Sandra McNicol

At 29, they split up.

Determined to move forward, she started dating again.

But by 32, she found herself in another relationship that ultimately wasn’t right. The breakup triggered what she described as a crisis—a moment of realisation that life wasn’t unfolding the way she had expected.

She left her corporate job in Amsterdam, packed her bags, and went travelling.

A Moment of Clarity

During this time, Sandra attended a self-leadership retreat designed to help participants understand themselves better. It was there, in an unexpected moment of reflection, that she realised just how deeply she wanted to become a mother.

At 32 years old, she finally felt ready. But there was one major obstacle—she still hadn’t found the right partner.

Determined not to let time slip away, she continued travelling, eventually settling in Barcelona, Spain. Years passed, and by 36, she had yet to meet someone she wanted to build a family with. Knowing that fertility declines with age, she decided to take action: she would freeze her eggs.

Egg Freezing: The Illusion of a Guarantee

Sandra approached egg freezing with the same mindset many people do—as a safety net. She never actually thought she would need to use them.

But as she later described, it was like purchasing travel insurance—something you get just in case, but never expect to rely on.

At the time, she was in a privileged position compared to many others. She was living in Spain, a country known as a fertility hub, where treatments were more affordable than in places like the United States. She had also just been made redundant from her job, meaning she had a severance package that made the financial decision easier.

Even with all these advantages, the process wasn’t what she expected.

The hormonal treatments were intense. The daily injections, meant to stimulate her ovaries to produce multiple eggs, left her feeling physically and emotionally unrecognisable.

She had anxiety attacks at night, waking up drenched in sweat. She felt an overwhelming sense of urgency—as if she had to find a partner immediately before time ran out.

Dating became even more complicated. She felt like she was scaring potential partners away with her determination to become a mother.

And then there was the physical toll. When she later went for gynecological exams, doctors noted abnormalities , likely caused by the high doses of hormones she had taken.

She had gone through all of this assuming she was preserving her future as a mother. But life still had other plans.

Click here to read more about egg freezing and the things you might not already know. 

Finally Finding Love

At 39, Sandra met the man who would become her husband.

By that point, she had spent nearly a decade searching for the right partner—a journey filled with heartbreak, false starts, and loneliness.

On their first date, she wasn’t sure where he stood on the topic of children. His Spanish was fast, and her understanding of the language wasn’t perfect at the time.

So, she subtly tested the waters, trying to figure out if he wanted kids without making it seem like an interrogation.

It wasn’t until their third or fourth date that things became clear. Frustrated by the ambiguity, he finally burst out:

“Are you interested in me or not?”

Caught off guard, Sandra admitted that she wasn’t sure if they had the same goals in life. When she explained that she wanted children, he surprised her.

“I never said I didn’t want kids,” he told her.

He had simply assumed that fatherhood wasn’t in the cards for him because he hadn’t met the right person yet. Now, with Sandra, everything changed.

Pregnancy, Loss, and Grief

By 41, Sandra and her husband were married and eager to start a family.

She assumed she would get pregnant easily—after all, she had no reason to believe otherwise. Her grandmother had given birth at 40, and the narratives she had grown up with were filled with fertility success stories.

And then it happened. At 42, she conceived naturally.

Excitement quickly turned into devastation.

At 10 weeks, a scan showed a strong heartbeat, and her gynecologist reassured her that everything looked perfect. But just one day later, she noticed spotting.

She went to the hospital, where doctors found that the baby still had a heartbeat. They told her to rest, that there was nothing she could do.

Eight days later, she miscarried at 11 weeks.

She described the experience as shock, terror, and overwhelming grief, made worse by the physical intensity of the loss. She hadn’t expected how much would come out of her body, how confronting and traumatic it would be.

Even though doctors reassured her that there was nothing she could have done, the guilt lingered.

Trying Again, and Facing the Final Goodbye

Sandra conceived again in 2018, but this time, the loss came earlier.

At just five weeks, she experienced what doctors dismissed as a chemical pregnancy—a term that made it feel as if the loss wasn’t real.

But to Sandra, it was real.

She knew she had been pregnant. She felt the changes in her body. She had already envisioned her future with this baby.

Still, she pressed forward. She decided to use her frozen eggs—the ones she had stored years earlier.

One by one, they were eliminated. Out of 12 eggs, only one made it to implantation. She was told that it might have chromosomal abnormalities, but nothing serious.

She felt pregnant. She was convinced it had worked.

But it hadn’t.

The final call from the doctor confirmed what she already feared—her last chance was gone.

Her husband had one last boundary: if IVF didn’t work, they would not continue. No egg donors. No further fertility treatments. No adoption.

It was over.

Acceptance and Healing

Eighteen months later, Sandra’s husband had a vasectomy—a difficult but loving decision. Emotionally, he could not bear the possibility of another pregnancy loss, and in doing so, they closed the door on any last hope of a miracle.

At first, it sent her spiraling into grief again. But, in time, she found peace.

She discovered the childless not by choice community, where she connected with others who understood her pain. She started hosting support groups, using her coaching skills to help others navigate this unexpected life path.

And eventually, a thought emerged in her mind:

“I can be happy, even without children.”

Today, Sandra honors the three babies she lost—Lucia, Leo, and Sagrada—and helps others find meaning beyond motherhood.

Her story is one of resilience, heartbreak, and ultimately, acceptance.

With love and compassion,

Rosie x