Weekend Gold Coast Bulletin

Mum’s the word for this warrior

After years of her own long and at times traumatic journey to parenthood, Jennifer Robertson is now helping other women in their quest.

- WITH ANN WASON MOORE

JENNIFER Robertson is a fertility warrior. And all it took was seven years, nine IVF cycles, a surrogacy baby, two miscarriag­es and a surprise natural baby.

To round out those bitterswee­t achievemen­ts, she also spent years touring multiple doctors, specialist­s, explorator­y surgeries, homoeopath­ic remedies, acupunctur­e, fertility diets, supplement­s and even managed to experience the magic of Viagra pessaries.

For the former chief financial officer of Australia Zoo and self-confessed type-a personalit­y, this was not part of the plan. Instead, she’s made it her purpose.

Now based in Robina with her husband Craig and miracle children Luca, 7, and Sophie, 6, Jen is a fertility coach, helping other women through every part of their journey, including pregnancy itself.

Because, as Jen herself learned the hard way, the anxiety and trauma born of battling infertilit­y, miscarriag­e and stillbirth does not disappear at the birth of a healthy baby.

In fact, she literally wrote the book on it.

The author of The Injustice of Infertilit­y is also a personal fertility coach and runs Your Pregnancy Haven, an online community for pregnant women who have previously suffered infertilit­y and loss.

It’s a long way from her days running the books of one of Australia’s greatest tourism assets, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I think this is what I’m here for, to help other women through this journey,” she says.

“It’s so incredibly and heartbreak­ingly common, but we still just don’t talk about it enough.

“Trying to have a family is not always a joyous occasion.

“It can be stressful, expensive, devastatin­g, isolating and soul-destroying.

“I’m not here for medical advice, that’s what all of the doctors and specialist­s are for.

“But the sad truth is that while they are great at the science, so often in their offices there is a woman just crumbling in front of them and they can do nothing about it.

“I’m here to try to fill that gap.”

After all, when it comes to the rollercoas­ter of fertility, Jen has lived all of the ups and downs.

Even if, when it began, she was anything but prepared for what was to come.

It was on her honeymoon that Jen decided it was time to start a family.

So confident was this perfection­ist accountant, used to numbers adding up in tidy columns, that she cleared her calendar in nine months’ time.

Yet six months later, she had nothing to show but negative pregnancy tests.

“We ended up going to a fertility specialist just to make sure that there was nothing wrong with us. They told us Craig’s sperm was ‘sub-par’ but there wasn’t any reason why we shouldn’t be able to fall pregnant via IVF.”

The couple decided on the path of IVF but halfway through the first cycle, doctors told Jen she had a non-existent endometriu­m – meaning there was no lining on her uterus for the embryo to stick to … and no point in completing the cycle.

For the next six months, she and Craig searched for the magic cure to thicken her lining, which is where the Viagra

pessaries fit in (the pill increases blood flow, which is necessary for the lining).

But after another nine gruelling IVF cycles, the couple were given more devastatin­g news.

“Eventually, our fertility specialist at the time said, ‘There’s no other way that you’re going to have a baby of your own without using a surrogate’,” says Jen.

“Being a control freak by nature, the thought of handing over such a huge responsibi­lity to another woman sent me into a tail spin. This was not how I had pictured it.

“But we were lucky. My husband’s sister, who had witnessed our heartbreak over the last year, generously and selflessly volunteere­d to have a baby for us.

“For the next six months we went through the necessary legal process – going before a board of doctors to determine there was no other path for us but surrogacy, copious medical tests, counsellin­g on both sides, a team of lawyers to draw up and sign a surrogacy agreement, and a bucketload of money. It was a mission, but I figured it was smooth sailing from there.”

Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. Instead, it was another two years of heartbreak, this time with Jen’s sister-in-law dragged along for the ride.

After nine cycles of egg re

trievals and failed implants, Jen’s sister-in-law was finally pregnant.

And then she miscarried. “It was so devastatin­g for all of us. Added to my grief was the guilt that I was putting her through this,” says Jen.

“But finally she was pregnant again and this one stuck. And nine months later we had our son, Luca. Then two weeks later, I discovered that I was pregnant naturally.”

While Jen miscarried that pregnancy nine weeks later, she had at least discovered that her body could do it.

And six months later she was pregnant again with the baby who became her daughter, Sophie.

Yet even as she held her son and daughter safely in her arms after that seven-year journey, the fear and anxiety would not leave her body.

“Pregnancy and parenting after fertility and loss is coloured by that trauma,” she says.

“The fragility of life is still at the forefront of your mind.

“Even when that baby is in your arms, the fear and grief is not over. You can still be triggered just by people talking about carefree pregnancie­s.

“It’s an area where there isn’t much support, and that’s where I come in – whether you’re pregnant, a new mother or still on the fertility journey.

“With women who are struggling to get pregnant, I try to teach them ways to navigate all the mix of emotions on their journey. It can be so isolating – especially when you feel you need to shut yourself off from friends with babies, family with babies, social media where pregnancy posts are everywhere … it’s a life filled with emotional landmines.

“I try to manage their expectatio­ns and help them through the ups and downs, whether that’s IVF, natural conception or surrogacy, its learning to manage triggers to ask for what they need. It’s also about trying to continue to live life, not putting everything on hold.

“For women who have gone

The thought of handing over such a huge responsibi­lity to another woman sent me into a tail spin

through all of this and then become pregnant, the struggle doesn’t end. Everyone loves a pregnant woman, but they don’t understand that for these women their mean emotion is fear, not excitement.

“You’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Seven years on from that seven-year journey, Jen says she believes she is in the right place at the right time.

Her business helping women face their fertility struggles is booming, and she says living on the Gold Coast has helped her find the inner peace she needs to do her job.

She made the tough decision to leave her role at Australia Zoo three years ago and says while she loved her previous career, she has never regretted the move.

“When I quit it was a huge transition. We quit our jobs, sold our house and moved down to the Gold Coast all within one week,” she says.

“But this is what I was meant to do and where I’m meant to be. I realised I wanted to be home with my children and helping women and that meant letting go of the corporate world. And that was the right call. Living here has been so good for our family, and the environmen­t itself really helps.

“This is a role that really takes it out of you, to be beside the beach is such a solace.

“I’m studying right now to become a holistic life coach and mind body practition­er because one of the most important things we can do, whether you’re trying to get pregnant or are a new mum or just anyone dealing with anything, is to reduce stress.

“You have to almost trick your mind into not worrying and that positively affects your body.

“That’s what I really love about coaching, counsellor­s help you look back and understand, but coaches move you forward.”

And for this fertility warrior, that’s the only direction she wants to go.

 ?? ?? Jennifer Robertson with her husband Craig, son Luca and daughter Sophie.
Jennifer Robertson with her husband Craig, son Luca and daughter Sophie.
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