When I started writing my bumbling thoughts about life and MRKH over 10 years ago, I never really expected anyone to read what I wrote.

It was a form of catharsis for me, like writing a diary whilst also being a way for me to make sense of things I hadn’t always given the time to do.

I was taken aback by the number of comments, shares, likes and private messages I got (and still do) from people who, whilst in many cases not also having MRKH, could relate to what I said because they had been through something big and my words also resonated with them.

I was touched, not least because many of these people I knew reasonably well yet I had never known they had struggled with grief, trauma, infertility etc of their own. Being open and upfront is hard, especially on topics steeped in stigma and taboo, and sharing is not for everyone and that’s ok. It’s an incredibly personal thing to do.

But isn’t that amazing that by me opening up about MRKH it helped someone else open up and share in a way comfortable for them? That in that instant it helped them feel acknowledged and seen perhaps at a time and space where they didn’t regardless of if they knew anything about MRKH?

It shows that sometimes it’s not about finding those exact same people who have been through that exact same thing (although that is incredibly fulfilling as well) but its about finding someone to talk to and to feel connected to, at that time and in that moment.

This to me is what community is about. It’s not one single element or “thing” it can be specific or it can be broad, but most of all it is personal.

Even in the world today it can feel incredibly isolating despite having more information than we have ever had (about anything) to this point. It’s almost too accessible in some ways that just makes it overwhelming.

We have no clue what the person next to us is going through on a daily basis yet sometimes those disclosures with someone spark something. A different perspective, view or simply the comfort of knowing that even if someone doesn’t understand every element, they have your back.

I’ve always been an advocate for sharing my story because it is a part of me. I can’t change the fact I have MRKH and to be very bold, nor at this point would I want to. MRKH doesn’t define me but it has had a hand in shaping me over these twenty something years.

For those MRKHers diagnosed now, for their parents, friends and family, to see stories of hope, joy and the general reality of life makes a difference, but if MRKH has taught me anything is to also not be afraid to look beyond that.

I spent years embarrassed about talking about dilators (what 17/18 year old wouldn’t) but I was in my 30s before I realised that its not unique to MRKH. Dilators are used for different conditions as well. I also realised that infertility is so broad and of course affects both men and women yet my appreciation for the breadth of that didn’t even scratch the surface until I started writing and doing vlogs for wider fertility awareness groups.

In finding out these things I have also realised how much work there is being done, and still do do, to improve knowledge and acceptance. To feel represented and heard.

At the end of the day, I want to find people who get me. Who understand me and who want to help me grow on my journey.

It’s not a one time only choice like a terrible special offer in a supermarket that is so specific that if you get the combination slightly wrong means you are left with a bigger bill than expected, its about finding those people, more than anything, that you can rely on. That becomes your community, your “it takes a village” moment, if that’s what you want or need.

There is no countdown timer for when this has to happen, no magic number I can share. It’s personal and what you want and need from a community may not be the same as me and will 100% vary as your needs and wants change too.

Ultimately it comes down to what feels right for you at that time.

Charlie xxx