Infertility & Dog Adoption

I know what you're thinking. How do dog adoption and infertility go hand in hand?

Well, in all honesty, they don't. But I guess they sort of do. At least in my case, they did.

From a very early age, I knew that I wanted to be a mum. I wanted the wedding ring, the amazing husband, the two kids and counting, the whole nine yards.

As a girl, I was constantly assured that when I was a woman, it would happen. People were always warning me to be careful because it's so easy to get pregnant. I actually ended up in my nurse's office crying my eyes out thinking I was pregnant after I lost my virginity even though we'd taken all the precautions and there was no way I could have been! But hey, it got me half a day out of school to have 'the talk' with my mum before my dad got home from work.

When I turned 21 and decided it was time for me to take that leap, I was completely unprepared for the darker side of fertility.

After over a year of trying to conceive I had hit one of the lowest points in my life. Everyone around me was getting married, having babies and buying houses and there I was, unmarried, in a relationship with a guy who was totally wrong for me (I see that now) and desperate to fill the void inside of me.

I was consumed with taking excessive amounts of pregnancy tests, sign spotting every three weeks, certain that this month would be the month.

I stressed myself out so badly that I'm almost 100% sure it was one of the reasons I didn't manage to conceive.

By year two my relationship was on the rocks. We'd been trying so hard to conceive that our entire world was consumed by it. Our bathroom was filled with pregnancy and ovulation tests. I refused to go to parties because I didn't want to drink or see my friends who were pregnant. I avoided my partner's sister because she'd just given birth to the most beautiful little boy in the world.

I was falling apart and in truth, the last thing I needed in my life was a baby to take care of. I couldn't even take care of myself.

Then one day I was scrolling through Facebook when I saw that my cousin had just adopted a new dog. He was cute and tiny and she dressed him in the most fabulous sweaters.

So what did I do?

I went ahead and got myself a late birthday present: a dog. A chihuahua to be exact.

Now I don't in any way condone anyone buying a pet as a present. That whole 'a dog is for life, not just for Christmas' thing is real!

But my little man turned out to be just the thing I needed to get my head out of the conceiving game and into the whole living my life again game.

My little boy, Chester, was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Dog's really are man's best friend.

He helped me get out of the flat, gave me a cuddle buddy during my long lonely nights when my partner was on the night shift, and yes, he even let me dress him up in some seriously cute outfits.

I'm sure he hated every minute of it but he endured and in his torment, we found an unbreakable bond.

My desire to be a mother didn't diminish but he allowed me the chance to learn to take care of something other than myself as well as giving me the time I needed to heal.

Four years later, when I met the love of my life after a horrendous breakup, he got me through the whole ordeal of trying all over again.

To this day I firmly believe that I couldn't have gotten through it without my loveable pooch and, even though my husband rolls his eyes every time I say it, Chester has been and always will be my first son!

Now he has the trauma of dealing with his two-year-old little sister of the human variety but he will always be a huge part of our family and I'll always love him for the cuddles and valuable lessons he has taught me over the years.

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