When the time comes to move on in infertility …

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The last of winter’s chilly breath is rushing through the trees. I already smell the hints of spring flowing in through my window, along with the warm morning sun spilling onto my writing desk as the soft white lace curtains sway gently, and quite romantically, in the breeze.


“Here I am,” I think to myself as I sit writing.


“Here I am at the end of a journey.” 

It’s been a joy writing for the Slow Swimmers and Fried Eggs blog. For two years now, this blog has given me a voice. It has offered me a safe space to share my experiences, to explore my thoughts, to be honest about fertility struggles and the realities of various infertility related topics. I’ve learnt so much about myself. It’s been a place of personal growth for me, as I’ve had to stretch myself to dig deeper along the way. There were days when I didn’t know what to write about, but somehow found new topics of interest to explore. I gained many new insights when I did background research for the blog posts, broader perspectives and different ways of looking at things. I do hope that I’ve been able to offer insight, encouragement, comfort and inspiration to the readers here. It is so important that we feel seen, heard and that we see ourselves represented. I am thus always so grateful for opportunities to make contributions that I hope will allow women going through infertility to feel less alone.

Outside my window, the mulberry tree is dotted in tiny new leaves and buds. The cosmos and spinach seedlings are slowly pushing their soft green fronds through the dry winter soil.

A month ago, when I chatted to my grandmother on the phone, she told me that from the week of the 15th of August, trees would start putting out new leaf shoots and the signs of our Southern hemisphere Spring will start making themselves known. I was intrigued by how specific she was, pinning things down to the exact date. I decided to pay close attention and she was quite right. Mother Nature seemed to know exactly when the time had come for a shift, and right on cue she breathed life back into the hibernating earth. It reminded me how important it is to pay attention to the signs in our life, the nudges in our bodies, the intuitive whispers that guide us and to shift forward when they call us to. In the process of this shifting, letting go is scary, but there is always something that lets us know when the time comes – when it is time to step forward into the ‘wild unknown’, time for our next chapter. The same is true in infertility – there comes a moment when we recognize it is time for hard decisions, for lifestyle changes, for new fertility doctors, for seeking out extra support, time for trying different kinds of fertility treatment, time to take a break, or ultimately time to graduate from a preconception to a prenatal state of mind.

The spritely robins dash around my fragrant herbal garden inspecting the changes I’ve made. The bright yellow weaver plucks strips of palm leaves to build another nest, while the laughing doves coddle the eggs in their new nest amidst the sturdy cypress tree branches.

My personal fertility journey continues on its winding path. I’ll be doing an egg quality nutritional therapy program while we try to get an appointment at a new fertility clinic. In my heart, I’m holding out hope that in due time, I’ll have a nest with babies of my own to coddle. In all the things that are changing, that sense of hope and anticipation is one thing that remains constant. However, as I make room for change, make space for new business projects and try my best to create more balance for myself, I will sadly no longer be writing here on the Slow Swimmers and Fried Eggs blog. I’ll say once again that I am so grateful to have been able to contribute to this incredible platform. I cannot overlook how this journey has helped me find meaning in my struggles and given me a much needed sense of purpose. Although it is a little sad that this road has come to an end, I am excited to open up space for a new writer and look forward to learning about their experiences and perspectives.

The wind picks up and the mid-morning sky is a clear and brilliant blue. As I search my heart for closing words, the only thing that comes to mind is this:

Dear Mother-in-the-Making


May your heart be nourished

May your dreams be blessed

May you be held in love

on your path to motherhood 

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