Seven years ago, I saw an advert online for a fertility check. It was undoubtedly targeted at my demographic — women in their late twenties to early thirties. “Get checked before it’s too late” was the tone of the message. I wasn’t sure if I wanted children, but I wanted to know if that decision was even mine to make.
I knew something wasn’t quite right with my body. The friends around me had cycles as predictable as the moon’s, but my own have always been more like a stray cat visiting your garden on a whim. I’d go months without a period and then out of the blue I’d bleed for two weeks. I went through pregnancy tests like others went through tampons, always “late” for a schedule that didn’t exist.
