No need for Prince Charming

The Plan Always Had a Next Step Claire always knew she'd be a mum. She told her mum at 18 that if she didn't find someone, she'd do it on her own. Her mum said she wouldn't need to. Claire filed that away and thought: well, if I do, I'm fine with it. At 30 she decided she was financially ready, had ticked off enough of her travel list, and started. She didn't make a big announcement. When she eventually told people, nobody was surprised. What followed was not the quick journey she'd hoped for. A pre-existing endometriosis diagnosis from 19 sent her straight to IVF with her doctor at Monash IVF Bondi Junction — no IUI, no mucking around. But what nobody had picked up was that Claire had a thin endometrial lining — a four or five, when the transfer window needs a seven to ten. Medicated cycles were cancelled last minute. PRP (platelet-rich plasma) treatment was tried repeatedly. There was no clear reason why. The Mirena she'd had in was the best guess. The first IVF cycle itself went beautifully — 12 eggs, 12 fertilised, five AA-grade embryos. And then none of them worked. She went through all five. Two of the transfers resulted in early losses at five weeks. She didn't know yet that she'd got COVID during her injections cycle. She still wonders. Second cycle. New protocol. PGTA testing this time. Four embryos. And then — right as she was preparing for her next transfer — she was caught in the NSW donor audit. Her overseas donor had been over-allocated to NSW beyond the state's family limit. The clinic emailed: we don't know if you'll be able to use this donor anymore. Possibly ever. She had just had a miscarriage. She had no next step for the first time in the entire journey. It was, she says, almost as hard as the losses. A solo mum she'd never met found everyone affected, organised them, told them who to email and what to say, and kept going until the clinic made an exemption. Claire had two vials of sperm left and was permitted to continue. On the 22nd of October, she transferred. Augie arrived nine months later. He is nine weeks old, already looks entirely like his donor, and has Claire's blood type — and that, apparently, is it. At 36 weeks Claire moved from Sydney to Orange to live with her parents for the year — her mum is a midwife, lactation consultant, and child and family health nurse, which turned out to matter enormously in the first weeks of breastfeeding. She'll move into her own place in January, set up a home daycare, and take Augie to Bali in between. She's the first to say she's more capable than she thought she'd be. In this episode: Always knowing she'd be a mum — telling her mother at 18 that she'd do it alone if she had to Deciding at 30: financially ready, travel list ticked, let's go Endometriosis diagnosed at 19 — going straight to IVF, no IUI Discovering a thin endometrial lining — cancelled cycles, PRP treatment, no clear cause 12 eggs, 12 fertilised, five AA-grade embryos — and all five failing to implant or take Two early losses at five weeks — processing grief by going within, and the friends who knew when to leave Getting COVID during her injections cycle — and wondering if that changed something The donor audit: what it was, the email she received mid-miscarriage, and the solo mum who got the exemptions overturned Second round with new protocol and PGTA testing — four embryos, including a fresh transfer A positive on the first transfer of the second round — October 22nd — and still not quite believing it throughout the whole pregnancy Bleeds until 14 weeks and demanding scans every time, just to check Finishing work at 36 weeks and moving from Sydney to Orange at 37 weeks pregnant Living with her parents — what's worked, what's been harder than expected Her mum the midwife/lactation consultant being the best possible person to have there for breastfeeding Going to the first-time mums group in Orange and being the only solo mum — and the moment they asked

The wake up call Brooke spent most of her 30s in a relationship with a man who already had a child and didn't want more. She told herself she was okay with that. She spent 10 years telling herself that. And somewhere in those 10 years, quietly, she started filling out IVF paperwork in the background. She never did anything with it. COVID arrived. She went back to it in 2021. She saw a counsellor, got on the donor waitlist at Melbourne IVF, found the Facebook sperm donation groups deeply uncomfortable, met a recruited donor and drove home knowing that wasn't right either. And then her brother had a brain aneurysm. He survived. But she was 42, and she looked at him and thought: I have one shot at life, and I am going to regret this forever if I don't try. She was 43 when she finally had her egg collection — 11 eggs retrieved, 7 viable embryos — numbers that will give every woman in her 40s something to hold onto. She did not take any special vitamins. She was, in her own words, very much "if it's meant to be." Three transfers. The first didn't work. The second — which she didn't tell anyone she was doing — didn't work either. A reading over Christmas that gave her hope, then didn't. A D&C to prepare the lining, and then a fourth transfer she barely planned for, fitted in between a work secondment in regional Victoria and a visit back to Melbourne. She didn't tell anyone she was doing that one either. It worked. Mia was born in November, 10 days after Brooke's 44th birthday. During the pregnancy, Brooke found out her dad had stage 4 lung cancer. He made it to meet Mia. He got to see her smile. He passed away when Mia was four months old. Brooke has a photo of the two of them smiling at each other. In the months after Mia arrived, Brooke experienced postnatal depression — triggered by a sleep school programme that went against every instinct she had. She recognised it quickly, got onto a helpline that night, and got help fast. She talks about it openly because she wants other women to know it doesn't mean you're a bad mum, and it doesn't mean you made the wrong decision. Mia is almost two. Her name means "mine" in Italian — chosen because Brooke's nonna is Italian, and the donor's family is too. She co-sleeps most nights, wakes three or four times, and is a very determined, very independent little girl who drags a vintage Cabbage Patch doll around the house. There are three embryos still in the freezer. Brooke is thinking about them every day. In this episode: A decade-long relationship with someone who didn't want more children — and what that quietly cost her A gynaecologist who told her she was "too old" to freeze her eggs at 36 — and why she should have found a different doctor sooner Starting IVF paperwork in the background of a relationship that was still ongoing COVID hitting just as she got serious about it — and restarting in 2021 The Facebook sperm donation groups: why they felt wrong, and what meeting a recruited donor in regional Victoria taught her Getting on the donor waitlist at Melbourne IVF, the three-month access windows, and finding her donor with 24 hours left on her final access Her friend who told her to just hit the button — and the glass of wine that finally made her do it Her brother's brain aneurysm at 42 as the moment she stopped waiting Starting IVF at 43 with Dr Weng Chan — 11 eggs, 7 embryos, remarkable results without any special vitamins or protocols Three failed transfers, a chemical pregnancy she discovered on Christmas morning, and why she told no one about transfers two, three, or four A D&C to refresh the lining, and a fourth transfer she almost did on a whim during a work trip Making peace with not getting pregnant — and what that peace did for her body Getting pregnant on the fourth transfer and finding out at her mum's house ("Have you got COVID?") A complication-free pregnancy — and finding out her dad had stage 4 lung cancer in the middle of

From the Very First Try to Six Months In Some women come to this decision with a clear plan. Alex came with a deadline: if I'm still single at 30, I'm doing it on my own. She hit 30. She went to Bali to celebrate. She came home and got her AMH checked. It was on the lower end of normal. That was enough. What followed was three years, a recruited known donor in Victoria, two early miscarriages, a laparoscopy that found stage two endometriosis she never knew she had, multiple egg retrievals across a bulk bill IVF clinic in Queensland and then their full service program, unexplained implantation failure, a double embryo transfer that finally worked, and a pregnancy spent anxious and cautiously hopeful. All while working full time in a state manager role in child protection — and parenting a 16-year-old foster daughter who has lived with her for the past three years. Ollie was born on the 23rd of January via planned caesarean — except the plan didn't go to plan. Nineteen attempts between the cannula and the spinal tap, a previous spinal surgery that made anaesthesia almost impossible, a general anaesthetic she didn't want, and a best friend waiting outside the theatre. He was out and detached from the anaesthetic in under four minutes. He had some trouble breathing, went briefly to special care, and eventually came up to Alex's room that night. He is now six and a half months old. He has a cow's milk protein allergy requiring prescription formula. He has been to Canberra, Bali and Darwin and is heading to Europe next month. He sleeps through the night. He gets his morning cuddle from his big sister before he's even properly awake. And Alex calls him a unicorn. This is a two-part episode — Part 1 covers the journey to 25 weeks pregnant, Part 2 picks up from birth to now. In this episode: Working in child protection and becoming respite carer to two children at 21 Her 16-year-old foster daughter who now lives with her full-time — and the younger one who comes every fortnight Deciding at 30 to stop waiting — AMH results, initial fertility investigations, and the decision to try a recruited known donor first Finding her donor on Facebook: the legal agreement, the counselling, the interstate coordination, and why doing it properly mattered Getting pregnant on the first try — and an early miscarriage Nearly 12 months of home insemination with two early losses, a referral to an early miscarriage specialist, insulin levels treated at a lower threshold, and metformin Moving to a bulk bill IVF clinic in Queensland — out-of-town scans in Adelaide, flying up for retrievals and transfers, three bulk bill cycles Stage two endometriosis found during a laparoscopy — no symptoms, no history, discovered during an egg retrieval Moving to the full service program: 16 eggs, six or seven embryos, and still unexplained implantation failure Genetic testing the embryos — half weren't chromosomally normal, three tested normal A double embryo transfer (one tested, one C-grade untested) — one took. She'll never know which. Early pregnancy with anxiety, a suspected ectopic, a bleed at 5 weeks, a night in hospital A gender reveal, a boy, and a dad who is very excited about his first grandson Ollie arriving at 38 weeks via general anaesthetic — 14 cannula attempts, 9 spinal tap attempts, and a best friend waiting outside Ollie in special care, feeding journey, and the lactation consultant who gave Alex permission to formula feed Cow's milk protein allergy, prescription formula, and why Alex now advises every pregnant woman to bring a tin to hospital just in case Circadian rhythm sorted by two weeks, sleeping through the night by six weeks, napping properly from three months Bali at four months — what worked, what didn't, and the five-dollar porter who changed everything A 16-year-old who gets Ollie up every morning, takes the backseat in the car, and saves her wages to buy him presents Keeping one-on-one time

Four and a Half Years Later — Alisha's Update A note: this episode mentions the loss of Alisha's son Jeremy, who was stillborn 12 years ago today. She shares it with gratitude and without distress — but as always on this podcast, take care of yourself first. When I recorded my first ever episode of No Need for Prince Charming, Lexi was almost two. She is now six and a half. A lot has changed. I've been meaning to do this update for a while, and today felt like the right day — because it's the 12th anniversary of losing my son Jeremy, and I'm launching something I've been building towards for a very long time. More on that below. But first, let me catch you up. In early 2022, I was working full time in corporate loyalty, Lexi was in full-time daycare, Melbourne was still in lockdown, and I was running the podcast from stolen hours after she went to bed. I knew something was brewing — I just didn't know yet what it was going to be. What followed was four and a half years I would not trade for anything. Quitting a job I loved that had become somewhere I hated. Nearly four years sober. An ADHD diagnosis that explained a lot. Writing My Perfect Family. Building courses. Three Bali trips. A book club. A Facebook group that's now 3,500 members. The Bump Membership, which is still the thing I'm most proud of. Speaking at the Sydney Opera House. Sitting on the ART review committee. A second podcast. And learning, in a book club of all places, that one of my friends used the same donor as me — and that Lexi has a little sister. Today, on Jeremy's anniversary, I'm launching the SMS Membership. It's for established solo mums by choice — women who have their child, who are in the thick of it, who want more than a Facebook group can offer. A real community. Real faces. Monthly expert sessions on things we actually need to talk about — mortgages, perimenopause, body safety, employment rights, identity after motherhood. Plus fortnightly Zoom connection calls, state-based groups for real-life playdates, and specialist chats for neurosparkly mums, double donor families, mums without their own mum, and more. I also want to say this: I wasn't 100% sure when I did this. I wasn't even 50% sure. But I didn't want to look back and regret not trying. And it worked on the second round of IVF, and Alexandra is the absolute best thing that has ever happened to me, and I am so, so glad. If you're on the fence — listen to this episode. And then take the next step. In this episode: Going back to work in 2022 — full-time corporate, lockdowns, my mum in hospital the week I returned, survival mode Starting the podcast and feeling something brewing underneath all of it Writing My Perfect Family and why I wanted to normalise the language of donor conception for other families' children, not just ours Fiji with Rhiannon — and realising I almost certainly have ADHD A bullying boss, a toxic work environment, and the day I resigned with my bonus and Lexi in tow Solo Mum Society was born, and so was the realisation that books don't pay your mortgage Going sober almost four years ago — and why having Lexi finally gave me a reason big enough to make it stick The ADHD diagnosis and medication in 2024 — and how running your own business with ADHD without corporate deadlines is a very specific kind of chaos The first Bali trip: 24 women, total strangers, everything in common The Facebook group growing to 3,500 members — and why I started it when the existing group didn't match the energy of the solo mums I knew The Considering, Expecting and Preparing courses — why I made them, what they cover, and what it feels like to watch nervous women become excited ones The Disney cruise — Cinderella holding our daughters' hands, and every dream I had coming true The book club conversation that revealed Lexi's donor-conceived sibling — before the baby was even born Lexi starting school: Father's Day, a classmate who said she was lying about no

She never gave up! Some journeys are long. Kate's is one of the longest we've shared on this podcast — and one of the most quietly remarkable. Kate came to solo motherhood later than she planned, and for reasons that had nothing to do with not wanting a child. For much of her 30s she was managing Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, a chronic pain condition so severe she was on strong medication whose effects on a foetus were not yet known. She finished three masters degrees, achieved a third-degree black belt in karate, and built a career — all while navigating a condition she would not wish on anyone. By her late 30s, the pain was behind her. The medication was gone. And the relationship she'd thought might lead somewhere hadn't. So she made the decision that had always been there, waiting. What followed was three rounds of IUI, a move from Melbourne to Tasmania, a job change, eight or more IVF cycles across two clinics, multiple egg retrievals, a chemical pregnancy, and a miscarriage. Years of driving to Hobart and turning back halfway because the embryo hadn't developed. Years of two-week waits that ended badly. Years of holding it all quietly — telling almost no one — because that is how Kate processes things, and because she has Asperger's, and because the fear of what people think runs deep when you've spent your whole life reading the room slightly differently to everyone else. And then in December, a natural FET. Timed around Christmas. A feeling on the way home that she hadn't had before — this one has stuck. She was right. Amelia is 22 months old, about to turn two. She lives with Kate and Kate's parents in northern Tasmania, is looked after full time by her grandparents while Kate works, hates being swaddled, kicks her blankets off, loves doctors' waiting rooms, and is going to Japan in a couple of months. Kate wouldn't swap a single thing. In this episode: Three masters degrees, a third-degree black belt, and a decade managing Complex Regional Pain Syndrome — and how that shaped Kate's decision-making Being on the autism spectrum (Asperger's): how it affected relationships, the decision to pursue solo motherhood, and the parenting experience that followed Deciding to go straight to IUI rather than freeze eggs — and learning the hard way that the IUI donor pool in Victoria was extremely limited Three rounds of IUI: a chemical pregnancy in quarantine, a negative, and a third failure before moving to IVF Transferring to the Tasmanian clinic — a smaller, more personal experience, and a specialist who never stopped looking for solutions Eight or more IVF cycles across multiple years — multiple egg retrievals, fresh and frozen transfers, the physical and emotional toll, and driving halfway to Hobart only to be called back because the embryo hadn't developed The pre-Medicare-change reality for solo mums: needing to fail IUI multiple times before qualifying for IVF rebates A miscarriage and a chemical pregnancy before the natural FET that finally worked Keeping almost everything secret — and what happened when she finally told people A pregnancy she couldn't enjoy, spent waiting for something to go wrong Amelia arriving a day early in a Tasmanian storm — and spending the first week in hospital with no power at home Coming home to mum and a two-year-old who refused to be swaddled Going back to work at four and a half months — a nine-day fortnight, four days from home Her parents as full-time carers: what it's given Amelia, what it's given them What she'd do differently — and what she'd tell anyone on the spectrum who's been waiting for the right time Key Takeaways A health condition is not a reason to stop — it may be a reason to plan more carefully, get better advice earlier, and advocate for yourself at every step Being on the spectrum doesn't mean you can't read your child — you will find your own way of knowing, and it will be enough The fear of what other people will think