OUR LITTLE MIRACLE

Helena Purcell, 42, and her husband longed for a sibling for their son

- MISHAAL KHAN

Diving into the swimming pool, I felt the water envelop me as reality sunk in and I wondered how much more I could take. It was July 2020 and an hour earlier, I’d taken yet another pregnancy test. For the umpteenth time, it was negative.

My husband Ian, then 45, and I had been trying for a sibling for our son Luca, two. With low egg reserves, it had taken three years and endless hormone tablets and injections to have Luca, and now, we’d spent more than £30,000 and taken out a second mortgage in a bid for a second child. But seven rounds of IVF later and still no joy.

FEAR LOOMED

We’d attempted the latest round at a clinic in London before taking a break in Weston-super-Mare, where we now were, but I was an exhausted wreck of hormones and on the verge of giving up. ‘I can’t put myself through any more,’ I told Ian. ‘We’ll get through it together,’ he reassured. Although the doctor had warned me not to go swimming so soon after treatment, I’d needed to clear my head.

Back at home a week later, there was still no sign of my period, and blood tests at a fertility clinic confirmed I was in fact pregnant. I was thrilled, but fear loomed. I’d miscarried at 12 weeks after our second round of IVF, and it had been devastating.

I gritted my teeth through the nausea and exhaustion, and when we passed 12 weeks, I relaxed a little.