10 reasons why infertility is like Wizard’s Chess.

Feel familiar?

So it's National Fertility Awareness Week this week (here in the UK), which is an important event for raising both funds and awareness for the "1 in 6 couples, and others, in the UK who struggle with infertility", of which, Husb and I are one.

The second notable thing about this week is that the clocks went back last Saturday... which means it's practically Christmas (according to the shops at least), ergo perfectly acceptable that I sat in my PJs all weekend and watched back-to-back Harry Potter films.

Seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione battle to protect the Philosopher's Stone got me thinking. Fertility treatment is EXACTLY like Wizard's Chess. You put careful consideration into your next move but, get it wrong and the result is wholly uncompromising; it feels like you've been forcefully lopped through the heart with a rusty blade. There's no turning back from this; all you can hope is that your next game finds a safer path to check-mate, without dark magic blocking your every turn.

If, like the millions of people who have battled with infertility, you have experienced the heartache of unsuccessful IVF/ICSI/IUI cycles, and, perhaps (like me) you never went on to have a healthy pregnancy (or, at least, haven't YET), I imagine, we have a few things in common. 

So I'd like to use my voice during National Fertility Awareness Week to share some of my experiences of IVF and infertility so that, hopefully, people reading this will know that they're not alone in their feelings - and, for readers who may be supporting a friend or loved one through IVF and infertility, here are some thoughts* that might help you to understand their experience - it's honestly harder than they may ever let on. 

Thank you for caring enough to read this - we need and appreciate all the love and support.

* I have to caveat that these are my own personal experiences - I can't promise to speak for everyone, but I believe that speaking out about IVF and infertility in general will help others on the journey. And I'd love to hear your experiences too.

• IVFers have already been on a gruelling emotional journey, before IVF cycle #1 has even started. That's right. We've possibly had one or more miscarriages. We've probably long-since stopped enjoying sex AND spent many days and nights tormenting ourselves about the lack of answers to the oh-too-many WHYs. We've WAITED for so long. Our grief is real and our hope feels lost. And now there are drugs, uncertainty and a massive financial burden ahead. With no promise of a result. JOY.

• The drugs are SHIT. Honestly, I haven't met anyone who has said otherwise. And, when your ovaries are swollen like melons, your tummy is like a pin cushion - horribly black and blue, you feel ratty and you just want to sleep, all you have to keep you going is the hope that it will all be worth it. PLEASE let it all be worth it

• Confidence takes a nosedive. In fact, I've perfected the awkward shuffle when anyone starts to talk about "who's gonna be next in the office to have a baby" or "I know this may be hard for you, but I'm pregnant". Every day I find new ways to disguise my sense of shame and failure. Six years of infertility, and the confidence I once had has slowly but surely diminished

• Infertility is a lonely place. The number of people I feel comfortable confiding in is minimal and I choose not to tell people when I'm 'cycling' any more because I just can't handle the pressure. With each IVF cycle I found it harder and harder to talk to people about my experiences and my disappointments. I felt like, if I was boring myself with the never ending gloom.. what must my friends think! And, it got harder to keep making excuses as to why I don't want to go out on the razz, I can't begin to explain why I can't plan anything properly any more - just in case I need a scan or a blood test... because I don't know what day Egg Collection will be and I definitely don't want to plan anything in case I get the dreaded negative result (if I do, all I want is my Husb and a duvet). And, lots of my friends have kids, whom I love, but I feel that I make them feel awkward about being mothers when I'm not. I feel like the elephant in the room and other people's awkwardness (which is possibly in my imagination sometimes) just makes me feel even more uncomfortable. All in all, infertility is a very isolating experience

• We're emotionally, physically and financially spent - sometimes I feel like I just have nothing left in the tank. Just like my ovaries, I am running on empty. I've got nothing more to say... I have no news to share and... the money... There's a sports car / holiday home / designer wardrobe with my name on it, in the parallel universe where I didn't need IVF

• Normal life is "on hold" - I just couldn't cope with the stress of seeking out more responsibility at work. And, with the hope that each IVF would succeed, I've put off opportunities, trips and events that I would have previously jumped at, naively hoping that "I'll be pregnant by then". Why did I do that?! 

• We can't control our own destiny, despite trying. I've given it my all in the hope that it would help me achieve success. It hasn't got me anywhere - and I see that. Over the past six years, I've literally put all my eggs in one basket. I've focused all my energy and resources on getting pregnant. Has it helped? NO! Would I do anything differently if I had to do it all again? NO WAY! No-one undergoing IVF goes into it half-heartedly. With so much invested, you can't but help throw everything at it. Even when your well-meaning friends and family tell you to "carry on as normal" - this IS my "normal" right now

• We have a love-hate relationship with our bodies. I feel like mine has let me down. And now it's all bloated. And it still can't get pregnant. Did I mention that the drugs make us bloated? I don't see myself the same way as I used to, and I'm pretty sure Husb doesn't either, even though he says not. And, there's not a consultant in London who hasn't seen my uterus. Is NOTHING sacred any more?!

• It ain't over till the fat lady sings. And, in this case, myself and Husb are 'the fat lady'. No doctor or friend or relative can tell us when to stop. It's a decision that only we can come to when we're ready. So please don't judge us when we seem to be flying in the face of logic and medical reasoning

• Despite all this, we aren't victims. Infertility and IVF help people like me develop resilience and then some. It delves deep into our emotional, physical and spiritual reserves. Baby or no baby, we'll never be the same again. But, we continue to get through it and the only way is UP! Every IVFer I have ever spoken to has the same sense of determination. WE WILL NOT LET THIS BEAT US!

So, that's why I've just started my first donor-egg IVF cycle. I'm channelling my inner Harry, Ron and Hermione - hoping that, where there's a will, there's a way. If the path to parenthood is like a chess-board, one way or another, I'm determined to navigate safely to the other side. And, of course, we all hope for that little bit of magic to help get us over the line. Fingers crossed!