Stories
06-07-2026
In this story, Wendy and Rob talk about their long road to fulfilling a wish to have a child that turned out not to be a given. A journey of tests, doubts, choices and unexpected twists, but also of moments of hope and strength. An open and honest look at their journey.
Our story begins in January 2011, when Rob and I met. We were 25, and one evening he came round and actually never left. Within a week we were living together and it all felt so natural: the humour, the way we saw things, our outlook on life. We soon started talking about children. Not straight away, because we had only just met.
Eventually those conversations became more and more serious, and we decided I would stop taking the pill. I think we were 31 or 32 by then. By that time we were living in a family home, a corner house, and without consciously thinking about it, there was even a family car parked outside. Everything seemed ready for the next step.
But after about a year there was still no sign of a pregnancy; my period had not been late even once. Every month it arrived exactly on the day, always just as punctual, without exception. At the same time our doubts grew, and Rob and I decided to go to the GP. He told us it could take a little longer for the hormones from the pill to leave my body completely, so we were advised to keep trying for another six months.
When those six months had also passed without any change, the GP referred us to the hospital. There we were once again told to keep trying on our own for another six months. It wasn’t a surprise, but it was disappointing when that period also passed without result. Every month the days when it needed to happen were highlighted in the diary, but however much hope we put into it, still nothing happened.
After that we went back and the first tests began. Rob was tested first. We had agreed beforehand that no one would be to blame, that we wouldn’t look at each other accusingly if the cause lay with one of us. We also agreed that if the problem lay with Rob, we would stop the treatment process. We really wanted a child of our own together, and if that turned out not to be possible, that was the point at which we would stop. To some people that may sound a bit blunt, but that is genuinely how we felt. Besides, we had a nephew, later even two, and we talked about having sleepovers, days out and making lovely memories with them.
Our life as a twosome was lovely and complete. We didn’t miss anything; we travelled, saw the world and did fun things. A child would be an enrichment, the icing on the cake, but not something we needed in order to be happy. It would be an addition, not something to fill a gap.
The test showed that there was nothing wrong with Rob, so the search for a cause continued with me. I had a full set of tests, including an HSG (hysterosalpingography), but nothing came out of it. ‘Unexplained infertility’ is what it says in my medical records.
Incidentally, the process at the hospital often felt like a struggle. We didn’t always feel heard or seen; everything was rather businesslike and distant. Covid made personal contact even harder, which left us feeling that we weren’t quite in the right place.
By then we were 34 or 35, and a colleague told me she was having treatment at Nij Clinics Elsendorp. Given my age, we decided to book an intake there and press on. Just two weeks later we were able to come in. With a scan and an ovulation test, they could see exactly where I was in my cycle, after which we discussed a plan of action together.
With hormone stimulation they tried to get me to produce more follicles, which was meant to increase the chance of fertilisation after insemination. Still, there were no results. After around six or seven IUI rounds we still weren’t expecting. Every month my period arrived precisely on time, without a single deviation, and often left no room for hope.
We didn’t follow the treatment every single month as standard. We took quite a relaxed approach, and if the treatment fell in the middle of our holiday, then so be it and we skipped that month. The staff at Nij Clinics Elsendorp were completely understanding about this; they adapted to our pace, and that personal approach was a breath of fresh air.
After seven unsuccessful IUI attempts we talked to Dr Wissmann. He knew I had doubts about IVF, but still wanted to discuss it with us, because he thought IUI wasn’t enough in our case. IVF had always felt like a last resort to me; I was hoping for a natural pregnancy and had therefore never seriously considered it.
During the consultation he clearly explained what IVF involves, what it could mean for us and what we could expect. After such a long journey, the step felt logical, and together Rob and I decided to go for it.
I was given a higher hormone dose and the egg retrieval was scheduled. Twelve follicles were harvested, nine of which could be fertilised. We opted for a split of 50 per cent IVF and 50 per cent ICSI. A few days later we heard that there were six frozen embryos left for transfer.
We soon made an appointment for the first transfer. Afterwards I felt strange, maybe even pregnant, because now an embryo had really been transferred. We had never got that far on our own, or with IUI.
About two weeks later I was allowed to test. Within a few seconds two lines appeared. In disbelief we called my parents and everyone was in tears. It was a wonderful moment. We called it Joop.
A few weeks later we went to Nij Clinics Elsendorp for an early scan. Joop’s little heart was beating at 6 weeks and 6 days, but he wasn’t in the right place. A second doctor confirmed that Joop had implanted in my fallopian tube. We were sent straight to the hospital, where another scan followed. Joop was doing perfectly, but was in the wrong place.
We were completely devastated. I had to have surgery that same day. There was no time to recover or to take in that we were finally pregnant. Before I knew it I was in the operating theatre, and the tears only came when I was lying there alone.
After the operation they told us that Joop and my fallopian tube had been removed. In five hours we went from hope to emptiness. At home, grief and anger took over. Joop was perfect and we wanted nothing more than to keep him, but nature decided otherwise. I was disappointed in my body. Everyone had tried so hard, but my body couldn’t carry him.
Rob and I talked a lot, with each other and with family and friends, and that helped enormously in coming to terms with it. Even so, I didn’t dare to try again straight away. Physically I recovered quickly – fortunately the operation was only minor – but mentally it took a long time before I found a little of that trust again.
It was only a year later that we came back for a second transfer. This time, too, I had a positive pregnancy test after two weeks. We were happy, but now also cautious, because a positive test doesn’t automatically mean you’ll become a mum and dad.
At the 7-week scan we again saw a beating heart. We called this one Sjors, and Sjors was in the right place and doing brilliantly.
After that we were discharged from Nij Clinics Elsendorp. That felt strange, because you go there for years, sometimes several times a month, and suddenly it’s over. We were able to register with a midwifery practice nearby and no longer needed to be monitored by the clinic.
I found it hard to enjoy my pregnancy; the disappointment and uncertainty about my body were still there. Yet everything went smoothly. Every check-up was good, the blood results were fine, the NIPT was negative, and each time I was reassured that this time everything really was all right.
We made a homemade Christmas card with Sjors’s scan for family and friends and delivered it in person. We had never shared so many tears of joy.
After nine long, beautiful months, Rob and I became parents. Our son was born in July 2024 and is called Mosi, African for ‘firstborn’. It was special, bizarre, beautiful, surreal and, above all, we felt so grateful. And all thanks to the expert and caring support of Nij Clinics Elsendorp.
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