No need for Prince Charming

She does both, and solo is easier.
Merryn grew up thinking life would look a certain way. Her parents together, her aunties and uncles together, everyone partnered, everyone staying. She figured the same would happen for her. She spent her 20s travelling Europe, living in Perth, playing football, nursing, having classic terrible dating stories. She moved back to Victoria at 30, booked a fertility check just to see where things stood, and met someone through a friend from work.

She thought she’d finally got it right.

Two weeks after her son Sully was born, her best friend took her for a walk and told her she’d been contacted by the ex. It turned out Merryn’s partner had been regularly visiting his ex-girlfriend during night shifts and coming home to her while she was pregnant. She kicked him out. She tried to make it work for Sully’s sake. She eventually couldn’t.

By the time Sully was 18 months, Merryn had gone back to the fertility clinic. She did two IUIs that didn’t work, then IVF — 22 eggs at 36 and a half, eight embryos. First frozen transfer. Positive.

What followed was a pregnancy that started beautifully and got complicated — placenta previa diagnosed at 20 weeks, a bleed at 25 weeks, waters breaking at 33 weeks, and then at 36 weeks an emergency caesarean under general anaesthetic for a placental abruption. Sinclair came out at 2.4 kilograms. Merryn’s best friend was in the waiting room because they couldn’t have a support person under general anaesthetic. Sinclair spent three days in NICU, Merryn got a hotel near the hospital so she could feed him every four hours, and they went home.

He is now 19 months old, platinum blonde, cheeky, a watcher, doesn’t talk much but is doing things the whole time. The Dennis the Menace of the family.

Merryn is now 20 weeks pregnant with a girl — same donor, same clinic, first transfer again. Sully is six and has strong opinions about gender reveals. Sinclair has no idea what’s coming and is currently learning not to hit babies.

And two months ago, Merryn moved into a duplex she built next door to another solo mum. Shared backyard, no fence, kids running free, baby monitor working across the wall, dropping each other’s kids at school, nipping to the shops while the other one watches them. Six weeks in and she says it’s already a game changer.

She also does both — co-parenting Sully with his dad, and raising Sinclair and her daughter on her own. And she says, unprompted and clearly: solo is easier.

In this episode:

Travelling, nursing, Perth, football — and a decade of dating that never led anywhere serious

Getting a fertility check at 31 out of curiosity — not yet ready to go solo

Meeting someone through a colleague, getting accidentally pregnant with Sully at 32, and thinking she’d finally got her life plan back on track

Finding out two weeks postpartum that her partner had been sleeping with his ex throughout the pregnancy

Staying civil for Sully’s sake and the strength that took — then finding her feet as a solo mum

Going back to the clinic when Sully was 18 months old: two failed IUIs, then IVF at 36 with Dr David Wilkinson at City Fertility

22 eggs, 8 embryos, a first frozen transfer that worked

Placenta previa at 20 weeks, a bleed at 25 weeks, waters breaking at 33 weeks and then an emergency caesarean with general anaesthetic at 36+4

Her best friend waiting outside the theatre — and getting Sinclair’s first cuddle because Merryn couldn’t

Three days in NICU, a hotel near the hospital, and coming home

Sinclair at 19 months: platinum blonde, a watcher, the Dennis the Menace stage

Telling Sully about donor conception — “you’ve got a dad, this one’s got a donor” — and him accepting it completely because his best friend’s family looks similar

Going back for number three — same donor, same clinic, first transfer, 20 weeks pregnant with a girl

What it’s actually like to do both — co-parenting Sully and solo-parenting the younger two

Building a duplex next to another solo mum and what six weeks in actually looks like

Shift work as a solo mum — getting government approval for in-home care overnight\

What she’d say to any woman who has a child from a previous relationship and wants more

Key Takeaways

If you already have a child from a previous relationship and want more — solo is a viable, genuinely easier path than co-parenting again

Solo motherhood and co-parenting can coexist in one family — it is hard, but it’s doable and women do it

The complexities of being a solo mum almost always come from the co-parenting side, not the parenting itself

Building your living situation intentionally — even a duplex next door to another solo mum — is a legitimate, practical, brilliant idea

Shift workers who are single parents are entitled to government-subsidised in-home care — it exists, it just takes paperwork

Get the process started before you’re sure — Merryn was dating while she was on the donor registry and that’s completely fine

Start before 35 if you can — not because it’s impossible after, but because every year matters

 

This episode is brought to you by City Fertility
Exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia? City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

 

Looking for a way to help explain your family to others?
My Perfect Family is the perfect book to show there are so many different ways to create a family, whilst normalising the language associated with donor conception. Perfect for all families who want to show their children that families come in many forms and that not all families look like theirs. Get your copy here.

She always knew
Sam walked into a fertility clinic at 24 with her friend as her fake partner, because she assumed single women weren't allowed to do this alone. When the counsellor handed her a booklet with a section on solo mums, she had a quiet revelation: she didn't need to pretend anything.

She went on the donor waitlist that day. Then she waited three years.

Sam is an emergency department nurse in Canterbury, New Zealand, who grew up in a family with a cycle of difficult relationships and decided early that the best thing she could do for herself — and for a future child — was to do it differently. When she realised donor conception meant she could have a baby without any of that cycle attached to it, she felt, as she describes it, delighted.

She was 28 when she finally got the call that a donor was available. She was 29 when she fell pregnant — on her first frozen transfer, the one she called the Easter transfer, the favourite egg that ever existed. She named him Dandy Lion while he was still in her uterus, because dandelions are resilient and they symbolise the sun, moon, and stars. She did her injection in the back of an ambulance. She showed everyone at work a weekly ultrasound. She threw herself a gender reveal party in the emergency department with blue lollies and a balloon pop. She found out she was pregnant on Mother's Day.

Her son is now eight months old. Sam recently got back from Fiji — terrible weather, little shacks in the middle of nowhere, best memories she's ever made. She’s found a beautiful Canterbury solo mum community from a Facebook post. She goes to the Solo Mum Society book club at one in the morning NZ time. She's one and only, by choice, and completely at peace with it.

This is one of the most joyful episodes I've recorded in five seasons.

In this episode:

Growing up in a family with a difficult relationship pattern — and deciding to break the cycle

Walking into a fertility clinic at 24 with a fake partner because she thought single women couldn't do it alone

Going on the NZ donor waitlist at 24, expecting a two-year wait — and waiting over three years

Choosing a donor in New Zealand based on why he donated and openness to early contact

IVF at 28-29: doing injections between ambulance shifts, finding the whole process genuinely fascinating

A fresh transfer that didn't work, then the Easter frozen transfer that became Bubba

Finding out she was pregnant on Mother's Day — doing a home test and planning it that way

Pregnancy as an emergency department nurse: telling colleagues early for safety reasons, the whole ward adopting him as the ward baby, weekly ultrasounds for the team

Pre-labour rupture of membranes at 39 weeks — going in terrified, having the most incredible birth experience

Pulling Bubba onto her chest herself and cutting his cord

The triple feeding plan in the first weeks — and why breastfeeding was harder than she expected

Coming home to just the two of them in a thunderstorm — what the NZ system looks like (Plunket, midwife for 6 weeks, Plunketline)

Finding a Canterbury solo mum community via a Facebook post — now she attends monthly meetups

The SMS Facebook group, book club, and SMS Membership that filled the gap

Being blindsided by how much the village disappears after discharge — the loneliness nobody warns you about

Fiji at seven months — terrible weather, magic memories, and why his childhood is her motherhood

Choosing to be one and only — and the beautiful logic of treasuring every moment because it only happens once

What she says to him every night — and what she'd tell anyone considering this path

Key Takeaways

You don't have to be certain to start — in New Zealand, you can go on the donor waitlist and stay on it without committing to anything, because it can take years

Shift work and IVF can work together — let your clinic know your schedule and they'll accommodate; Sam's clinic moved her to 11am appointments so she could sleep after night shifts

The village may disappear after discharge — this is not just a solo mum experience, but solo mums often feel it more acutely. Build your intentional village before the baby arrives.

Being one and only isn't settling — it can be a deliberate, joyful choice to give everything to the experience of one

She found the Canterbury solo mum community from one Facebook post — if there's no one near you, be the one who starts it

His childhood is your motherhood — the experiences you create for him are also the memories you carry

The NZ process: Fertility Associates offer free consults with blood tests; Plunket provides early childhood support; Plunketline is a free helpline for new parents

Donor conception in New Zealand requires a local NZ donor — there is no access to international donors

This episode is brought to you by City Fertility
Exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia? City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

 

Not sure whether this path is right for you?
A Sounding Board Session with Alisha is a one-to-one call to work through wherever you're at — the decision, the process, the fears. You don't have to have it figured out before you book. Book your session here.

Every woman going through donor conception at a fertility clinic in Australia is required to attend implications counselling. And almost every one of them turns up expecting to be assessed, judged, and told whether they're worthy enough to be a mum.

Narelle Dickinson has been working in this space for 30 years. She finds that deeply sad.

Narelle is a reproductive psychologist, fertility counsellor, and the director of Lotus Health and Psychology in Brisbane. She specialises in the prenatal and perinatal field, works in the surrogacy space, supports families through birth trauma and pregnancy loss, and has spent 25 years doing donor conception counselling — watching the landscape shift from almost exclusively heterosexual couples to a community that now includes far more single women choosing this path as a first option, not a last resort.

In this episode she explains what implications counselling actually is, what it's actually for, and how to get the most out of it rather than treating it as a tick-box exercise. She talks about what changes when you're using a known or recruited donor rather than a clinic donor. She explains why people who are using an unregulated recruited donor without going through a clinic should consider seeing a counsellor anyway — and what a donor who refuses to sit in a counselling room should tell you. She talks about the unexpected emotional waves that can come after a positive test, after the baby arrives, and years later when your child starts asking harder questions.

And she closes with something worth carrying: the goal of donor conception counselling isn't getting you pregnant. It's helping you build a family. Those are very different things.

Narelle and her team offer telehealth across Australia. If you're looking for an implications counsellor, make sure you're using an ANZICA-accredited practitioner — the Australia and New Zealand Infertility Counselors Association — whose reports will be accepted by any clinic.

Find Narelle at:

Website - lotushp.com.au.

Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/lotushealthandpsychology/

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/LotusHealthPsychology/ 

 

In this episode:

Why the reproductive psychologist field has shifted — from heterosexual couples to increasingly single women choosing this as a first option

What women expect implications counselling to be — and why that expectation is almost always wrong

What implications counselling actually does: it's not an assessment, it's preparation for the next 20, 30, 50 years

How the session is different for a solo mum than for a couple, and why it should be

The importance of singing from the same songbook — how everyone around your child needs to be using the same language and the same story

What to expect if you're using a clinic-recruited ID release donor — disclosure, donor siblings, future contact

What changes if you're using a known donor — role, naming, extended family expectations, what the donor's parents think is happening

Why going to implications counselling even if you're using a recruited donor outside a clinic is one of the most important things you can do

The red flag that matters most: a donor who won't sit in front of a health professional

How the unregulated space works, what family limits mean and don't mean, and why the issue isn't the rules — it's the enforcement

When to reach back out for counselling: during a hard IVF cycle, after a positive test you can't quite believe, in the newborn phase, and when your child starts asking questions that don't have easy answers

The "I should be grateful" trap — why women who've been through fertility treatment often feel they have no right to struggle

Disclosure as your child grows: keeping the channel open, making sure they know they're allowed to ask, and understanding when the story stops being yours and starts being theirs

How to find an ANZICA-accredited fertility counsellor — and whether you can use someone interstate for your clinic

Key Takeaways

Implications counselling is not an assessment of your worthiness as a parent — it's preparation for the decades ahead

If you're using a recruited donor outside a clinic, you can still access a fertility counsellor — and you probably should

The first red flag with any recruited donor: unwillingness to sit in a counselling room and answer questions in front of a professional

Family limits apply to informal home insemination too — the issue is that nobody is enforcing them

The urgency to get pregnant is real, but it can't override the need to make good decisions — you aren't just choosing sperm, you're choosing your child's genetic origin and medical history

"You don't need a partner, but you do need a village" — and if you don't have one, now is the time to start building it

The donor conversation doesn't end when your child is told — it evolves at every stage, and you can go back to a counsellor at any of those stages

Make sure your fertility counsellor is ANZICA-accredited — their reports are accepted by all clinics in Australia

Telehealth means you don't need to be in the same state as your counsellor

This episode is brought to you by City Fertility
Exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia? City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

 

Pregnant or TTC solo?
The Bump Membership is your virtual village — a private WhatsApp community of solo mums to be, plus fortnightly connection calls on Zoom where we share, laugh, and support one another. Members also receive exclusive discounts on Solo Mum Society courses and products. Find out more.

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 about traits from the father

One solo mum found in Bathurst — otherwise connecting with the community will mean trips back to Sydney

Planning a home daycare in Orange from January

Bali booked — now with mum coming too, in separate accommodation

Already more capable than she thought she'd be — and what she'd tell someone about to do this alone

Two embryos in the freezer, one more vial of sperm, and thinking about whether there'll be a second

Key Takeaways

Starting earlier doesn't guarantee it'll be quicker — but it does mean there's more time to work through what comes up

A thin endometrial lining can be the hidden barrier that no one mentions until you're already in treatment — ask about lining thickness early

Five AA-grade embryos all failing is not a sign of failure — it's a sign the process is complex and the next round might look different

When you lose access to something you've relied on as a next step, that limbo is its own grief — name it

The solo mum community shows up for itself in remarkable ways — the NSW donor audit result happened because one woman refused to let it stand

Breastfeeding is genuinely hard and there's no shame in finding it that way — get a lactation consultant early

You are more capable than you think — if it's just you and you have to do it, you do it

Moving home temporarily is a practical and sensible choice — the trade-offs are real but so are the benefits

 

This episode is brought to you by City Fertility
Exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia? City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

 

Still considering whether this path is right for you?
The Considering Solo Motherhood course helps you make an informed, empowered decision — and understand what the process actually looks like before you start. Live or on demand, from anywhere in the world. Learn more here.

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 it

Dad meeting Mia before he passed, and the photo Brooke will always treasure

Mia's name — what it means, and the Italian connection shared by grandmother and donor

Postnatal depression triggered by sleep school — recognising it the same night and calling a helpline

Co-sleeping, no sleep training, waking three to four times a night — and why it works for them

Three embryos in the freezer and the daily internal debate about a second child

What she'd say to Mia, and what she'd say to anyone letting fear stop them

Key Takeaways

A wake-up call doesn't have to be your own health scare — watching someone you love nearly die can be more than enough

Doing paperwork in the background isn't crazy — it's forward motion when you're not fully ready to commit yet

11 eggs at 43 without any special vitamins or protocols — the fertility cliff is real, but it is not a guarantee

Making peace with the possibility it might not work is one of the most powerful things you can do during IVF

Telling nobody about a cycle removes the pressure of having to update people — and sometimes that's exactly what you need

PND after solo motherhood doesn't mean you made the wrong decision — getting help early changes everything

A gynaecologist who tells you you're too old at 36 is not the right specialist for you

The fear you think will be hardest — bringing a child into the world without another parent — disappears the moment they arrive

This episode is brought to you by City Fertility
Exploring fertility treatment as a solo mum in Australia? City Fertility offers an exclusive 20% discount for No Need for Prince Charming listeners. Claim your discount here.

 

TTC or pregnant and looking for your village?
The Bump Membership is a private WhatsApp community and fortnightly Zoom connection calls for solo mums-to-be across Australia and New Zealand. Join here.