You may have run your eyes over my brief, concise and completely sarcastic bio. It’s quite ironic that I was writing that bio while my 13 week old was perfectly nestled in my bed next to me, sleeping peacefully with a beautiful smile on his face.

This blog is here to talk about why that is so far from normal for us, and why that has made me so far from happy.

The best place to start would be when I met Steven. Steven, my darling partner, and I met in April 2016, just after my birthday (not that long ago, right?) and we immediately hit it off. We lived 4 hours apart, and began making the trips every weekend to see each other.

I was working in Child Protection, and moved to a country town looking to gain more experience working with Aboriginal people. I was in a good place. I had my own house, my dog, I had a new car and a really good network of friends, life was happy for me. Steven wasn’t in such a good place. He was nursing wounds from a past breakup, he was living at home with his Dad, and had a casual job as an electrician.

So, quickly, we move in together. Steven brings 3 bags of stuff and starts a new job as the new sparky in town. Things are as close to bliss as possible, until I get some unbelievable pain in my abdomen.

I have Endometriosis, and I’ve had a few surgeries, but at the last surgery they found that my right ovary is just a big cyst now. So when I got the pain I thought, holy sh*t, that cyst has exploded and I’m probably going to die (yeah, relax Elicia). The hospital admitted me and scanned me, and everything was fine but my endometriosis had come back so severely that the sonographer could see it on the ultra sound, and asked me if she could use my ultrasound for educational purposes (sure, why not).

Then my beautiful IVF specialist nurse of  a mother puts the pressure on; it’s surgery, or a baby.

So we choose baby.

And now we’re here.

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