'After 15 years of failed fertility treatment, one simple test found why it was never going to work.'

For as long as I can remember, I chased the "white picket fence" dream. You know the one: marriage, kids, a family home filled with chaos and love.

It was the script I grew up believing was the ultimate goal, the version of womanhood society sold me on repeat.

I got married young, fell in love with the idea of being a mum, and never once imagined it wouldn't happen for us.

Why would I? Everywhere I looked, it was presented as inevitable. Parenthood was pitched as the reward for doing the right things all in love, settle down, start trying.

Except it didn't happen.

Instead, what followed was 15 years of fertility treatments, procedures, blood tests, scans, needles, ovulation tracking, failed cycles, and devastating miscarriages that left me physically and emotionally shattered.

Over those years, I heard all the clichés: "Just relax, it'll happen. You're still young. Don't give up hope." Every well-intentioned word only cuts deeper.

Watch: When to seek help for fertility concerns. Post continues after video.

But it was one simple medical screening — a test that should've been done at the start — that brought me to my knees. Years into this fight, I learned I had a chromosome disorder. Every injection, every cycle, every dollar spent, it had all been for nothing.

At that moment, I realised I'd been sold a lie. The lies we grow up believing.

The first lie? That parenthood is a given.

That if you tick the boxes: marriage, house, stability, then babies will naturally follow.

It's stitched into conversations, culture, and even the questions strangers ask women before they know our middle names. "Do you have kids?" always comes before "What lights you up?"

The second lie? That persistence guarantees reward.

I was told to "keep trying" and to "throw everything at IVF", to believe that effort and endurance would eventually end in a baby — as if the body is a vending machine and perseverance the loose change you feed it until the prize drops.

The third lie, and the cruellest one? That my worth as a woman was bound to motherhood.

That if I couldn't bear children, I was somehow less.

And let me tell you when you've endured endless rounds of IVF, only to be told the one thing you want most will never be possible, those cultural messages echo louder than ever.

I wish I'd known about the test that revealed my chromosome disorder. It's non-invasive. Simple. Yet it was overlooked.

If I could speak directly to every woman about to step into the exhausting world of IVF, I'd say this: ask about genetic screening first. Do it before you spend years of your life and thousands of dollars chasing hope that was never going to materialise.

Because it's not just the financial cost, it's the grief that accumulates cycle after cycle, the emotional toll of daring to hope only to have it ripped away, the slow erosion of who you are outside of the fight.

"My life is full, beautiful, and deeply meaningful even though motherhood isn't part of it." Image: Supplied.

For a long time, I couldn't answer the question "Do you have kids?" without crumbling inside. My answer was always soft, apologetic, as though childlessness was a stain I had to excuse.

But here's the truth I see so clearly now: my life is full, beautiful, and deeply meaningful even though motherhood isn't part of it.

I built a business from scratch, one that allows me to create homes that change the way people live. I have a marriage built on resilience, love, and laughter that survived storms many don't. I've travelled, mentored, written, and lived a life brimming with connection.

And yet, for years, I couldn't see any of that because I was blinded by the belief that my worth depended on achieving the dream I was sold.

When I wrote my book No Fence, No Limits, it was to show women that there is no single blueprint for a meaningful life.

The white picket fence we're told to chase? It's optional.

Your version of happiness, success, and fulfilment might look nothing like the picture in the glossy brochure and that doesn't make it less.

"Please know this: you are not broken. You are not less. Your story is not over," writes Kelly. Image: Supplied.

I've met women who are thriving in careers, in travel, in art, in friendships, in solo adventures, in marriages without children, in families they've built through choice.

Every single one of them is proof that there are countless ways to live a life that matters.

If you're in the middle of IVF right now, or grieving another miscarriage, or silently wondering why your body won't do what it's "supposed to," I see you.

I know the gut-wrenching ache. I know the loneliness. And I know how quickly well-meaning words can slice open the wound.

Please know this: you are not broken. You are not less. Your story is not over.

And if, one day, you find yourself at a fork in the road, the dream of motherhood fading, another path beckoning, take it. It might not be the path you imagined, but it can still lead somewhere extraordinary.

I've learned that grief and beauty can co-exist. That acceptance isn't about "getting over it," but about living with it and still finding joy. That life without children is not a consolation prize, it's simply another version of a full life.

Most of all, I've learned to answer the dreaded question, "Do you have kids?" without shame. My answer is simple now: "No, we don't."

And that's not the end of my story, it's just part of it.

Because while I may not have the family photo I once imagined, I have a life filled with love, meaning, and purpose. And I want other women to know they can too.

Kelly Donougher is the founder of 13 interiors and the author of No Fence, No Limits.

Feature Image: Supplied.