Over the course of about a year and a half, I experienced four miscarriages.
At the same time, I was navigating infertility. I was going through IVF while in pain. I was recovering from medical procedures and surgeries I never imagined I would need. And in the middle of all of it, my husband was diagnosed with testicular cancer.
None of these things happened one at a time. They overlapped. Everything felt like it was happening at once, and life did not pause to give us space to process any of it.
We already had a daughter. She was five years old at the time, full of energy, questions, and life. I was trying to be present for her while carrying grief I did not know how to explain. I was trying to keep routines normal while my world felt anything but normal. I was trying to protect her from fear while quietly learning how to live with it myself.
From the outside, it might look like I kept moving forward anyway. In reality, most days moving forward looked very small. Getting through appointments. Making decisions while exhausted. Showing up when I did not feel strong.
Along the way, endometriosis was identified. It was not the main cause of everything I went through, but it explained some of the chronic pain my body had been dealing with for years. Like many women, answers did not arrive early or neatly. They arrived slowly, alongside everything else I was carrying.
There was no moment where I suddenly felt strong.
I just kept going.
When cancer entered our IVF journey
My husband’s testicular cancer diagnosis changed everything.
Cancer is often talked about in clinical terms, treatment plans, statistics, and outcomes. What is spoken about far less is what it feels like to try to make life defining decisions while living in constant uncertainty.
One of the hardest parts of this season was deciding whether to continue with IVF while my husband was sick.
I remember lying awake at night asking myself questions that had no clear answer. Do we keep going? Do we pause? What happens if I fall pregnant and my husband does not recover? What does it mean to bring a baby into the world when nothing feels stable?
There was a very real fear that if I continued with IVF and became pregnant, I could be bringing a baby into the world without a husband. That thought was terrifying. It was confronting. And it was something I never imagined having to consider.
At the same time, fertility does not wait. Cancer does not arrive at a convenient moment. There was no perfect choice, only the one we could live with.
While my husband underwent surgery and chemotherapy, while he was unwell, exhausted, and scared, we made the decision to keep moving forward. Not because it felt brave, but because it felt honest to where we were.
Today, I am grateful to say that over a year later, my husband is doing well. His health has stabilised. And I am now one month away from welcoming our miracle baby boy into the world.
Hope did not erase what came before. It simply allowed us to keep moving forward.
What helped when nothing could be fixed
There was no mindset shift that made this season easier. I was not looking for silver linings. I was looking for ways to cope, physically and emotionally, so I could keep functioning.
Small, practical supports mattered. Heat was one of them.
I used heat packs during IVF, after D&Cs, during post surgery recovery, and on days when my body felt inflamed, sore, and overwhelmed. Heat did not change what I was going through, but it helped calm my nervous system and ease some of the physical discomfort. That mattered more than I realised at the time.
That is why KOSI resonated so strongly with me. Women’s pain is rarely just one thing. It often sits across fertility treatment, miscarriage, surgery recovery, chronic pain, and emotional stress. Support needs to reflect that reality.
Building while life was still hard
Some of the most meaningful things I have created were built during this season, not after it was over.
In the middle of everything, I co created a podcast called Her Kind of Brave. I wanted to hear women speak honestly about what it looks like to keep going when life is heavy. Not experts. Not advice. Just real stories about illness, loss, motherhood, identity, and rebuilding.
Listening to other women’s stories helped me feel less alone. Sharing those conversations felt important.
You can listen to Her Kind of Brave here:
That same desire for honesty led me to create In Her Own Words: IVF, Loss & Miracles. The book shares real fertility stories from women, told exactly as they lived them. Some stories end in babies. Some do not. All of them reflect what it looks like to keep going when the path is uncertain. Fifty percent of the proceeds are donated to Pink Elephants Support Network.
You can find the book here.
And the community around it here.
Continuing to build through cancer
At the same time, my husband and I continued building our business, Mr Consistent.
During his cancer journey, we created the Pink Margarita. It was not created as a celebration. It was created during a period where life felt fragile and uncertain. The Pink Margi supports the McGrath Foundation and helps fund McGrath Cancer Care Nurses for families navigating cancer across Australia.
If you would like to support that work, you can find it here.
Why I am sharing this here
I am sharing this story on KOSI’s blog because this is where women often come when they are searching for relief, understanding, and reassurance. Many are navigating pain, recovery, fertility challenges, or loss.
I know how easy it is to look at your life when multiple hard things are stacked on top of each other and think, I cannot do anything else until this gets easier.
What this season taught me is that you do not wait for everything to settle before you keep going. You move forward with what you have, even if it is imperfect.
If you want to understand more about how I navigated this season, the miscarriages, IVF, chronic pain, cancer, and the decisions that helped me keep going, I share it more deeply through my writing and conversations.
You can follow along with my personal reflections here.
I am still here. Still learning. Still moving forward.
And if you are reading this wondering how you will get through what you are facing, you do not have to do it all at once.
You just take the next step.
Walk with me next
If this story resonated, you are welcome to keep walking with me through shared stories, honest conversations, and the reminder that even in hard seasons, you are not alone.
