Sunshine through the clouds

Finding brief moments of joy in the unrelenting IVF journey

Not for the first time in the past few weeks, someone has asked me about childbirth, then how many embryos we still have in the freezer, then if we’ll do it all again.

It’s been nine weeks. We’re still very much in the trenches. I am still processing how the birth itself happened. I barely have time in the day to sit and eat a meal or have a shower without careful pre-planning.

No, I’m not thinking about if we’ll do it again yet.

The person who asked me did then say “I suppose you’re only just getting your body back after years of medication”. They’re not wrong. Having been signed off by the doctor six weeks post-C-section, my body is more naturally itself than it has been in three years (and will never be the same again).

For as long as you do IVF, it is a relentless cycle of supplements, injections, oral medications, suppositories, invasive physical procedures and intense emotional peaks and troughs.

For most, it is hideously expensive. Success rates are such that the majority of patients will go through more than one cycle, and some may not ever walk away with a baby.

The question of if we will ever put ourselves through it all again is one for another day (especially as I am currently typing this one-handed while our baby screams and I try to settle her).

But I’m asking a different question today…

Beyond a positive pregnancy test, does the IVF process ever have any uplifting moments?

I don’t want to be constantly negative about IVF: I want women reading this to find areas of light in an intense process.

Here are some of my moments of light…

I’ve learned so much about incredible science: the IVF process is utterly mind-blowing, especially when you factor in the genetic testing we underwent. The fact that geneticists could test a cluster of five-day-old cells, visible only under a powerful microscope, for certain medical conditions, is extraordinary. I am in constant awe of the brains that have made this progress possible.

I have even more respect for the female body: until I started this process, I didn’t really think about what a woman’s body can do (other than feeling deeply resentful about cramps and emotions every month). IVF inevitably makes you acutely aware of everything that your body is doing to build a tiny human, as well as the fact that Every. Single. Month. adult women’s bodies are naturally creating a nest to grow a whole human…just in case.

I’m more in tune with my own body than I ever thought possible: yes, what your body goes through with IVF is gruelling, but I also understand myself better than ever before. I am in tune with exactly what is happening each month and why, what is making me feel all the feels, and how I can best manage that.

I have a pride in myself that I didn’t have before: on the back of the above two points, I have a new self-confidence that I didn’t know was living inside me. I have never been body-confident, but after the last few years I am less hung up on what my body looks like and more proud of what it can do. It has gone to hell and back physically and remained strong and healthy. And I have gone through things emotionally that I never thought I would be able to cope with, and come out on the other side even more resilient.

IVF has grown my relationship with my husband: there hasn’t just been a change in my relationship with myself, but in that with my husband. I have watched him grow and change as he has managed the highs and lows of the journey with me. I have seen him in the depths of his own IVF disappointment and experienced a mutual hope that connects us both powerfully. We have held each other up and made plans for different possible futures with the two of us at the core. The ups and downs of the process have compelled us to move from honeymoon phase of husband and wife to true life partners.

I have connected with some incredible people: because I have lived and breathed fertility and IVF, I have connected with a circle of people who I might never have met or grown close to previously. Women and men who have trodden their own family paths, whether that is children through IVF, embracing a childless life or celebrating a life that is emphatically childfree by choice. They all inspire and lift me up, and without the IVF journey I would never have made these connections.

So yes, it’s exhausting physically. It’s mentally and emotionally hideous. It is a drain on savings. It’s a journey I wouldn’t wish on anybody. But if it’s a path you find yourself on, there are moments where the sun breaks through the clouds, joy glimmers and you love the person it has made you.