‘I didn’t realise you could be born without a womb until it happened to me’

As a teenager, Andreia Trigo was surrounded by friends and classmates who were going through puberty. When she reached the age of 15 and her period had still not arrived, her mother took her to the doctor to get some advice.

“The doctor said ‘some girls don’t start until later, just wait’,” the now 41-year-old tells The Independent. “Next year, we went and the doctor said to wait another year. Once I was 17, the doctor said, ‘We need to look into it’.”

Ms Trigo, a nurse, says they carried out blood tests which came back as normal, as well as doing a pelvic ultrasound which didn’t show anything unusual.

“They put me on the pill to trigger a bleed,” she adds. “They told me to put on weight but none of this worked and it was only when I had been to the gynaecologist and she tried to do a physical examination but that was very painful – that was the first time when they said I think you might not have a uterus.”

Another doctor went on to diagnose her as having no uterus, while also telling her she was missing the top part of her vagina and would be referred for reconstructive surgery, she recalls.

“I didn’t know it was possible not to have a uterus,” Ms Trigo adds. “My first question was, ‘Does that mean I can’t have children?’ She replied, ‘I don’t think you will be able to have children.’ I asked the same question over and over again. I remember crying. I felt quite alone. I didn’t know other people had the same problem as me.”

She was born with Mayer-Rokitansky-Küster-Hauser (MRKH) syndrome, a condition that means she was born without a uterus, vagina, or cervix. 

The condition affects around one in 5,000 women, and while those with the condition have functioning ovaries, they are generally not able to become pregnant.

The day Ms Trigo was given her diagnosis, she walked out of the clinic with her mother – who was carrying her baby sister in her arms – and they both cried.

“I hadn’t even had time to consider whether I wanted children or not because I was so young,” she says. “But all those dreams were taken away from me.”

As an adult, Ms Trigo underwent reconstruction surgery on her vagina. She recalls that it was very difficult juggling her first year as a nursing student with recovery, while those around her were enjoying the usual university rites of passage.

She says: “My nursing colleagues were dealing with normal things at uni – going to placements, going out, first dates, all of that, and I had all these big questions about who I was, my identity, and ‘Am I really a woman?’”

She reflects it was only after the surgery that she began to come to terms with the fact the main impact of her diagnosis was her infertility.

“Because now that the sexual part was fixed, infertility is a disease that stays forever,” she adds. “And if I ever wanted to have children, I would have to have surrogacy, which in itself is very complex.”

For the moment, Ms Trigo says she and her husband have made the decision not to try and find a surrogate.

She is now the founder of a company called Enhanced Fertility, which uses artificial intelligence and remote diagnostics such as blood and sperm tests, as well as scans and swabs, to help people with their fertility.

“It’s so many people, but people don’t talk about infertility,” she adds. “We are told when we are growing up that infertility is not something that should be a problem. We are told that a boy and a girl can have sex and pregnancy is going to happen very easily and quickly.”

Ms Trigo, who lives in west London, points to World Health Organisation statistics which estimate around one in six people experience infertility.

“I wanted to dedicate my life to finding a positive meaning in my own diagnosis,” she says. “And that is why I do what I do. I want to help other people who are struggling with infertility figure out what the problem is. I want to help them have a baby much faster.”