FAMILY FORTUNE
With a dangerous eating disorder in her twenties and the threat of early menopause in her thirties, presenter Zoe Hardman has overcome her share of setbacks to feel her happiest – and she has her body to thank for it
Why the odds were against Zoe Hardman becoming a mother
We all have those ‘pinch me’ moments where, all of a sudden, reality packs more of a punch than your dreams ever promised. Sitting contentedly in a sun-drenched local park with my beautiful daughter Luna at my side, it doesn’t fail to hit me that this is one of those times – and that I have so much worth pinching myself for, it’s a surprise I’m not covered in bruises. But before you write me off as smug, know that there was a time I thought I’d never be a mum, or find a person I wanted to have children with. It’s only now, at 34, I have what I always knew I wanted – and can accept and love my body for what it’s done for me. But it’s been a bloody hard slog to get here. Rewind to my early twenties and I’d been catapulted into the public eye thanks to a TV game show called Playing it Straight which, while it opened doors to my future career as a presenter, came with a very real downside. Comments from viewers about my weight hit home – hard – and suddenly, out of nowhere, anorexia knocked me off my feet. According to the official statistics, my age made me a latecomer; I was 22 when my weight became the driving force behind all my decisions, whereas NHS data shows that the majority of sufferers develop eating disorders in their late teens.
I began skipping meals and my weight dropped below 7st, which at 5ft 4in made my BMI 16.1 (anything below 18.5 is considered underweight with risk of health complications). But I didn’t think about what it might mean for my health. When you’re in the grip of an eating disorder, it controls you; I was in the midst of a deep, dark illness and I didn’t know how to come out the other side. For four years, I hid behind a smokescreen of exercise. I lied to my family and partner about what I was eating, but because I was working out every day and my naturally petite body looked lean and toned rather than stick-thin, I got away with it. That’s not to say those around me didn’t have suspicions, and it’s only now, being a mum, that I realise what I put my parents through. I was their baby and in pain, but they couldn’t make me better. My relationship with my then-partner broke down – it’s so painful to see someone you love struggle to make the right choices for their own body. It was a chance visit to my GP that saved my life. I’d been struggling with agonising lower back pain and thought it might have been my kidneys. When I mentioned my symptoms. the doctor looked me straight in the eye and told me my body was shutting down. There was little I could do to argue because it was true; I hadn’t had a period for over five years and my body fat clocked in at 7%, shockingly low given the average healthy woman’s is 22%. The light bulb moment came when she told me that, if I wanted to be a mum, I had to recognise the illness and seek help immediately. It was as if I’d been sitting in a dark room and someone just flipped the switch to flood it with light. I had always dreamed of being a mum – I was terrified I’d lost the chance. I’ll always be grateful to my doctor. My parents had tried for a long time to get through to me but having a medical professional put the health risks to me in such real terms tipped me over the edge to seek help. Recovery wasn’t quick or easy – my issues with eating ran too deep to simply decide to put more food into my body. It took three years to feel normal again, and a big part of that was Overeaters Anonymous, a support group for people with eating disorders. Sharing with others was a lifeline because I no longer felt like I was struggling on my own. Anorexia can be incredibly lonely because of the shame you feel about your body and the lies you’re forced to tell to the people closest to you. Fighting to overcome it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but being able to sit next to people and think, ‘I’m doing what you’re doing and I’m feeling how you’re feeling,’ was amazing. For anyone struggling with an eating disorder, I can’t encourage you enough to reach out to OA; it was my saviour. I came to relish the way my body revealed the love I was finally showing it; my hair grew thicker and glossier, my skin became brighter and, most importantly, my periods returned. As the months went by and the burden on my shoulders felt like it was lifting, I could believe my body was back to the way it should be. In February 2015, my sister Kathryn got married. Standing beside her as maid of honour, I couldn’t have been happier. I felt completely comfortable in my own skin, on show in front of our friends and family. Talk soon turned to children – Kathryn had always wanted kids. So I excitedly readied myself to be an auntie. Within a month or so of coming off the pill, her body began showing signs of change: her periods stopped, her joints ached and she started having night sweats. She put it all down to falling pregnant – we were ecstatic. But pregnancy tests came back negative and my mum’s excitement grew quiet. She’d gone through early menopause at 40 – my grandmother at 42. Kathryn was only 34, but Mum recognised the signs. Kathryn was referred for fertility tests and her worst nightmare was confirmed: she had no eggs. She would never have children. Taking the pill from 16 had lulled her into a false sense of security, feeding her body with oestrogen to deliver a ‘fake’ period every month. She was devastated. And the bad news continued. My mum, grandmother and sister had all suffered the same fate, so was I next? And when would it hit? At 32, for the second time in my life, I thought my hopes of being a mum were over. I was in a new relationship at the time. Paul [Doran-jones, a rugby player for Gloucester] and I had been dating for five months and we had an amazing connection from day one, but it was still a difficult conversation to have. ‘Hey, I know we’re still figuring out what each other likes to eat for dinner but just a heads-up: I might not have any eggs, and if I do I’ll be looking to freeze them quick sharp.’ Not your average chat during the honeymoon period. It turned out my body’s level of AMH, a protein hormone made by cells in the ovaries that helps indicate your egg reserve, was shockingly low at 2.3 – a number you’d expect for a woman in her fifties. And so came the dreaded conversation, the same one I’d had with my GP six years earlier: ‘If you don’t do something now, you won’t be able to have kids.’ Unlike Kathryn, I had a small number of eggs left, so I began the process of harvesting them in the hope I could freeze them for the future, for when Paul and I had been together a bit longer. I injected my stomach with the follicle-stimulating hormone Gonal-f for 14 days to encourage the few eggs I had to mature
‘I’D ALWAYS DREAMED OF BEING A MUM. I WAS TERRIFIED I’D LOST THE CHANCE’
but it was in vain – just one out of five matured, much lower than the typical 15 to 20, and my surgeon called off the harvesting procedure. I went into meltdown. Standing outside Baker Street station in August 2015, I called Paul in tears, trying to work out if there was anything else I could try (a different concoction of fertility drugs, perhaps?) and he simply asked, ‘Why don’t we try naturally?’ It was a massive leap of faith, but we felt such a special bond between us. We started trying a month later and, despite biology being against us, my body delivered. I fell pregnant on New Year’s Eve. Seeing my body change was tough, even with my eating disorder behind me, but I felt so lucky, I was determined to enjoy every moment of my pregnancy. Yes, I grew bigger; yes, I gained 16kg; no, my boobs will never be the same again – but I owed it to myself, and to Kathryn, to feel nothing but elation. Luna was born in September 2016 after a 49-hour labour (not to mention the epidural, episiotomy and forceps delivery), and three months later, Paul proposed in front of my family on Christmas Eve. Together with his daughter Isla, we’re a family of four, and nothing is more important to me. Things have been tough and there have been times I’ve wondered how – and even if – things could turn around, but all of those times have led me to this day, right now, where I’m not sure I could ask for more. It’s why, when I speak to women who are going through the things I’ve gone through, or other health issues that leave them doubting themselves or their bodies, I tell them never to give up hope. When it comes to my body, it’s been as much about the journey as where I am today.