Climbing into the front passenger seat of my mum Margaret’s car, my heart felt heavy and I gulped back tears.
‘What if I never get to be a mum?’ I asked as she pulled out of the doctor’s car park.
It was 1988, and I was only 16, but my periods were irregular, heavy.
Often left me doubled over in pain or curled up in bed with a hot water bottle pressed to my tummy.
Worried, Mum, then 43, had taken me to the doc, who’d just diagnosed me with polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS).
My ovaries were enlarged, containing fluid filled sacs, and didn’t regularly release eggs.
‘You might never have children naturally,’ he’d warned.
