'I thought I was jet-lagged from my flight. It was hours before I discovered what was really wrong.'

Between the ages of 27 and 35, I found myself in my baby shower era — but it wasn't exactly the era I'd planned.

While friends and family were busy googling the best prams and how to decorate a nursery, I was still unsure if I could ever be a Mum (in the traditional sense of the word, anyway).

Unfortunately, my baby era was pushed back a little because I had my first stroke aged 27.

It was the first of four strokes I would have.

The first time I had a stroke I was on holiday in Bali. I'd been to visit family who I hadn't seen in a while.

The night before my first stroke, I went to bed feeling very tired. But I expected that. Any flight can take it out of you, right?

I figured I was just a bit fatigued because of travelling and the travel time and the flight.

It took a few hours for me to realise that it was much more than just fatigue. I had a stroke.

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There were no alarms, no bells, no whistles. I had no idea.

My face had dropped but I hadn't noticed. I hadn't looked in the mirror.

One arm was heavier than the other, but I just thought I was tired.

My brain was completely frazzled. I wasn't making any sense. 

Two months of rehab, learning to walk and talk again with the help of physios and speech pathologists, I realised these people would become part of my life. 

After one stroke, I thought, okay, I'll fight back. I didn't expect to have any more. The next stroke came when I was at work at my computer. All of a sudden, nothing made sense.

The words on my computer were scrambled, and I remember thinking: 'What's going on?'

It was another stroke.

But, just like the first one, I didn't feel defeated. 

That was, until the third stroke and the fourth and final stroke totally took me down.

They happened a week apart.

I couldn't walk or talk, it was a total 'what the heck is happening to me' experience.

After the first stroke, the recovery was long. I spent months in the hospital.

It was hard. You just want to go home.

I remember the joy of going home more than I remember the agony of being there.

Honestly, it was a blur.

I don't remember much. I have to pause, flick through my internal memory bank and piece it together.

It's not instant, but I've found a strategy that works.

Four strokes. It was a wild time, not just for me, but for everyone.

And I've learned this: you can't live in fear of what might happen.

Because when you've already been through the worst. You realise you're different now, but you're okay.

It's not been easy to recover. It's not like I just woke up one day and could walk, talk,  and do all the things I used to take for granted before.  

My life was totally reshuffled, and it's up to me now to pick up the pieces.

But eventually I bounced back. I felt like myself again.

 As each stroke followed, especially the third, something had shifted. Inside, I still felt like me, but outwardly, I wasn't the same.

A new reality started to settle in: my body no longer moved through the world the way it once had.

Yes, the four strokes changed the landscape of my life, but it has given me a determination and appreciation for life that you can't learn anywhere except for when you are looking at life with new eyes.

You just have to go for it and not let anything stop you! Don't wait to be good, do what you love and do it now!

Today, at 35, after seven years of having this 'situation' happen to me, I feel I'm ready to relaunch my baby era.

However, doctors are cautious, my husband is cautious, but I still want to hear a little call of 'Mummy!'

Camille with her husband. Image: Supplied.

It wasn't always like that. Like most other young women, I dreamed of getting married and having kids.

When I was 16, I had the world at my feet. I thought anything was possible and some things I just assumed would happen, like having children, for example.

I am eerily reminded of a time when I was sitting in a hammock by the pool, so relaxed, my little dachshund was running around at my feet.

 I had a sense she was a bit sad. But why?

It was as though she knew my future and felt bad, but for what, I had no idea. But I felt the echo of unexplained sadness too, so much so that it's etched in my memory when I tell this story, it was a moment, perhaps a glimpse into the future.

Everyone is worried about me having another stroke (however, I feel I won't because I have full faith in the medicine I'm now on). The doctor would like me to prepare for other plans.

(I want others to know that, like any pregnancy, there are risks, and yes, mine might be higher, but throughout life, it's the same – you take risks to get an amazing reward, and having a child is the reward and the risk all at once).

Medically, it's complex. Emotionally, it's doubly complex.

So, if you are someone going through something like this, know that whatever choice you make, it's okay. Don't let 'disability' stop you, be creative (there are more ways than one to get what you want) and don't let anyone else stop you, especially yourself!

I'm still becoming the person I know I can definitely be.

Beneath the layers of the strokes is the person I definitely am: strong, determined, maybe a little stubborn, no matter what happens next either way. 

It's a primal feeling in my body and whatever scary challenges come my way, I feel ready, and I will take them on – who knows? 

Whatever the news the doctor delivers to me on my next visit as I try to sell him on my idea.

I might even pass through it all with flying colours – I've got to believe that what I'm doing is for a cause – a great one! – where a little Cami and Tom can soon join the ranks.  

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• A decade ago, Tessa James got a shock diagnosis. Then she made a promise to herself.

• 'I thought I was stressed about my son's life-saving surgery. Then I received the diagnosis.'

• 'I had unexplained chronic pain for 18 years. It took becoming a doctor to finally get a diagnosis.'

Feature Image: Supplied.