How did my life go from glam to mam in a few short years…? Mag hag one minute, mum with a baby bag slung over my shoulder the next. In a nutshell, I grew up in small town NZ, one of two kids in a single parent family. In that small town is where I met the (first) love of my life, my childhood sweetheart. A few (well, seven or eight if you want round figures) years later I married my crazy-in-love first crush and we moved to the Big Smoke, Auckland (no, contrary to popular belief it is not the capital city of New Zealand, that would be Wellington. And it’s windy there).

After many years of hard slog spent mopping news room floors (no, I wasn’t a cleaner but I did start at the bottom) I landed my career high – editing Girlfriend and a bridal title. Along the way I met a few famous people, and a few more infamous ones that I’d rather forget – though never got to meet my one celeb girl-crush Madge. I was part of the mag hag crowd faster than you could say Anna Wintour’s bob. And shit did I love it. But I knew there was something missing in our lives.

After a few years of wedded bliss I got pregnant and our gorgeously handsome and perfectly magical little 8 pd 3 oz baby boy came into our world. He had me at hello. But it wasn’t long before my husband’s itchy feet to cross the ditch got the better of him and with a six week old baby in tow, I packed up and jumped the Tasman. Life was face-achingly perfect. The sort of happy family photo shit you get when you buy one of those wooden picture frames. With an emphasis on was.

Then in 2006, the plug got pulled. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I collapsed. My first love was tragically taken from our lives in a motorsport accident. He was gone and our tiny boy was not even three years old. After 72 hours of no sleep, fear, tears, my insides collapsing, I watched his daddy slip from this world with machines hooked up to his body and the life gone from his soul.  I will never forget that moment as long as I live. The day that changed me forever.

I didn’t think I would ever feel happy again. Left to raise a kid on my own, which went against everything I had ever promised myself growing up. I struggled to even get out of bed in let alone trying to be a mummy and a daddy all rolled into one. Filling two roles when you’re not even sure if you can find the strength for one takes every bit of courage and every bit of sense you can possibly muster. I carried my grief, and his too. But I made it. We made it out alive.

Then one lucky day fate came to visit once more but this time she shone light down on me and I met The Vet, he’s the man responsible for giving me back my happy. We got married two years later and my heart was once again full. I could never have imagined this incredible man being in my life, and taking on the role of Dad for my boy. Lucky doesn’t even do it justice. We are truly and bloody well blessed.

The only thing left was to add to our beautiful family. The Vet has a heart and soul that is all too generous and beautiful to not have any more of him in the world. The one thing I want to give him is a small version of us. Mother Nature though, she be having other ideas and it would seem the word Infertility (along with a few other expletives) would be used in our vocabulary an awful lot.

The disappointment of finding out my dear old ovaries are not the kindly offering things they once were…that my egg count is sitting somewhere lower than Justin Beiber’s pants and my uterus appears to be more hostile than a Melbourne Housewife at a shoe sale was and continues to be one of the biggest blows to my womanhood.

We’re supposed to procreate…that’s our job isn’t it? Apparently not for all of us.

Five rounds of IVF, nine embryo transfers and one early miscarriage later…I’m about as close as it comes to being on the brink. Just one last try we promise ourselves…

I spend hours pouring over baby rooms and imagining our tiny bundle – what he’ll look like, who she’ll take after – and hope against all hope one day we might get lucky. After all Fertility really is three parts science and one part luck isn’t it…? Well send that green midget Lepracaun my way, pleeeease. I should also point out I’m a Scorpio – which means I never forget…and sometimes, never forgive. I love chocolate, cheesecake and Paige jeans (Verdugo ultra skinny size 26 if you’re asking, paigedenimusa). I have a fear of needles (especially really big ones that go in your back) I hate snakes and rats make my skin crawl.

I’ve come to accept that almost nothing in my wardrobe fits me anymore (thank you steroids and hormone injections) I’ve had a ridiculous amount of general anaesthetics in one year, in fact I’m surprised I lived to even write this and I’ve said goodbye to the best part of my thirties. Oh and I did once come second in a beauty pageant…if you really cared? Probably not but I’ll cling to it goddamn it. I also have a strong distaste for tanlines.

Why 30SomethingMama? Okay, if we’re being honest then yep, it’s my age and yes, I am obsessed with my fertility and no, age isn’t helping all that much. For anyone out there in the grips of a fertility hold – or lack thereof, I’m your good old agony aunt. If the tales I tell make you feel better about your own journey through shit town then I’ve done my job.

Love n’ hugs, Lady Mama G xx

Lady MamaG and her two special boys…The Vet and The 9 y o…

And…The Mutt