I sat down with my beautiful friend Crissy to discuss all things motherhood. Although Mother's Day is such a beautiful day, it can be a difficult time for those that are missing mothers or longing to be mothers. Thank you Crissy for bravely sharing your story. 

 

What does Mother’s Day mean to you?

Mother’s Day, to me, has always been a beautiful day to celebrate my own mum. But I also think it’s a special day to acknowledge and honour other maternal figures – like step mums, grandparents, solo parents, intended mums, and those mums who are no longer with us.

It’s a day I’ve longed to personally celebrate for as long as I can remember. Over the past ten years especially, watching so many friends and family celebrate this day with their families has been incredibly hard. I’ve found it painful at times, as I still haven’t had the experience of becoming a maternal mother myself.

 

You’ve been so open in sharing your IVF journey in the hope that others feel less alone, which I commend you for. Can you detail a little bit of what that looked like before your cancer diagnosis?

I spent most of my life in heterosexual relationships, dreaming of the classic nuclear family. In my late 20s I was in a serious relationship that led to marriage. We tried for a baby for some time, and when it wasn’t happening, we began fertility treatment for what was deemed unexplained infertility. But that relationship wasn’t right for me, and I made the choice to leave. After divorcing at 32, I decided to freeze my eggs for the first time as fertility preservation – and had great success.

A year later, during lockdown, I met someone new and the relationship moved quickly. We started trying to conceive naturally, but I was told I had blocked tubes and suspected endometriosis. I had a laparoscopy and was told to wait until things were healed. That relationship also ended.

At 35 and single, I made the brave decision to stop waiting for the ‘right partner’ to start a family with and instead pursue my dream of motherhood solo. I started to notice how much pressure that longing placed on my relationships, so I registered with Melbourne IVF to join their sperm donor list and kept moving forward.

Around that time, I also began exploring my sexuality and met an incredible woman — now my wife — who already had two beautiful children, aged 9 and 14. I was upfront with her about wanting to continue my journey to motherhood, and she supported me wholeheartedly. What began as my dream soon became our shared dream to expand our family together.

In April 2023, I did my second egg collection and had great success — 21 eggs. Following that success, we made embryos with donor sperm, and I did my first embryo transfer on 22 April 2023. Unfortunately, the first one didn’t stick, so I went back in May and did another transfer. To my amazement, I fell pregnant. It was the most hopeful I’d felt. But just a few weeks later, in June, I had a chemical pregnancy and miscarriage — it was a heartbreaking loss and the closest I’ve come to carrying a baby.

Finally, in October, I decided to do one more egg collection so we could make more embryos. But things didn’t go to plan. I had a very low result compared to previous times, and when I woke up, the pain was horrendous and things didn’t feel right.

On 21 October 2023, I ended up in the emergency department with ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome — a rare IVF complication — and a burst follicle. It was the worst, most uncomfortable pain I’ve ever experienced. I knew something was very wrong. That night, I lost a lot of blood and had my second laparoscopy —this time an emergency one — to stop the internal bleeding that was making me seriously unwell and could have killed me.

Then, just ten days later, after finally recovering from that ordeal and getting ready to plan the next IVF steps, I went back to see my breast specialist about a lump I had found in September. On 31 October, I was diagnosed with breast cancer at 36. 

 

Then the f*cking cancer diagnosis comes along. What were you told about your fertility and how treatment would affect your ability to become a mother?

By the time they found the cancer, everything moved so fast. There wasn’t enough time for more fertility preservation, and honestly, I was completely overwhelmed. 

I needed to start chemotherapy straight away, as it was Stage 3. I was told the treatment would likely damage my reproductive system and possibly push me into early menopause.

At 36, I was put on hormone-suppressing medication to shut down my ovaries and protect them as much as possible. I was also told I’d need to wait at least two years from diagnosis before it would be safe to try again. But with the trauma my body had been through, the fact I’d be nearing 40 by then, and my pre-existing fertility challenges — make things very difficult. 

 

Where are you at with your journey to motherhood now?

Right now, I’m still in that two-year waiting period — with about six months to go. First, I need to get through my next round of PET scans and tests in October to make sure I’m two years cancer-free.

My top priority is staying healthy and cancer-free. I’ve had to shift my focus from becoming a biological mother to simply surviving and healing from that whole ordeal and all the hospital visits. There’s been so much sadness and grief about that. If being infertile wasn’t hard enough, cancer came along and stuffed up my timeline.

I still hold hope that I might be able to use the three remaining embryos I have frozen, at some point, if my doctors say it’s safe. But I’m much more realistic now, and my thoughts about motherhood have shifted. Some days I think I’m content with what I have, and other days I still long for the chance to be a biological mother.

That said, something really beautiful has happened in the past year — I’ve become a full-time step-parent to two incredible teenagers, and I’ve focused on building a loving relationship with my wife. We all moved in together and we’re currently living in Bali. The bond I’ve built with the kids brings me so much joy. It’s not the journey I expected, and it’s hard not having been there from the beginning, but it’s the closest I’ve come to feeling like a mum, and I’m grateful to my wife for bringing me in and giving me the family I always wished for.

Some days I still long to carry and birth my own child, and then on other days, I feel content with what I have. But for the time being, I’m learning to find peace with what I have right now — the love and family that exist around me now.

Mother’s Day still matters to me — and I’ve realised I can celebrate it, even if it looks a little different than I once imagined.

Thank you Crissy, for your openness and bravery in sharing. I know this story with have a next chapter xx

 

Crissy and her step-daughter Amaiya

Crissy and her wife, Aimee on their wedding day.