven’t thought of yet.

Thanks for reading, any thoughts or suggestions welcome. 🙂

Tori x

P.S. You can now follow me on Twitter @toridaywrites

I’ve written a book

I remember as though it were yesterday, my tutor on my creative writing course at uni rolling her eyes at my first short fiction submission. To give her her due, it was awful, but come on, I was 19 and my baseline for ‘good’ writing, was articles in Sugar and Just Seventeen magazines. She may as well have told me that my annoying inner voice telling me not to bother as I’m never going to be a good writer, was right. Well in your face creative writing tutor, I’m back and this time I have a story to tell that doesn’t involve a teenage girl going on a date and then thinking her new boyfriend is cheating on her, but lo – it turns out he’s a twin and it’s him she’s spied with another girl! (I know, told you it was awful). Phew, looks like I had to get that off my chest, didn’t even realise I’d been holding on to it. So, back to the matter in hand – I’ve written a book.

I’ve been writing stories from as soon as I could write, my best friend and I would pen colourful books about our my little ponies and sylvanian families, complete with crayoned illustrations, then read them out to any audience we could gather – our not so willing siblings, slightly more obliging parents or even better – each other.

I was an avid journal keeper throughout my teenage years (cringe when I read those back now). This continued sporadically through adulthood, and when me and my husband starting struggling to conceive our baby, it ramped up with a vengeance, my pen scribbling out all my angst, despair and hope onto the pages of my journal. Our daughter was born three years and three months after we started trying to conceive and our world took on the rose tinted sheen of new parents. Awe, bewilderment and elation permeated our existence.

During those bubble like, sleep deprived months, I found myself again reaching for the notebook. I had an overwhelming urge to write. I knew, I had to tell my story. Not only did I finally have something to write about, but writing about it could also, help people – win. I know I’m not alone in struggling to conceive, in fact I’d probably describe my experience as fertility issues-light when I look at what others go through. But, I know I would have liked to read a book like the one I’ve (very nearly) finished writing.

The trying to conceive journey is a lonely and isolating place, and people don’t really ‘get it’ unless they’ve been there. So I hope that my story might help others, as I tell my tale with what I hope is complete candour, vulnerability and at times a sense of humour. When life tests you, you really find out who you are. It’s easy to be happy, upbeat and positive when everything’s rosy. Navigating the emotional roller-coaster of infertility, without losing yourself and giving into obsession is no mean feat. So, just now, my book is being read by some willing volunteers on their own fertility journey and it may undergo some final edits before it’s brought forth into the world, via Kindle Publishing Direct. Watch this space…

Tori x