Lindsay is the kind of person who, when she decides something is happening, makes it happen.

She promised herself at 27 — the day she left her marriage — that not having a partner would never mean not having a child. She promised herself again at 30, moving to Scotland on her own without knowing a single person. And she promised herself at 35 that if she was still single, she would make it happen that year. She was. She did.

One round of IVF at Melbourne IVF. Nineteen eggs retrieved. Six embryos. A frozen transfer in December, just before her 36th birthday. A positive result over Christmas. A water birth with a doula at 37 weeks and two days — the day after her last day of work, standing in the rain doing tram duty. Aric is now eight months old. She's back teaching full time. She's planning to donate her eggs.

Lindsay is a maths and science teacher at an independent school in Melbourne. She navigated her entire IVF journey secretly, before the pregnancy was announced, managing scans and blood tests around the school day. She came back to work at five months and has spent term one figuring out what it actually means to be a full-time teacher and a full-time solo mum simultaneously — including more sick days than she's had in six years, a daycare she describes as phenomenal, and a WhatsApp group of five women from the Preparing for Solo Motherhood course who all had babies in the same year and are now, she says, the best thing in her life besides Aric.

This is a story for anyone who's been putting it off, thinks their journey will be long, or isn't sure how it's going to work with their job. Lindsay's answer to all of it is the same: you decide, and then you make it work.

Leaving her marriage at 27 and her mum's advice that changed everything

Living and working in Scotland at 30, dating with the FYI conversation, and the decision point at 35

The public fertility waitlist in Victoria — what it is, how long it takes, and why she's glad she explored private options at the same time

IVF at Melbourne IVF: choosing a donor, genetic carrier testing, and the last-minute transfer of funds before getting on a plane to Scotland

Nineteen eggs, six embryos, an OHSS risk, and a frozen transfer just before the Christmas clinic shutdown

Managing IVF secretly as a teacher — early morning appointments, removing clinic letterheads from medical certificates, and keeping a tight circle of support

The embryo transfer day — emotionally the hardest part of the journey, and the Facebook community moment that changed everything

A straightforward pregnancy, no complications beyond pelvic pain, and morning sickness managed with medication

Working to 37.5 weeks pregnant, tram duty in the rain on her last Friday, and Aric arriving the next day

Choosing a doula as a solo mum — why it was a deliberate, empowering choice, and how it shaped her birth

A water birth with minimal intervention, just happy gas, and what she describes as one of the most magical things she's ever done

Negotiating maternity leave in an independent school — EBAs, school holiday pay, the conversation she had to have with her principal, and going back to work at five months

A phenomenal community daycare, full time from five months, and navigating the first term back

The Preparing for Solo Motherhood course WhatsApp group — five women, five babies, late-night chats, Sunday check-ins, and a care package sent to a hospital in Sydney

Why she plans to donate her eggs — and the take-a-penny-leave-a-penny philosophy behind itKey Takeaways

The Victorian public fertility waitlist is worth joining even if private is your plan — people drop off ahead of you and circumstances change

If you're a teacher, ask your clinic for first appointments of the day — most fertility clinics accommodate this, and it's worth asking upfront

Tell your employer just enough to get the support you need — but ask about EBAs and maternity leave entitlements early, because independent schools operate differently to government schools

A doula is one of the most practical choices a solo mum can make for birth — she is your advocate, she knows your plan, and she doesn't count toward your support person limit

The course WhatsApp group is not a nice-to-have — it's one of the most important villages you can build before the baby arrives

You don't need a partner to have a rich support network — you need the right community

IVF as a solo mum by choice is empowering, not a last resort. The way we talk about it is different — and that mattersYou owe your fertility clinic no loyalty if it's not the right fit — changing clinics can change everything

Exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia? City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

The Bump Membership is a private WhatsApp community and fortnightly Zoom connection calls for solo mums-to-be across Australia and New Zealand. Join here.

Most of the stories on this podcast start at the beginning. This one starts seven years down the track — and it's one of the most valuable perspectives we have.

Renee made her first appointment at 37, after a colleague finally said the quiet part loud and told her to just do it already. She did two IUI rounds, had a bad experience with her first IVF clinic and walked away, found Dr David Wilkinson at City Fertility, and on her third and final round — a frozen transfer she specifically advocated for against the default fresh option — fell pregnant with Aria. She was 39.

Aria is now seven. She goes to Girl Guides, swimming and karate. She spent time in Bali with the solo mum community and came home telling her teachers about her brothers and sisters. She has decided she can't find Renee a husband because all the good ones are already married. She recently concluded she'd like to learn how to be on her own first before finding a partner — and she's seven.

This is a conversation about what the long view really looks like. Not just the birth story and the newborn phase — though Renee shares those too, including a GP who missed her post-caesarean sepsis and a cow's milk protein intolerance that took months to diagnose — but what it means to raise a donor-conceived child who is starting to ask real questions, to build a village from scratch in a new city, and to feel, genuinely, that this life is fuller than anything you could have imagined before it.

The colleague who finally told her to just do it — and how one conversation changed everything

Two IUI rounds and her first IVF clinic — and the moment she realised she owed them nothing and left

Finding Dr David Wilkinson at City Fertility, a fresh perspective, and a one-step-at-a-time approach

Three IVF rounds at 39 — low numbers, a Bali holiday between rounds, and the frozen transfer she asked for over the default fresh

The butterfly effect moment: the embryo she asked to be frozen became Aria

Coming home after a caesarean — and the GP who dismissed her concerns, missed her sepsis, and tried to put her on antidepressants

Cow's milk protein intolerance: months of a screaming baby, a GP who listened, and 48 hours to a different child

Donating her remaining embryo to another solo mum via Facebook — and what that process involved

Aria at seven: the donor questions she's asking, what Renee tells her and what she doesn't, and why she won't build up a donor who may disappoint

The one and done decision — and the clear-eyed logic behind it

The solo mum community: nearly giving up after two bad playground meet-ups, a leap-of-faith camping trip to Phillip Island, and the village she now can't imagine living without

The daughters of solo mums — and why Renee thinks they're going to have a fundamentally different relationship with what they need from a partner

What she'd say to Aria, and what she'd say to anyone sitting on the fence

You owe your fertility clinic no loyalty if it's not the right fit — changing clinics can change everything

Advocate for yourself in IVF decisions — Renee asked for a frozen transfer over the default fresh, and that embryo became Aria

Trust your instincts about your baby's health. If a GP dismisses you, find another one and bring your list

Building your village takes time, a few wrong fits, and one leap of faith — but it is out there

The solo mum community doesn't just support the mums — it creates chosen family for the children too

When your child says they wish they had a dad, ask more questions — it's almost never about the dad

Raise your child to know they are enough on their own before they look for anyone else to complete them

You can donate a remaining embryo to another family — ask your clinic about your options

Exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia? City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

The Bump Membership is a private WhatsApp community and fortnightly Zoom connection calls for solo mums-to-be across Australia and New Zealand. Join here.

Ashleigh's story is one of those ones that will genuinely reassure anyone who is at the very beginning of this journey and quietly terrified about how long it might take.

She was 33 when a friend planted the seed about egg freezing. She went to an initial clinic consultation — more curious than committed — and on the same day, a colleague at work mentioned she'd just had a baby via IVF with a sperm donor. Two seeds in one day. Eight months later, Ashleigh was pregnant.

There were no complications. No failed transfers. No long waitlists. She found a donor quickly, did a fresh IVF cycle alongside her frozen eggs, got six embryos, and fell pregnant on the very first transfer. She still has five embryos in storage.

She's a Queensland primary school teacher who now works three days a week at a school ten minutes from home and daycare. She took Z to Europe for a month at nine months old with her mum. She has connected with donor-conceived siblings — one of whom lives ten minutes away. And when asked what she'd tell someone sitting on the fence, she was in tears before she could even answer.

This is a lovely, warm, uncomplicated episode. Not every story on this podcast is a long or hard one — and that matters. This is proof that sometimes it really does just work.

Spending her 20s and early 30s as a dedicated primary school teacher — and how burnout shifted her thinking about what she actually wanted

A friend's egg freezing journey planting the seed — and a colleague's announcement on the same day as her first clinic appointment

Freezing her eggs at 33 and being pregnant by 34 — eight months from first appointment to positive transfer

Choosing an international donor in Queensland: blue eyes, healthy profile, and deliberately not overthinking it

A fresh IVF cycle alongside her frozen eggs — 15 eggs, 6 embryos, and a positive first transfer

Why she chose IVF over IUI — and the donor consent consideration that drove that decision

A straightforward pregnancy clouded only by constant nausea — teaching primary school while vomiting several times a day

An emergency caesarean and a surprisingly smooth recovery

The newborn phase that was easier than expected — and the 48 hours without sleep in Europe that was not

A month in Europe at nine months — what works, what doesn't, and why nine months is probably the cut-off

Returning to work three days a week at a school ten minutes from home and daycare

Connecting with donor-conceived siblings through the sperm bank's Facebook community — including one family ten minutes away

Five embryos still in storage, the question of a second child, and three flights of stairs

What she'd do differently: building the support network before baby arrives

The journey isn't always long — sometimes it really does move quickly, and it's worth starting sooner than you think

You don't need to overthink donor selection — knowing your non-negotiables and keeping a clear head serves you better than analysis paralysis

Choosing IVF over IUI when you want more than one child has practical advantages — embryos offer more protection than stored sperm alone in some circumstances

Build your support network before baby arrives — not after you're in it and everyone around you already has children

Returning to work part-time in a flexible, local role changes everything about the solo mum juggle

Connecting with donor-conceived siblings is better to do on your own terms before they potentially cross paths organically

Frozen embryos give you the luxury of time when it comes to the second child decision — you don't have to rush

Exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia? City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

The Expecting Solo course helps you navigate early pregnancy on your own terms — from managing symptoms and setting boundaries to finding the joy in your story. Live or on demand, from anywhere in the world. Find out more here.

Nearly half of first-time mums in Australia will have their labour induced. Most of them have no idea what that actually involves until they're in the middle of it.

This episode is here to change that.

I'm joined by Nat — Melbourne midwife, solo mum of three boys, and someone who has had three very different births of her own (including one that ended with her in ICU — more on that in her own episodes, which are linked below, but maybe save those for after you've had your baby). Nat works in a Melbourne tertiary hospital, and she's here in a personal capacity to give you a practical, informed, non-scary breakdown of what an induction actually is — and what you need to think about as a solo mum specifically.

This is not medical advice. For risks, benefits and research, Nat recommends The Great Birth Rebellion podcast — search your specific situation and you'll find the evidence base you need. What this episode gives you is the foundational knowledge to walk into those conversations with your care provider informed, confident, and asking the right questions.

Because here's what Nat — and I — both wish more women knew before they got to this point: there's a significant difference between being offered an induction because it's hospital policy, and being offered one because of your specific medical situation. Knowing which one you're in changes everything about the conversation you should be having.

What an induction actually is — and the difference between induction and augmentation

Why nearly one in three women are induced in Australia, and nearly half of first-time mums

The two types of induction recommendation: hospital policy versus your specific medical situation — and why this distinction matters

The BRAIN acronym — Benefits, Risks, Alternatives, Intuition, Nothing — and how to use it in any appointment

The bishop score — what it is, what it means, and what happens next depending on the result

The gel and pessary — how they work, how long they take, and what to expect

The balloon catheter — what it actually is, how it works, and why you can ask for gas and air

Breaking your waters — what it involves and why it's less dramatic than it sounds by this point

The oxytocin (syntocin) drip — how it works, why it's different from natural labour, and why Nat recommends going in with an open mind about epidurals

CTG monitoring — what the straps are doing, what the numbers mean, and what it means when they adjust the drip

Why an induction can take two to three days — and what that means practically for solo mums with limited support

Birth plans, support people, doulas, private midwives, and student midwives — your real options

How to advocate for yourself if you're being pushed in a direction you're not comfortable with

Birth trauma — what causes it, and how being informed reduces your risk

Postpartum doulas and private midwives — what they can do for you after baby arrives

Setting your home up for a C-section even if you're aiming for a vaginal birth

Ask your care provider: is this induction recommendation based on hospital policy, or on my specific medical situation? The answer should change how you respond

Use the BRAIN acronym in every appointment — Benefits, Risks, Alternatives, Intuition, Nothing

An induction can take two to three days — plan your support accordingly, and don't assume you'll have your baby the same day

If you're a solo mum without a support person, a doula or student midwife can be your advocate in the birth suite — and they don't count toward your support person limit

Research epidurals before you need one — going into an induction without considering it sets you up for a harder experience

Prepare your home for a C-section recovery even if that's not your plan — the solo mum who has meals in the freezer and grab rails in the bathroom will thank herself no matter what happens

Birth trauma comes from not being heard, not from the type of birth — being informed is protective

You can say stop at any point in this process. Even mid-induction. You are not obligated to continue anything without being heard

The Great Birth Rebellion podcast — evidence-based research on all birth scenarios

The Positive Birth Company - bite-sized, scenario-by-scenario birth education

The Complete Guide to Postpartum: A mother-focused companion for life after birth by Sophie Walker's postpartum book — highly recommended for solo mums preparing for the fourth trimester

Nat's episodes on this podcast — Part 1 and Part 2 (save for after baby is here)

Exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia? City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

The Bump Membership is a private WhatsApp community and fortnightly Zoom connection calls for solo mums-to-be across Australia and New Zealand. Join here.

When Maree came on to record, she had just had her very first IUI. She was 35, freshly into treatment, overwhelmed by the scan schedule, quietly terrified, and moving back in with her parents to make it financially possible. We recorded Part 1 that day.

Then we waited.

Part 2 picks up on the other side — after two unsuccessful IUIs, a full IVF cycle with PCOS that produced 29 eggs and four embryos, a frozen transfer that worked on the first attempt, and the arrival of Ellena via a planned maternal-assisted caesarean. Maree pulled her own daughter out. She cut the cord herself.

In between, she navigated a lot. Fibroids that grew significantly during IVF and were monitored throughout pregnancy. An anterior placenta that meant she barely felt Ellena move until 26 weeks. Nausea so constant and all-consuming that she didn't show until very late — the hospital receptionist didn't believe she was there for a caesarean. Tongue tie, silent reflux, and a Tresilian residential stay that changed everything. And a hip dysplasia diagnosis — DDH — that her maternal health nurse picked up at two weeks, and that her paediatrician almost let slip through. Ellena is currently in a Rhino brace. She's also, by all accounts, obsessed with the nine-year-old next door who has decided that Ellena is her cousin and introduces her as such to everyone she meets.

Maree works in disability support, lives with her parents in regional New South Wales, has ankylosing spondylitis managed by immunosuppressant medication, and came to this whole thing alone — no partner, no previous solo mum in her circle, just a childcare worker who remembered a mum she worked with in 2010 who had done it this way, and quietly filed it away.

This episode will resonate deeply for women at the very beginning of this journey. And for the women who are already in it.

Growing up in childcare and knowing motherhood was always the plan — but never meeting anyone

A solo mum of twins at her childcare centre in 2010 planting a seed that never went away

PCOS, fibroids and ankylosing spondylitis — discovering her health picture only after starting fertility investigations

Choosing City Fertility for their transparency, the Adam app, and accessible pricing

Navigating CMV-negative donor requirements and genetic carrier matching — a pool within a pool

The counselling session that changed how she thought about overseas versus local donors

Two IUI cycles — painful, unsuccessful, and the moment she said enough

An IVF cycle just before Christmas: 29 eggs, four embryos, OHSS, and a green whistle egg retrieval she was awake for

A frozen transfer in January — positive on first attempt, testing every day for three weeks regardless

Fibroids monitored throughout pregnancy, anterior placenta, barely feeling movement until 26 weeks

A planned maternal-assisted caesarean — and why having some control back made all the difference

Tongue tie, nerve pain, and the lactation journey that ended in formula — and peace

A Tresilian residential stay she almost refused — and the silent reflux diagnosis that transformed their nights

Hip dysplasia (DDH): picked up at two weeks, nearly dismissed at 16 weeks, confirmed by X-ray at four months

Living with her parents, building a village from scratch, and finding another local solo mum through the SMS Facebook group

Plans for a second child — and why Ellena having a full genetic sibling matters to her

Get your fertility tests done before you think you need them — PCOS and fibroids are often only discovered when you start looking

CMV status affects your donor pool significantly — ask your clinic about this early

The fertility counselling session is not a gate check — it's genuinely useful, particularly around donor sibling connections and overseas vs local donors

A green whistle egg retrieval (awake, no general anaesthetic) is becoming more common — ask your clinic about your options

Maternal-assisted caesarean is an option worth knowing about — you can be the first person to hold your baby, even in theatre

Silent reflux doesn't always present with vomiting — constant feeding, gasping and poor sleep can be the signs

Hip dysplasia (DDH) in newborns: ultrasounds can miss it in wriggly babies. Push for an X-ray referral if you have any concerns

Don't cancel the specialist appointment just because a paediatrician says it's fine — trust your instincts and get the second opinion

Moving home temporarily is a practical, sensible, brave choice

As a No Need for Prince Charming listener, you're eligible for an exclusive 20% discount on fertility services at any City Fertility clinic. Claim your discount here.

The Bump Membership is a private WhatsApp community and fortnightly Zoom connection calls for solo mums-to-be across Australia and New Zealand. Join here.

Trigger warning: This episode discusses perinatal loss, pregnancy after loss, premature birth.

Some stories hold grief and joy in the same hands. Gemma's is one of them.

Gemma is the youngest of three sisters, from one of those enormous, chaotic, deeply close families — her mum one of eleven, Gemma one of twenty-something first cousins, Christmases that required crowd control. Motherhood was never a question. The path to it just looked nothing like she expected.

She started IVF at 40 through City Fertility with Dr David Wilkinson, following a PCOS diagnosis that had been quietly there for years, masked by the pill she'd been on since her teens for her skin. Her first cycle gave her three embryos. Her second transfer was successful. She was pregnant, and everything seemed fine — until the 20-week scan.

Her first little boy, Thomas, had severe intrauterine growth restriction. He was measuring below the first percentile. She knew in her gut from that day that it wasn't going to end the way she hoped. A month of additional scans confirmed it — he was no longer going to survive. That weekend, while Gemma was at the beach with her mum and sister, Thomas quietly let go. She was induced at the Monash that Monday, and he was born on the 10th of March 2023. She named him Thomas — her papa's name.

She talks about all of it. The grief. The immediate instinct to do another egg collection while her eggs were still viable. A third cycle that produced over thirty eggs and no embryos. A fourth cycle that produced one. And then, in March 2024, the transfer of the very last embryo from that very first cycle — the one that had been frozen alongside Thomas — that became Henry.

Henry was born via emergency caesarean at 34 weeks, weighing 1.512 kilograms. He spent 37 days in special care. He came home for Christmas. He is now 15 months old, has just started walking, and recently fell off the climbing equipment at daycare head first.

Gemma says she wouldn't change any of it.

Growing up in a huge close-knit family, always knowing motherhood was part of the plan

A PCOS diagnosis at 38 — and how she'd been masking the symptoms with the pill for years

Negotiating paid parental leave with her employer — and why it's worth having the conversation

IVF at 40 with Dr David Wilkinson: one cycle, three embryos, pregnant on the second transfer

The 20-week scan that changed everything — and trusting her gut when her body told her something was wrong

Losing Thomas to severe IUGR, the weekend at the beach, and delivering him on the 10th of March

Going straight back to Dr Wilkinson — and the third cycle that produced thirty-plus eggs and zero embryos

A fourth cycle, one embryo, and then the transfer that became Henry

The full-circle moment: Henry and Thomas were from the same egg collection, frozen on the same day

The donor who agreed to do a blood test for genetic testing during Thomas's pregnancy — and what that meant to Gemma

Pregnancy after loss: weekly scans, a private obstetrician, a perinatal psychiatrist, and monitoring her blood pressure daily

The emergency caesarean at 34 weeks — and why the decision took about five seconds

37 days in special care, expressing, the decision to move to formula, and six months living with Mum in the country

Henry at 15 months: walking, co-sleeping, an early riser, and absolutely besotted with by everyone who meets him

PCOS is often masked by the pill — if you have symptoms and are thinking about your fertility, ask your GP for an AMH test

It's worth having an honest conversation with your employer about paid parental leave — don't assume what isn't available

Trust your gut during pregnancy. Gemma knew before the scans confirmed it. That instinct matters

Pregnancy after loss requires its own support team — a private OB, a perinatal psychologist or psychiatrist, and regular monitoring are not luxuries

Formula is not failure. It can be the decision that saves your mental health

Moving home temporarily is a practical and wise choice — not a step backwards

Genetic testing after loss can give you important information — and clarity — for future transfers

Did you know City Fertility has their own sperm bank — ADDAM — with no waiting times and a wide selection of donors? Download the Adam app or visit atomdonorbank.com.au to begin your search. And as a No Need for Prince Charming listener, you're eligible for an exclusive 20% discount on fertility services at any City Fertility clinic. Claim your discount here.

The Bump Membership is a private WhatsApp community and fortnightly Zoom connection calls for solo mums-to-be across Australia and New Zealand. Join here.

Trigger warning: This episode discusses premature birth, NICU and neonatal medical procedures.

Missed Part 1? Start with S5:E11 — Luce's IVF journey, multiple losses, and the night her membranes ruptured at 22 weeks.

Gabe was born at 10:35am on a Wednesday morning, weighing 598 grams. He was 30 centimetres long. He came out flat and silent, and a team of eight people swooped in immediately. Luce didn't know he was a boy for five full minutes.

By quarter past twelve, she was in a wheelchair going upstairs to meet him.

What followed was 160 days in hospital — first at Mercy Hospital for Women in Melbourne, then a transfer to the Royal Children's Hospital for specialist ventilation and heart surgery, and then back to Mercy, and finally, finally, home.

Luce is a critical care nurse. She understood the ventilator settings. She could read the infusion charts. She knew what the numbers meant. And she will tell you, plainly, that none of that made it easier. It just changed how she processed the information.

In Part 2, she takes us through all of it — the five brutal first weeks, the patent ductus arteriosus that needed three rounds of Panadol before surgery was the only option left, the jet ventilator that finally stabilised his lungs, the retinopathy checks she couldn't watch, the first skin-to-skin cuddle, the first bath, the first time the whole family came in together. And the day, 160 days after he was born, that she drove him home.

Gabe is now a few months old in corrected age. He came home on oxygen. He is nearly off it. He has big cheeks and tape on his face and Luce is planning his autumn photo shoot.

She calls him her screaming one. You can hear him in the background near the end of the episode.

He made it.

The birth at 24 weeks — what happened in the room, and the five minutes before Luce knew she'd had a boy

Gabe's first hours — intubated, on a ventilator, wrapped in bubble wrap, and brought over to meet his mum

The first five weeks — infection, ventilation challenges, blood transfusions, and constant up and down

Patent ductus arteriosus — what it is, why it mattered, and the bedside heart surgery that changed everything

Transfer to the Royal Children's Hospital for a jet ventilator — and the 2am crisis she'd told them not to call her about unless it was dire

The milestones that matter in NICU — extubation, CPAP, high flow, low flow, open cot, first bath, first clothes

Retinopathy of prematurity — the eye checks Luce couldn't watch, and why early monitoring matters

Pumping, sleep, driving an hour each way, and learning to leave the hospital to protect her own mental health

How she managed mental health through IVF and NICU — including low-dose antidepressants and a counsellor she plans to return to

The Gabe Gazette — how sharing publicly became both a coping mechanism and a gift for him to read one day

Home at 160 days, on overnight oxygen, nearly off it, with a pediatrician and respiratory specialist and the autumn light waiting

"While you're alone — you're not alone."

If you're exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia, City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. nClaim your discount here

The Expecting Solo course helps you navigate early pregnancy on your own terms — from managing symptoms to setting boundaries and finding the joy in your story. Live group sessions or on demand, from anywhere in the world. Find out more here

Having medical knowledge changes how you receive information in a NICU setting — it doesn't make it easier emotionally

Setting boundaries with hospital staff about when to call is okay — and sometimes essential for your mental health

Getting out of the hospital — fresh air, dinners, watching the grand final with your dad — is not abandoning your baby. It's survival

Proactive mental health support through IVF and NICU isn't optional — address it before you're in crisis, not after

The NICU community — other parents, nurses, peer support workers — is one of the most unexpected sources of strength

The Little Miracles Foundation offers peer support specifically for NICU families in Australia

Sharing your journey publicly, on your own terms, can be cathartic and protective — it keeps people informed without you having to repeat yourself

If your friend has a baby in NICU, don't ask what you can do. Just do something — bring food, do laundry, show up

Trigger warning: this episode discusses pregnancy loss and premature birth.

This is a two-part episode. Part 1 ends at the birth. Part 2 — the NICU journey and life now — drops next week.

Some stories you have to tell in two parts. Lucia's is one of them.

Luce is a nurse based in regional Victoria who froze her eggs at 36, made the decision to go solo shortly after, and then spent the next four years navigating one of the most complex IVF journeys I've heard on this podcast. Four egg collections. Multiple transfers. Multiple losses. A late endometriosis diagnosis that may have changed everything. And finally — on the most chaotic, stressful, nothing-going-right transfer day imaginable — the embryo that stuck.

What happened next nobody could have predicted.

Luce got to 22 weeks before noticing spotting one evening. She messaged her midwife friend. She messaged her obstetrician. She drove herself to the appointment the next morning, convinced it was nothing. And within hours she was in an ambulance, lights and sirens, being transferred to a tertiary hospital in Melbourne — four centimetres dilated, membranes visible, 22 weeks pregnant with the baby she had spent four years trying to have.

What follows — the week-by-week countdown in hospital, the handouts for each gestational age, the conversation about resuscitation at 22 weeks that no one should have to have alone — is one of the most honest, clear-eyed accounts of premature birth I've heard from a solo mum.

Luce is a nurse. She asked for the facts. She made the hardest decisions she could with the information she had. And she shares every part of it here, without flinching.

Growing up in regional Victoria, training as a nurse and paramedic, and spending her 30s building a career while her friends got married

Freezing her eggs at 36 after watching friends navigate fertility challenges — and giving a relationship a deadline

Making the decision to go solo, finding City Fertility, and choosing a donor

Her first transfer — a positive, a heartbeat, and then a missed miscarriage at nine and a half weeks

Three subsequent transfers, multiple early losses, and the decision to do a second egg collection

Changing specialist to Dr David Wilkinson and trying new protocols — including PRP treatment

A third and fourth egg collection, endo discovered via laparoscopy, and her best-ever collection of 47 eggs at 40

Nine embryos, three normal on PGT-A testing — and all three failing to implant

The chaotic final transfer — stuck in traffic, blood pressure through the roof — and the embryo that finally stuck

Getting to 22 weeks, spotting, and the morning that changed everything

Ambulance transfer to Melbourne, four centimetres dilated, and the conversation about resuscitation at 22 weeks

Counting the hours each week in hospital — and what it means to get to the next handout

Next week: Part 2 — the NICU journey and life now.

City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

The Bump Membership is a private WhatsApp community and fortnightly Zoom connection calls for solo mums-to-be across Australia and New Zealand. Join here.

IVF timelines are unpredictable — building an emotional support system separate from your fertility clinic is not optional, it's essential

Endometriosis is vastly underdiagnosed; if you have painful or heavy periods and are struggling with implantation, it's worth asking your specialist about a laparoscopy

PGT-A tested embryos do not guarantee success — the science is still evolving and unexplained implantation failure is real

Having a medical background doesn't protect you from the emotional weight of this journey — it just changes how you process information

Knowing your why before you need to make hard decisions matters. Luce had thought through her values long before she needed them.

A private obstetrician for a high-anxiety pregnancy is not a luxury — it's mental health support as much as medical care

Why Making the Decision is the Hardest Part — with Carrie Meckler

This is a different kind of episode.

No birth story. No IVF timeline. No newborn update. Just a conversation about the stage that doesn't get talked about nearly enough — the one before any of that happens.

Carrie Meckler is a licensed therapist based in North Carolina who is also a solo mum by choice to a beautiful two-year-old boy. She runs a six-week group program specifically for women in the considering stage, and she joins me this week to talk about what she sees in her clients — and what she went through herself — when women are first sitting with the idea that this might be their path.

Because here's the thing: making this decision is genuinely the hardest part of the entire solo motherhood journey. Harder than the fertility treatment. Harder than the newborn phase. And almost nobody talks about that.

We cover a lot of ground in this conversation — the grief that comes with letting go of the life you always thought you'd have, the fear of judgment, the pressure of the biological clock, the question of how long to keep waiting, and what it actually looks like to start taking steps forward without having it all figured out.

We also talk about something I think about a lot: why so many women base their assumptions about solo motherhood on single-parent households that came about through very different circumstances. And why finding women who are already living this life intentionally is one of the most important things you can do when you're in the considering stage.

This one is for the woman who's been sitting quietly with an idea she hasn't told anyone about yet.

In this episode:

Key Takeaways

🏥 This episode is brought to you by City Fertility

Exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia? City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

💛 Still in the considering stage?

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Michelle always knew she wanted to be a mum. What she didn't know was that the path to getting there would involve a two and a half year wait just to choose a donor.

She made her first appointment at Fertility Associates in New Zealand in 2014 at the age of 34, was told there were five donor profiles to choose from, and was promptly put on a waitlist. She spent the next two and a half years living in parallel — open to meeting someone, but keeping her eye firmly on this path. When the call finally came in 2016, she sat down with her five profiles, eliminated three for minor medical reasons and two for wanting more contact than she was comfortable with, and chose the tallest one. Vayda-Rae was born after four IUI cycles — a chemical pregnancy, a negative, an overstimulated cancelled cycle, and then a successful fourth round at 37 — partly funded by her parents.

She's now nearly nine, and this episode is something we don't have enough of on this podcast: a genuinely long view. What does solo motherhood actually look like at year eight? What are the conversations you're still having? What gets easier and what catches you off guard?

Michelle is warm, funny, and completely honest — including about the moments that were harder than she expected. Vayda-Rae going through a phase of calling her best friend's husband "dad." The Father's Day questionnaire at school. Being the only family that looks like theirs in a small New Zealand town. The very different thing it is to raise a donor-conceived child when there are no other families like yours within reach.

But she also talks about the things nobody tells you going in. The unusually close relationship you build when it's just the two of you. A daughter who is emotionally mature beyond her years. The adventures they've had together. The lotto win that changed things. And the letter she wrote to Vayda-Rae's donor-conceived siblings — still waiting on a reply, but trying anyway.

This is a story for anyone at the very beginning, wondering if it's worth it. Michelle's answer is unambiguous.

Making the decision at 34 and facing a two and a half year donor waitlist in New Zealand

How the counselling at Fertility Associates NZ walked her through how a donor-conceived child might relate to their story at different ages — a framework Michelle found genuinely useful

Choosing between five donor profiles and the logic (and laughs) behind the decision

Four IUI cycles at 37 including a chemical pregnancy, a cancelled cycle and a successful fourth round

Gestational diabetes and an emergency caesarean

The newborn days — and why having no partner to disappoint made it simpler than she expected

Raising Vayda-Rae in a small New Zealand town as the only solo mum family around

The Father's Day questionnaire, the school trip questions, and navigating a daughter who sometimes just wants to be the same as everyone else

How she's approached the donor-conceived sibling conversation — including the letter she sent

Deciding to be one and done — and the donor consent timeline that influenced that decision

What she wishes she'd worried less about — and what she'd say to anyone sitting on the fence right now

If you're exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia, City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

The Considering Solo Motherhood course was made for exactly where you are. Explore donor options, fertility timelines and the emotional side of the decision — live or on demand, from anywhere in the world. Learn more here.

A long waitlist doesn't mean stop living — keep going in parallel and let the path unfold

Good fertility counselling should prepare you for your child's questions at every age, not just the medical process

Being the only family of your kind in a small community is a real challenge — connection with other solo mum families matters more as children get older

The two-person household actually simplifies the newborn period in ways that surprise most women

Trying to reach donor-conceived siblings is worth doing early, even if the response takes time

The decision to have a second child involves more than just wanting one — finances, support networks and donor consent timelines all factor in

The fears about judgment are almost always bigger than the reality