Faith, Hope…& Destiny

Clair re­fused to give up on her quest to be­come a mum...

Pick Me Up! - - OUR PICK ME UPS! - Clair Mcg­lynn, 39, Cheshunt, Herts

Sit­ting in bed next to my boyfriend Sam, I pointed at the lap­top screen. ‘How about this one?’ I asked him.

We weren’t choos­ing our next Net­flix se­ries or a hol­i­day des­ti­na­tion, but a sperm donor.

We’d been try­ing for a baby for five years, and now I was try­ing to per­suade Sam that this route was worth ex­plor­ing.

Tests had shown that Sam wasn’t able to have chil­dren. Only, he didn’t want to use a donor – he wanted the baby to be ours ge­net­i­cally.

And I didn’t want to con­sider adop­tion. I wanted so badly to carry my own child.

I prayed every day that we’d find a com­pro­mise. We were in love, af­ter all. But it was no good. My yearn­ing for a baby was too strong.

First steps

Three months later, when Sam was away with friends, I made the heart­break­ing de­ci­sion to leave our shared home.

I moved back in with my par­ents Wendy, 58, and Jim, 62. It was so sad, but I still had that over­whelm­ing urge to carry a baby, to be a mum. So I went to the GP. But… ‘As a sin­gle woman you don’t qual­ify for IVF,’ I was told.

Next, I went to a fer­til­ity

show at an ex­hi­bi­tion cen­tre in Lon­don, where I came across a clinic lo­cal to me.

‘We help sin­gle women have ba­bies,’ they said.

Was this my chance?

I booked a con­sul­ta­tion in Oc­to­ber 2012, and had tests. But doc­tors had bad news. ‘We’re sorry, but your hor­mone lev­els are low, which means you would have trou­ble con­ceiv­ing,’ one said.

My only chance

This twist of fate felt like a knife in my gut.

‘You have a less than 20 per cent chance,’ the doc­tor added. But I’d come this far...

‘What are the other op­tions?’ I asked de­fi­antly.

The an­swer was to use donor sperm and donor eggs.

The em­bryos would be im­planted in my uterus, and the ba­bies would grow in­side me.

It was my only chance. I’d have a preg­nancy bump, de­liver my ba­bies, cra­dle them in my arms and call them my chil­dren.

In the run up to the pro­ce­dure, I de­cided my body would now be a tem­ple.

I even went on a re­treat to Por­tu­gal to detox, read loads of spir­i­tual books, and med­i­tated.

Mum was my rock, com­ing with me to every ap­point­ment.

The first at­tempt in May 2013 was aban­doned due to com­pli­ca­tions with the egg donor.

I was dev­as­tated, but not de­feated.

Even­tu­ally, in Novem­ber 2014, I tried again, us­ing money from sell­ing the house that Sam and I had shared.

Two em­bryos were im­planted. Twins would be amaz­ing!

I thought hope­fully, pray­ing with all my heart they’d both sur­vive and de­velop.

This time, my body soon felt very dif­fer­ent. I had sore boobs, tummy pains…

Could it be..?

My friend Car­ley, 32, came round and sat with me while I waited for the home test re­sult. And, a few sec­onds later… Preg­nant!

‘All th­ese years, and I’ve done it!’ I cried, over­come with joy.


At seven weeks, I had a scan, and there they were – the twins I’d dreamed of con­ceiv­ing.

My mir­a­cles. Finally.

My preg­nancy was amaz­ing. It felt like it was meant to be.

In Au­gust 2015, I was taken into hos­pi­tal to be in­duced. Only, three days later, still noth­ing had hap­pened.

‘We need to do an emer­gency Cae­sarean,’ doc­tors told me.

So off I went to the­atre, my sis­ter Lisa, 40, com­ing in to be there with me for the op.

Af­ter gas and air, I felt so woozy, I was barely able to hold my new daugh­ters. But I did – just for a mo­ment.

I’d al­ready cho­sen the names Faith and Hope.

Faith ar­rived first, weigh­ing 6lb 1oz, then Hope at 5lb 13oz.

Twenty min­utes later, we were all in Re­cov­ery, and that’s when it truly sank in. I held the girls, speech­less with won­der.

Now they’re al­most 2, and have very dif­fer­ent char­ac­ters.

Hope’s a feisty lit­tle thing, while Faith’s calmer. They’re walk­ing and talk­ing, they love colour­ing and count­ing.

Every time they call out, ‘Mummy!’ my heart soars.

I be­lieve Faith and Hope were my destiny.

Hav­ing them wasn’t easy, but the jour­ney was worth every emo­tional se­cond.

THE MO­MENT I’D Al­ways DREAMED Of! At seven weeks, I had a scan – and there they were...

Now nearly 2, Hope, left, and Faith are my mir­a­cles

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