read real stories

Sometimes, the best advice comes from those who have walked the same path. There’s a strong sense of understanding, and an immediate bond that’s felt when someone understands your feelings, purely from their own experience. This is why we’re launching “In Your Words” a place where you can offer advice, give support, share your feelings and frustrations – all in the hope that you’ll help someone else who is experiencing and feeling the same thing. In Your Words, Helen. We are the 1 in 6. The problem with infertility, besides being the most emotional, horrendous & turbulent thing I’ve ever gone through, is that hardly anyone talks about it. People don’t put on their pregnancy announcements that it took them four months, seven months, twelve months or they needed medication to conceive or they needed IUI or IVF or they’ve been on a journey for five years and still don’t have a precious baby in their arms. Our experience with infertility is short, so far, compared to other peoples and I completely admire those that keep pushing ahead and never give up on their dream. After a year I was ready to throw in the towel to try and salvage my mental health, my relationships that I was neglecting and to try and wade through all the shit, to find the person I was before infertility turned our world upside down and took a away a big chunk of “me”. You only ever seem to hear how people got pregnant on their first try or their “honeymoon” babies. Once you get past the first month of trying, the brag factor seems to disappear. This makes you feel that when you don’t get pregnant on the first try, you’re some massive failure because everyone else was able to or that is your perception, this was definitely mine. We started trying to get pregnant long before we got married. Month after month I sunk deeper and deeper into a hole. I got white girl wasted on our wedding day. I’m not normally a drinker; but I felt it was the only way I could forget, forget about the pain for just one day…. It worked fortunately and I was able to have the best time I’d had in months, because for a few hours I didn’t have to think about infertility. Five times over a twelve month period we got positive pregnancy tests before starting any intervention and we never made it to an ultrasound. So early of a loss, you don’t even get the dignity of calling it a miscarriage. I just had to carry on normally, like that tiny little blastocyst inside of me that tried so hard to stick, didn’t make it, but you pretend like nothing happened. You already had hopes and dreams for that little being as soon as you saw two lines on that stick. The self loathing of my own body was so deep. Why can’t I do the one thing the female body is made for? I became a shitty wife, friend, colleague, daughter and sister. I didn’t want to cook, clean, exercise or do anything except eat my feelings. I started forgetting important events, losing my things and just being generally scattered, which is completely not like me at all. My husband really picked up so much slack over the last year, I am so grateful he is so supportive and isn’t put off by my extreme emotions and mood swings. I’m sure this is not how he pictured his first few months of married life. Socializing also became something I dreaded, because so often we got asked about kids…. Or our lack of kids. I kind of cherished lockdowns because I didn’t have to face anyone or face the questions or comments. Pregnancy announcements became something I also dreaded. How can someone else’s happiness, become your absolute misery? Then you feel like a shit person/friend for feeling so terrible about someone else’s joy, which adds to the self-loathing. I felt humiliated, pitied and defective as people had to tip toe around me with their pregnancy announcements, trying not to hurt my feelings. I appreciated people were being sensitive and kind to us, but I also felt embarrassed at the same time. I also felt terrible people had that worry of feeling of guilt or upsetting us, when it was the happiest moment in their lives, I felt like I was tainting their moment. I struggled as people who started trying well after us, were giving birth to their babies and I still wasn’t even a little bit pregnant and we were about to start the gruelling IVF process with no guarantee it would even work. In 2021, we had nineteen… yes nineteen pregnancy announcements in our lives. One particularly brutal week there was three over a five day period, the same week we found out our first medicated cycle failed. So not only was I not getting pregnant or staying pregnant, I felt like literally every single person around me was. Add some more to the self-loathing. Every time something else popped up on social media about babies or pregnancy, I would cry. I’ve cried in the toilets at the football, in my car, in the toilet at work, in the staff room at work and privately in more places than I can remember. I’ve probably cried more in the last year, than I have in the rest of my life combined. I had to learn to suppress my emotions when I was completely dying on the inside. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have made it through a single day without breaking down, because it is on my mind 24/7. Once you realise this probably isn’t going to happen the way it’s meant to, you go and seek help. There is so much waiting, so much poking, prodding, speculum’s, internal ultrasounds, blood tests… more waiting. Between us we have over 30 pages of pathology results. Unexplained infertility… Great. There’s no reason why this isn’t working, it just isn’t. Desperate to try anything, we both started to rattle when we walked. I had us both on a pretty intense supplement regime. I ate pineapple, drank pomegranate juice, ate different seeds at certain points in my cycle, did months of expensive acupuncture, waved moxa sticks all over my uterus, stopped wearing deodorant, wouldn’t touch alcohol or let my husband drink it either. Anything I could find we would try. I don’t even want to calculate the amount of money I wasted on trying anything Google told me might work or all the money I wasted on birth control pills I obviously never needed in the first place. I became really angry about the fact we were having to pay thousands of dollars just for a shot at parenthood, when most people at least get the getting pregnancy part for free. Then people start to get wind of your struggle and the well-meaning, but also useless/untrue & hurtful comments start. “You should go on a holiday” “You should stop stressing” “Have you tried tracking your cycle?” “Be POSITIVE” “Stop trying” “Just a do IVF”. We went on two honeymoons, while I was ovulating and no successful pregnancy. It’s scientifically proven that stress has no bearing on your ability to conceive and to ask someone who is seeking help at a fertility clinic if they have thought about tracking their cycle… my foot desperately wanted to make contact with a few throats. Then comes the added level of being infertile in a pandemic. Infertility sucks at any point but adding the level of anxiety and uncertainty of a pandemic just makes it even harder to bare. Then the isolating for treatments due to the fear of catching coronavirus. Making sure you don’t leave the house during a cycle in the fear your work or supermarket becomes an exposure site and all your hard work of injecting drugs into your body is all for nothing because they cancel your cycle and won’t allow you in the clinic for fourteen days. I started using food as a crutch. Every time I would feel a bad emotion…I would eat. I was also stuck in isolation, not able to distract myself in a healthier way and I wasn’t eating carrots. I was gaining weight rapidly, because in the world on infertility, good news is rare and bad news is common. So I also started hating myself for that as well. So why am I writing this long private story and posting it in a public forum? Infertility & miscarriage still feel like a taboo topics. I never thought that I would be 36 years old and still not have been able to have a successful pregnancy. I realised the more I started to talk to people other people about our struggle, the more I realised a lot of people struggle. Conceiving on your first month is rare, but they’re the people who will talk about it, so it seems more common than it actually is. Miscarriage is sadly also very common, more of my friends had miscarriages than I had ever realised. I would love normalise the subject of infertility and miscarriage so other women don’t have to feel alone. I don’t want a single person to feel like they have to hide such deep shame the way I did and still do. Having open and honest discussions about fertility, infertility and our road to starting a family, normalises what a lot of people are going through . Let’s also talk about it in a sensitive way, let people come to you and before you open your mouth and say “When are you having kids?” “You shouldn’t wait too long to have kids” “You should really think about having a baby” “How old are you? You need to get moving soon if you want a baby”. Just shut your pie hole. You have no idea if that person has been trying to conceive for seven years, they had a miscarriage last week, they’re currently injecting themselves with hormones every day, maybe they would rather lick cat vomit off fluffy carpet than procreate, they haven’t met the right person to start a family with yet or they have been told that it will never happen for them and they are still coming to terms with that. Be kind, because you never know what’s happening behind closed doors or the smile that is masking so much personal pain. Helen, thank you for sharing your story!

Sometimes, the best advice comes from those who have walked the same path. There’s a strong sense of understanding, and an immediate bond that’s felt when someone understands your feelings, purely from their own experience. This is why we’re launching “In Your Words” a place where you can offer advice, give support, share your feelings and frustrations – all in the hope that you’ll help someone else who is experiencing and feeling the same thing. We are very lucky to be able to share Amy’s story with you, and we hope that those who are considering going through this alone, or are currently going through it, get something out of this incredible woman’s journey. In Your Words, Amy. PART 1. My journey to have a baby. Part 1: Here I am Gainfully employed. Financially stable. Loving supportive family and amazing friends. What a life right? In fact, my friends often said I am on the side of the grass that they often dream of. Single, freedom with no responsibilities. What a perfectly green grass side I live on right? But as the years ticked by into my thirties, it became clear to me that something was missing from this near perfect life. There was a hole of discontent deep down inside of me. But I kept it buried there…. I wasn’t sure what it was and I powered through my thirties focusing on my career, family and friends, whilst on that never ending quest to find true love. Over that time, relationships and men came and went. Some held on for longer than others but at the end of the day, none of the men were right for me. It was ok at the time. Eventually that perfect guy would come for me…right? Did I make some wrong choices? Absolutely. I had donut glazed eyes because I love love and I love being loved. Probably why I let so many of these men stick around longer than they needed to and why none of them were ever the ‘one’. As the seasons rolled on, the tinder dates went from bad to worse, and it kind of just did not happen. Dating was not fun anymore. I started to worry that I had not found my person, my soulmate. I gave up. Did I miss my chance? Was I too picky? How did I not find anyone? What kind of messed up single underground world have I found myself in? Time passed and the sadness and realization that I was not where all my friends were, set in. I thought I had more time. I thought it would have happened by now. The dark hole suddenly started growing bigger and louder. The older I got, it started to become clearer and clearer to me what I wanted. I have listened for years, at coffees, brunches and drinks of my girlfriends’ telling stories of their own families. As much as I love listening to the stories of poo, spew, and no sleep, it starts to become harder to be in a conversation where you are not technically in it. A conversation where you have no input, no one asks you for advice, and no one cares for your opinion. As much as I am ok about hearing the fear of pooping yourself while in childbirth, I long to have a story of my own to talk about over a latte. A story about my own family. I longed for a family, one where I had a beautiful baby. My own child. The dark hole suddenly became clear. This is what I want. This is what I have dreamed of. I always knew I wanted to be a mum. There are so many kids in my life, and I am called Aunty Amy by most. It is amazing to be an Aunty and watch little lives grow up before me, but I still wished I had my own. This is what I am missing. I realize what I had longed for was not always the perfect partner, but a baby. To be a mother and to have my own family. I had come to the realization that I could go the rest of my life without a partner, but I couldn’t not be a mum. It was time and my lady clock was ringing louder than ever. My ovaries felt it every time I was near a baby, got a sniff of that amazing baby hair smell. It was like catnip! But, how was I going to do this? How was I going to make this happen on my own? Could I do this myself? And so started my long, emotional journey to create my own dream, my own story and ultimately create a life. The Journey begins For years I said to myself, if I get to thirty-five and still have no prospects of a partner or family, the least I could do is go and get checked out. My doctor sent me off to get the AMH blood test. A normal woman my age (thirty-five at the time of the test) should get a result of fifteen-thirty follicles, if not more. My results? Five. Five follicles. Where were they all? What had happened to them? Where did they go? I was then told that the number of follicles will significantly drop in another year. This became very real, very quickly. I cannot believe the thoughts about being a solo mum just became a hard and fast reality. My doctor told me I should take the next steps and to consider all my options. So, an appointment was booked to visit a doctor at IVF Australia. It is now or never. Strap in big girl this is really happening. Of course, the next thing to do was tell my parents. ‘Hey, I’m wanting to have a baby, buy some unidentified man’s sperm, and spend a ridiculous amount of money to make this happen. What do you think?’ I mean, hit them with a strong opener I thought. Thankfully through a lot of conversation, questions, and googling, they both understood the burning desire I had to have a baby. The rest of my family were also amazing and with no judgment, they all agreed to jump on the baby dream with me, with hearts full of love, minds full of openness and lots more support than I ever thought was possible. I told a couple of my best friends, and their messages were the same. They all supported me. Then it was time for my first visit to IVF Australia. Terrified, anxious and unsure of what this was going to be like. All I had in my mind was this was the right decision. Mum came to the first appointment with me. She would not have had it any other way. And honestly, I needed someone there with me as my anxiety was through the roof! I was naive to think this would be a 10min consult – it went for nearly 2hours of overwhelming information. My doctor is amazing. She is kind and so very reassuring. There was no judgement towards me wanting to do this alone. She told me it was now or never based on my AMH results and everything we discussed. If this is what I wanted now is the time. If I wait another year or two, there will be a strong possibility that my chance will be near to nothing. No options left for me to have my own child naturally . My doctor explained the process once more and that the best option was that I do IUI (intrauterine insemination) first. It is less invasive and there are less needles and drugs involved. As a single independent, financially stable, confident woman, I get minimal to no benefits while doing most of these procedures. If two IUI’s don’t work, we will bring out the big guns and try IVF. But for now, turkey baster method it is! The next thing to do is get on the Sperm Donor wait list. The realness of the situation took over fast and I was soon on the very small, and exceptionally long waiting list for sperm. SPERM!!! I have never even been on a list this exclusive before. I am told the wait is 8-12 months. I’ve waited this long, why not a little longer? And with that, a couple more blood tests and an extremely uncomfortable pap smear later, I was walking out of there realizing I had really started my journey. The long wait before finding ‘The One’ I had already been on my journey for over 8 months when in March 2020 everyone’s world halted. Covid-19, the first pandemic many had ever experienced in their lifetime. Everything in Australia and the world literally shut down. It was terrifyingly scary. But nothing was going to stop me, I was on a mission. Even in lockdown I forged ahead to my 1st session of mandatory counselling. There are two sessions in total to be had. I imagined they were trying to see if I was mentally fit enough to do this. Gosh was I? The call was fine, and I just talked about myself for an hour. Something I am perfectly fine with doing. All cleared by the counsellor, and she assured me that I was the not the first woman to do this on my own and I will not be the last. I still think about today, what she said. I am not the first solo mum. I feel less alone. I feel like I am apart of some secret coven of women that have something special to share with one another. What came in the next few months was a loooong, loooong wait. When was I going to reach the top of that exclusive wait list? I felt the anticipation and nerves every single day that I had to wait. The next 9 months were painfully slow and started sending me stir crazy. I felt like I rocketed off to a great start now each day ticks by slower than the one before . Closer to the end of the 9 months I had another counselling session. This was to talk about how to pick a donor. I had not thought that much into it, just knowing I was looking for a donor with similar features to my own. But then just when I thought all hope was lost for 2020, two days before Christmas, I reached the top of that very exclusive waitlist! I finally got access to the Sperm Donor list. What a great Christmas Present! That night I went to my best friend’s house, and we sat outside with a cuppa and trembling hands. I opened the iPad, logged in and, BOOM. There it was. The list. I had many months to think about what the list would look like. The endless options. The days it would take to scroll through and decide. How would I choose? I always thought it would be like a big book. I would rip out the prospects and line them up. Then I will have a big donor party with my closest family and friends to help me choose. That vision was quickly squashed when we opened the list to see only around fifteen donors. I then had to filter down – IUI, in NSW, etc., That left me with three. THREE donors to choose who would father my child. I thought there would be endless options that I would not be able to choose. Now I only have three to choose from. And in that 3, 1 was American which came with an additional $10k price tag. No thanks. The other two were not quite what I was looking for. It was quite underwhelming and to be honest not at all what I thought this moment would feel like. I shut the iPad, finished my cuppa, and I left feeling deflated and disappointed. For the next 5 weeks I checked the list ten times a day to see if anyone new had come on. Waiting to see if anyone ‘my type’ was there. It was starting to look like I wouldn’t find anyone. Cannot find a boyfriend in the real world and now finding it hard to find a donor. It seems like I would never find anyone. That dark hole felt like it was opening and swallowing me hole again. But just as I wiped away the tears and forced myself to remain positive, my donor turned up. ‘The One’. His profile was minimal, but funny, quirky and a bit weird. (Perfect) His photo that was provided will be one that is forever burned into my brain. I send the profile quickly around to my family to view, discuss and approve. I had 24 hours to let the donor team know if I would like to select him. Having a time limit on such a major decision was painful and stressful. Although great on paper, and my family reassuring me he was great, I was flooded with thoughts of “maybe he is not the one. Maybe there’s someone better out there? Maybe I need to hold out a bit longer?” But I was snapped out of these thoughts by the slap in the face I gave myself when I realized this is how I was with men in general. He’s not my boyfriend, husband, or partner. This Donor is providing me with something amazing. The chance to be a mum. He is ‘The One’ for me. Let’s get this party started – IUI Routine genetic testing, several blood tests and getting orientated at the IVF clinic was next. It was almost time to start. I am scared, nervous, anxious, excited – all the feelings that this was now very real. This was now really happening. I can’t turn back now, even if I wanted. I didn’t want to. This is my journey now. I am ready. My first night of injections was here. I am still scared of needles (says the girl with a dozen tattoos) and I am not sure what to expect. My best friend comes over to perform the first injection. My sister is taking notes and filming. And then, just like that, the needle goes in and out. It pinched. Didn’t totally hurt. Ok, I can do this! For the next 10 days my brother-in-law steps up – he is going to be a pro at this. He may never understand what he has done for me, and I will be forever grateful to him for stepping up to the plate, not only to give me the injections but to be there every night with support and making me laugh somehow even thought I was in pain. The needles started to hurt more every day and over the next 9 days I felt bruised, bloated and like a pin cushion. The emotions and hormones kick in somewhere around day four, and boy is that fun! Every few days there is an early morning blood test to see how those follicles are growing. By the end of the first week, I feel bloated and have a sore stomach. I struggle with feeling so fat that no clothes fit or look good. I am tired. I feel physically sick. I feel overwhelming emotion. After 9 days my body is tired. Exhausted. Sore. Then on the 10th day I got the call. It was trigger time! The trigger needle was setting me up for my IUI transfer the next day. It’s my donors time to shine. I have fear and excitement rush over me like I never thought possible. After the two needles that night, I can’t sleep. It is like the night before Christmas. Though I will not be receiving presents from Santa but one special present from my donor. The next day I awake with the realisation that the first IUI transfer day is here. My sister-in-law is being my support and coming with me. When we arrive, we exchange pleasantries with the nurses, and they run through the procedure. I take my position on the bed, my sister-in-law near my head and well the nurses, get to the other end. After some 20 minutes the nurses tell me the moment is here, the transfer is complete! Tears of pain and excitement stream down my face. I feel overwhelmed with so much emotion. Is that it? Is it done? The two weeks wait seems impossible. The challenging thing is there’s absolutely nothing I can do now. Within the two weeks, I wait, I work, I take progesterone pessaries twice a day like a champ and I do normal day to day things. It’s almost like nothing is happening, but there is and it’s scary. I am trying to not think about the fact that the next blood test I take could change my life. I can’t wait and the Tuesday before I take the blood test, I take a pregnancy test. Negative. It’s ok, I expected that. It’s so early. The again on the Thursday night as there was still no period. If I am having a blood test tomorrow, surely the pregnancy test will tell me now? I couldn’t stop myself. Negative. I am 99% sure I am not pregnant. The blood test was fine, and I spend the day waiting for the phone call. The phone rings. It is the nurse from the clinic. She informs me and apologies that this round the IUI was unsuccessful. I froze. She talks for some time, and I’m quite sure I am not listening. I ask about going again the next month. Why wait? Let’s go again. She discusses the next steps and says yes. I start again Tuesday. I hang up. I burst into tears. Hearing the words. The shock. Instant disappointment in myself, my body, the process. I knew this was not going to work the first time. Why was I crying? I was overwhelmed. I was sad. There’s only 3 days to rest. As Tuesday needles start again. The following Tuesday I start Round 2 IUI. For the next 8 days it’s another blur of needles. Some hurt more than others. This time I bruise, and bloat quicker than I did before. I feel gross and tired, and I cry every night. Oh, the hormones. Bloods and scans like before every couple of days until I get the call that the IUI is the next day. This round was quicker than last month. I must go home and take the trigger needle straight away. I have another sleepless night. Come on. This time must work. I say a prayer and go to sleep. Round 2 IUI transfer day. My sister’s turn to come today. We head in early. I’m nervous. I think she is nervous too. We go in and I take my place on the bed that is now all too familiar. There’s pain and tears stream down my face as I squeeze my sisters hand a little tighter. But just like that they are done. I’m sore and the cramping starts almost instantly. The hormones are raging through my body and all I want to do is go home and sleep. Here we go another 2-week impossible wait. I feel different this time. My stomach was cramping, and I felt more like something was going on. I felt nauseous all day towards the end of the 2 weeks. I can’t describe it, but this all feels different to the first time. I decided that even though it is way too early to tell, I will take a pregnancy test. I pee on the stick, and I go off and come back 5 minutes later. But when I come back, I look… wait… I need to put my glasses on… is that…. A line? I realized it had been a minute and I hadn’t taken a breath. Is it a line? It’s so faint. I can barely see it. I face-time my best friend and sister and I show them the stick. They both say they can see it. It’s not just me. It’s so faint though. I decide not to get too excited and wait to take another test tomorrow. The next day I am feeling just as nauseous, tired and bloated. Work was long. And I have an overwhelming feeling to cry every second. I went home and peed on another stick – just to be sure, right? Nothing. Negative. My heart broke. I am not going to lie I took a couple more tests. Tests are your best and worst enemy. Someone should have stopped me. I was doing my own head in and spent so much money on disappointment. After another long week at work with nothing but sadness and negative thoughts. This is so much harder than everyone tells you. I am not sure I was prepared for this physically, mentally, or emotionally. Round 2 Blood test day. Flooded with emotion I go In and make small talk with the nurse. She is lovely. All the nurses have all been so lovely. Tears stream down my face. She looks sad for me. I think about how many women she has probably seen cry. She asks me if she thinks my period is due. I said ‘‘Yeah. I think it’s coming today.’’ She sighs, pulls out the needle and says sorry. I can’t even imagine what the nurses see every day. Before I even get the call to tell me I am not pregnant, I get my period and I can’t control the emotions. How do women do this repeatedly? Where does the strength, the hope, the courage come from? I’m struggling to understand. I’m sad it didn’t work. I’m sad this was for nothing. I’m sad I have just lost that amount of money again. I am sad I must do needles and put my mind and body through this again. I am…. sad. Stay tuned for Part 2 launching Tuesday, 14th December.

ometimes, the best advice comes from those who have walked the same path. There’s a strong sense of understanding, and an immediate bond that’s felt when someone understands your feelings, purely from their own experience. This is why we’re launching “In Your Words” a place where you can offer advice, give support, share your feelings and frustrations – all in the hope that you’ll help someone else who is experiencing and feeling the same thing. In Your Words, Amy. PART 2. My journey to have a baby. The Big Guns – IVF After IUI failed to deliver a baby, I head back to my doctor the next month and for the next hour and a half the Doctor tells me she is ‘bringing out the big Guns’ and we are heading into IVF. She explains the process and procedure and asks if I’m ready. I’m ready!! I wait 3 weeks and I am then headed back to the hospital for the IVF Orientation. This time I have more needles and higher injections and hormones, let’s go! As quick as my cycle comes back around so does night one of the needles. My brother-in-law is up again. What a champ! Third time around and apart from a fractured finger, he is a pro at this now. The first needle is in, and it hurts. Over the next 9 days it is much the same. There is a second needle thrown in on day three. That needle is not fun and hurts like a bitch! I instantly regain the tiredness, bloating and emotions. More blood tests and scans to see how we are tracking throughout the week. The follicles are growing nicely this time – I have several growing at a quick rate which is great! On day 9 the nurse calls with good news. It’s trigger time! This means in 36 hours I will have my very first egg collection. I feel excited, nervous, and scared all at once. The frustrating news – my hormones have played up on me which means they won’t be doing the transfer this month. They will freeze any embryo’s I get until the following month. I now patiently wait the 36 hours until the egg collection. Today’s the day – egg collection day! Let’s hope it’s an ‘eggcellent’ result my sister says. I’m nervous. It’s early. Mum and dad are here with me. My dad as usual is making too many of his random jokes for this time of the morning. Not too long after a nurse comes and takes me downstairs in lift. I give the parentals a hug and kiss goodbye. Last words… come-on eight follicles as per Monday’s scan. Give me eight eggs!!! I walked down to the operating theatre with the anaesthetist. As we walked into the room it looked like something off Greys Anatomy. I’m instructed to climb up on the bed from a nurse and as I do I see my Doctor in the corner. As I lay down a flood of realism washes over me and tears start streaming down my face. I can’t hide it. The anaesthetist is starting to put needles in, and the nurse is setting up the leg stilts on the table. It was then I realized I was going to be in full view of everyone! Then just like that… I was out. I wake up in a daze. I’m trying to open my eyes as I hear the nurse saying my name. Bang almost instantly I feel nauseous. The nurse asks my pain level. Oh, the cramping is insane! She politely injects me with something nice that makes me close my eyes again. I flutter my eyes open, and she asks again if I’m ok. I tell her I feel sick. She gives me something for the nausea. My eyes close again. Then my mind wanders back to the doctor telling me “look at your hand. They will put a sticker there to let you know how many eggs they retrieved”. I try to open my eyes. I raise my right hand… nothing. I raise my left hand! I see a sticker!! 7! I think that’s 7? I ask the nurse “does that say 7?” She says yes, and I close my eyes again. Later that day when I am home and recovering, the lab calls. 7 eggs collected and 6 fertilized (my lucky number is six!). This is an amazing result I am told, and all the fertilized eggs look in good shape! I feel a huge sense of relief. The lab calls every day for the next 4 days to tell me the 6 fertilized eggs are still coming along nicely. At the 5 day mark they call and tell me that I have 3 embryos! I was hoping for one, but 3 is amazing! Now all I need to do is wait (again) for next month’s cycle to do the first transfer with Embryo #1! Let’s get pregnant! – 1ST Transfer Today’s the day. Today I have the first transfer. Today I have a 5-day old embryo put inside me. Today I could be pregnant. Today is the first time this has felt like this could really happen. Today I feel like this could make all those other try’s, all this time waiting, worth it. Today I will keep it together. It’s just me and this embryo. Today we can do it together. I am feeling anxious as I arrive at the IVF clinic alone. Unfortunately, we are back in a lockdown due to covid in NSW. An older gentleman doctor comes to meet me and takes me to ‘the back’. We go into a small room with one bed a monitor and a side room. Out from the side room comes what looks like another doctor from the lab. She says hi. The doctor tells me to get undressed and get on the bed. Then, the screen pops on and, on the screen, zoomed in to what must have been a million times, is my little embryo. Wow. This is surreal and amazing!!!! I can’t believe what I am seeing. Absolutely amazing. Then a few minutes later and the procedure was done. Am I technically ‘pregnant’ Shit! For the next week and a half, I try to go about my business as ‘normal’ as possible. Physically I had a few cramps but generally felt fine. Mentally and emotionally, it was a nightmare. I think I underestimated completely what all of this would really do to me. My period hadn’t come so after feeling a bit off I thought why not? Let’s do a test. I have no self-control. So, I take a test. Negative. Still no period and a crazy crampy sick feeling in my stomach. Could be the anxiety. A week and a half later I am back for the blood test. The one where hoping, and fingers crossed the nurses call me back this afternoon with the best news I’ve ever heard. This could be the most nerve-racking blood test I’ve had. I feel sick this morning. There’s still no sign of my period. Even though I have done an at home test (which said negative) I am still hopeful. The test is done and I endure the long wait for the phone call. I am positive the answer is positive. I have not got my period still that has to be a good sign. Right? Even with a negative test. Right? Then the phone rings. ‘Hi Amy…’ she says in a sombre tone. ‘It’s not good news I’m afraid… the pregnancy test was negative.’ My heart shatters. My eyes well up and I’m holding back a thousand tears as I speak to the nurse. I am in pain. Fuck this. I’m over it. To keep hearing no, is like actual pain. I ring my parents and cry so hard they are left speechless. I go to bed and cry. I fall asleep hoping this is all a bad dream. I knew this entire process was going to be hard. I knew it was going to be taxing – mentally, physically, and emotionally. But nothing can prepare you for the loss, the sadness, the tiredness, and the feeling that your body is not doing the one thing is it designed to do. Again, I think about all the women who have done this more than three times. More than 5 months. I take my hat off to them. The strength to keep going. The fear that is never ending and the real pain that is endured. But I get it. You go again. You try again. You say to yourself “the next time it will work, it has too!”. And with that… I decided to move ahead for the next month with the second of my 3 embryos. Lucky fourth time. C’mon. This must work. Let’s get pregnant… again! – 2nd Transfer Today’s the day. Today I have my second transfer. Today I have a frozen and thawed embryo put inside me, again. Today I could be pregnant, again. Today I have a little less hope that this could really happen. Today I feel like this will be the same result as every other try. Today I will keep it together though, for me and my embryo. Today we can do it together. My doctor is doing the transfer today and I feel relieved. Much the same as before I head to a small room and get undressed and onto the table. The doctor makes small talk and then the other doctor says she’s ready with the embryo. On the screen they zoom in and show me the embryo. It’s so tiny. The doctor said it looks identical to what it did when it was frozen. (a good sign) 10mins later it’s all done! I head home again and begin the wait. This time I expect it not to work. I start thinking “this is it. I will forever get negative tests. This is how the story goes for me”. It’s hard to juggle getting excited with so many negative thoughts. A couple days pass and I tell myself I am not going to take any at home tests. I cannot stand the disappointment. But let’s be honest. That was not going to happen. The following day I take my first test. I take the test like the five hundred times before and I sit and wait for the disappointment to set in. I expect to see a negative result. But, wait! What is that? Is that a line. I cry and put on my glasses to be sure. It can’t be. It’s probably false again. I try not to get my hopes up and think I will just take another one tomorrow. The next day I take another test in the morning and then again at night. Still getting lines. They come up instantly. This can’t be. Is this really happening? I keep going back all day to check again on the test. Can I still see it? Yep, the line was still there. Shit! Is someone pranking me? Have I willed this so much to not work, that it’s done the opposite and actually worked? The following day, I go to the shops to buy a digital test. Surely this will tell me. I go all the way to Woolies with anxiety taking over my whole body. I get home and I couldn’t pee fast enough. With the other tests the lines came up almost instantly. This digital test takes the recommended 3 minutes wait time… I wait… I wait… then… POSITIVE. PREGANANT. 1-2 WEEKS! OMG. I go next door to see my sister and brother-in-law. I’m crying, but this time not with disappointment and sadness. I hand the test to my sister and said ‘’I think I’m pregnant’’. My sister cried I decided to call my parents to surprise them with the news! They couldn’t believe it. They were so happy. This had been the moment I had waited for, for a long time! Now all I had to do is get confirmation with the blood test. Then, after a couple of days wait, the blood test came around. This was going to confirm it all. This must be good news. This must be a better phone call then the rest. I am 100% certain I am pregnant this time. The tests told me so. I feel it in every piece of my body and mind. This was it. I get the call from the nurses… it’s GREAT news. POSITIVE. I AM PREGNANT! I cry again, this time with more happy tears then all the sad tears combined. I am in shock. It can’t be true. Am I dreaming? A couple of days later and getting over the initial shock I tell the rest of my family. They are so excited! The following week, I have another blood test. Officially 5 weeks 2 days. This still seems unbelievable. Over the next several weeks while still coming to terms with the fact I am actually pregnant and the weight I am putting on is not all from lockdown, I start to get a little more excited each day. It’s one thing to try and get pregnant, but then the feelings you have once you are, trying to make sure it holds. Wow. That is a whole different type of fear. Lucky most of my first 12 weeks were in lockdown. I had my first scan at 7 weeks, my second at 11 and my third at 13 weeks. Even seeing this little baby with a heartbeat on a screen, I still could not believe it was me. This baby was mine. I start to tell work and close friends as were emerge from lockdown and I graciously pass the first 12 weeks. I start to watch my body change each day all while managing the nausea and tiredness. I wait for my gender reveal. My sister has known since week eleven. I needed the surprise. When you go through what I have been through everything is very planned and calculated. I feel like it is a boy for sure. But it doesn’t matter. If this is the one baby I have I just want it to be happy and healthy. When I look back to the thoughts of wanting and having a baby, nothing prepared me for all of this. The thought it would just be easy. It’s not. The thought that things would move fast. They don’t. The thought that this was a happy and exciting process. think again. Although the very end result is exciting, the overwhelming anxiety for every step of the way before that is a journey in itself. I heard one woman say on a documentary, that all of this is worth it, only if you get a baby. I started drafting this story when I was thirty-five. I am now thirty-eight. I will also continue to write this story for the baby as it grows so they can one day read it, look back and know that fairy tales do come true! 3 years I had a plan. This has been a dream. This has been a miracle waiting to happen. It’s here. Am I ready? I have to be now. My life has changed for ever. My hopes, my need to be a mother, is here. That bright white of a dream is here. I get my turn at being the best mum I can be to a beautiful baby. I am already so in love. This baby will know every day how much it was wanted. This baby will read this story, watch my videos of every injection, and know how special they are. I will now keep this baby safe. I will nurture and care for it. I will talk to it and thank it every day for choosing me. Until we meet baby girl, I love you. Love Mummy xxx

Sometimes, the best advice and support comes from those who have walked the same path. There’s a strong sense of understanding, and an immediate bond that’s felt when someone understands your feelings, purely from their own experience. This is why we launched “In Your Words” a place where you can offer advice, give support, share your feelings and frustrations – all in the hope that you’ll help someone else who is experiencing and feeling the same thing. This article discusses loss. Please make sure you’re feeling mentally strong when reading this. While it’s a very difficult read, you will fall in love with Anita. She is one very incredible woman. In Your Words, Anita. PART 1. How it all began. My story starts almost five years ago when that buzz of excitement and nerves took over my entire body as I looked at the two lines on a pregnancy test and shared the news with my husband, Dean. I had an 8-year-old from a previous marriage and my husband no children of his own, so we had a desire to complete our family. Immediately I went into planning mode, and just as immediately I went into doubt mode. “holy sh*t, how am I going to do this new-born thing again after so long?!” But that doubt soon faded and the sheer excitement took over. Sorry, there’s no heartbeat It was not meant to be. At the second scan we were confronted with the “sorry there is no heartbeat” scenario. Never being in this situation before, as my previous miscarriage during my first marriage happened naturally, I felt confused and scared. My immediate thought was that I just wanted it out of my body as sadness and shame took over. How could I carry something that wasn’t alive within me for two weeks without knowing? How could I not know I was no longer pregnant? Organising everything with my Obstetrician I was in surgery the following day for a D&C. It was simple enough as I was early on, but this was the start of both the emotional and physical scars that shape who I am today. We grieved, but in my usual way; I was taking comfort in knowing we would try again. And a couple months later we tried and sure enough after peeing on a stick we had a positive pregnancy test. Then during the next few weeks I had a number of haemorrhages – I would go the bathroom and be bleeding, episodes both at home and when I was out somewhere, and every morning I’d wake wondering if I was going to miscarry that day. But the early scan indicated all was ok, until the second scan, where the heartbeat was very slow. It was inevitable that I would miscarry, we just didn’t know when. I had to go back out into the world after that scan and get on with my life knowing that my little one inside me was slowly losing theirs. And a couple of months after that positive pee on the stick, I was confronted with the exact same scenario at the exact same number of weeks and days: “sorry there is no heartbeat” and so back to surgery for another D&C. I was numb, confused and felt awful. Just awful and utterly alone. How could this happen, twice, in exactly the same way? I never thought I would need to do IVF We were able to test the ‘products’ (can you believe that is what they call it?) and it appeared that both pregnancies resulted in chromosome abnormalities, in fact the same chromosome abnormality both times. Given my age and the tick-tick-tick of that damn biological clock women are faced with, we took the recommendation to undergo IVF. One round done and one embryo transfer later, I was given one of the many terms I would learn in the world of IVF, the two week wait (or ‘2ww’ as it is so eloquently abbreviated). The blood test 2 weeks later revealed I was pregnant, and although my close friends and family were ecstatic, I was holding my breath because I had been here before. Pregnant. Somehow falling pregnant was the easy part for me. There is a different type of ‘holding your breath’ during a pregnancy when you have suffered loss in the past. Every twinge you question, every time you go to the toilet you wonder if you will see blood, every scan you wait for the sonographer’s facial expression. Constant holding of breath. I held my breath for close to 14 weeks until the anatomy scan where we were told that there were some significant things wrong with our baby which meant the chances of going term were slim to none, and the chances of the baby surviving were none to none. How could this be happening? Completely emotionless, I sat there as my husband held my hand. Every scan up until this point was perfect. How could this be happening? I am not quite sure what unfolded next but it involved needing to organise a termination the following day. After everything, I now had to say goodbye to my little one and set their spirit free, but I was responsible for this – it wasn’t a miscarriage, it was a termination. How surreal and unfair and utterly sh*t this was. When I had a moment between all the tears, I had the painstaking job of telling my son in the best way I could manage what was happening. He didn’t need the details, just that the baby wasn’t healthy and we needed to say goodbye. For him, it was more about seeing his Mum so upset that really got to him more than anything else. And seeing his concern for me broke my heart even more. It is 4 February 2019, a date forever carved in my mind and forever with me. Before heading off to surgery I said goodbye to my son and then to my husband, saying “we have been here before, we will grieve and try again”, but it felt different. There was a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t quite place and even though I had been here a few times before, going for a D&C, it was unnerving. Fast forward to me laying on the table, eyes heavy from the general anaesthetic kicking in, I look at my obstetrician and feel compelled to say, “look after me” just before I fall asleep. Just when you think you’ve endured the worst Darkness, confusion, unable to open my eyes properly and unable to speak because there are tubes down my throat, I feel Dean’s hand holding mine and can hear a lot of talking but my eyes seem to be fused shut. Then I hear my obstetrician’s voice “I’m so sorry Anita, we had to take your uterus”. Did I just hear that? Am I dreaming? What is actually happening? I feel like I am under water in the dark, shackles around my ankles, unable to move or come up to the surface. Immediately I think of my son and wonder where he is and if he is ok, was he picked up from school, where was he? Dean clearly senses this and says, “He is fine, don’t worry, he’s being looked after”. I drift back to sleep. I wake up in darkness, no idea what time it is, still confused, still with tubes down my throat. Laying there in what I would come to realise is ICU, with a nurse sitting at the end of my bed. All I feel like doing is ripping out the tubes down my throat. I cant breathe, I feel like I am suffocating, I am scared, confused and I have no idea what is going on or what happened. I signal for a pen and paper and manage to scribble “what happened to me?” to which the nurse says, the Dr will tell me in the morning. The next morning, I listen as I am told that my 40-minute surgery turned into a 7 hour ordeal. That I bled out and the surgeons could not stop the bleeding. Regardless of all the interventions and the specialists on site being called into my surgery, I just continued to bleed, losing 4 litres of blood (when my blood volume is 5 litres). With my body starting to shut down my husband and my Dr had to make the decision that would ultimately save my life. There was no choice but to do an emergency hysterectomy which left me with nothing but my ovaries. The reason was confirmed the following day, I had placenta percreta, a rare condition where the placenta grows through your uterus. So as soon as the placenta was taken, it left all all the open blood vessels in and around my uterus. I was “lucky” though. Had the pregnancy progressed we would have had no idea of what was happening as this condition doesn’t show up on scans. The placenta would have started fusing to my other organs like my bladder and liver and with the Doctors saying I would have most certainly have bled out in an uncontrolled environment, I knew I would have ultimately lost my life. My baby saved me. I have absolutely no doubt. Doing what needed to be done to terminate the pregnancy early to save my life. My little angel became my little hero…. PART 2 coming Tuesday 18th January, 2022.

Sometimes, the best advice and support comes from those who have walked the same path. There’s a strong sense of understanding, and an immediate bond that’s felt when someone understands your feelings, purely from their own experience. This is why we launched “In Your Words” a place where you can offer advice, give support, share your feelings and frustrations – all in the hope that you’ll help someone else who is experiencing and feeling the same thing. This article discusses loss. Please make sure you’re feeling mentally strong when reading this. While it’s a very difficult read, you will fall in love with Anita, and I am sure you will gain from her experience here. She is one very incredible woman. In Your Words, Anita. PART 2. Plan C (or are we up to Plan Z?!) I found while still in hospital that the raw sadness of what had happened was met with some sort of relief. I felt relieved that I wouldn’t need to go through the horrendous experience of miscarriages again. The constant stress, the worry, the doubts, the heartache. Suddenly, the decision of not being able to fall pregnant was taken out of my hands. However, I am a control freak – at work, at home, and in life – I need to be in total control of the situation. So, for someone like me who typically sets a goal and goes about achieving it, this situation completely threw me. I no longer was in control of something I thought (naively) would just come easily. It has taken so much work and time for me to understand and appreciate that being in control of everything is a complete myth. So, I focused on what I could control, the next step in this journey. And guess what that meant, Plan C. While still in hospital and yet again with the blinkers on, my whole world became researching and understanding surrogacy. From joining forums to understanding how it works within Australia and across the globe, my mission was to jump into this next part of our journey with a renewed energy focused towards surrogacy. Rightly or wrongly, this next chapter gave me a distraction from the past trauma. It wasn’t just emotional recovery this time Arriving back at home after a week in hospital, I was confronted with a 6-week recovery which meant that I had to learn to, (not just metaphorically and emotionally this time), get up and learn to walk again. You see the surgery left me with no strength particularly around my stomach and meant I needed a lot of help at first to do the simplest of things like get out of bed. Being so fit and healthy, this was a new struggle I was faced with. When the DRs said 6 weeks, boy did they mean it! And what an incredibly hard six weeks it was. It was dark and lonely and reflecting back on it now, I actually don’t know how I got through it. That period was completely isolating, and I felt stuck in quick-sand while the entire world kept moving forward. Although I had friends and family visit, and Netflix at my disposal, I was on my own at home mostly during the day, with my thoughts, but also with a determination that I would get through this and move onto the next chapter of my story. I finally understand what grace is In my own time I finally realised that to be vulnerable is to be strong. I thought strength was in the resilience I had shown time and time again. But it is also letting your guard down and getting out of your comfort zone. For me, that meant sharing our story publicly on social media. So I did just that – I wanted to control the dialogue (see, told you I am a control freak!) and I wanted friends, family and the wider community to hear in my words what had happened and what we were doing next – looking for a surrogate. And with that vulnerability came such an outpouring of support that it literally left me speechless (something my husband will tell you is a very hard task). After communication with a number of women, there was one that I found an immediate connection to, and after spending time with her and her partner, we all came to a decision that we would embark on a surrogacy journey together. To find grace, true grace, is something that is indescribable, but I finally understood what grace is. I have found it in the patience I have had to find and learn over the last 5 years, I have found it in surrendering and understanding so much is out of my control and I have found it mostly in the amazing woman who is completely selfless in wanting to give me and my husband the opportunity to have a baby, when I have the inability to physically do it myself. I feel grace every day in the little moments where I am grateful for all that I have rather than focus on what I don’t have. I thought finding a surrogate would be the hard part When we ventured down this path, my husband and I talked at length about how difficult it was going to be to find a surrogate. We talked about me reading on the forums about women searching for 10 years and still not able to find someone. We talked about seeing the demand for a surrogate far out way the number of surrogates. So, we made a decision that we would give ourselves a certain number of years to find someone then call it a day. But to our absolute surprise we found our surrogate within a couple of months of searching. By the time we did, we had a few frozen embryos as I did multiple rounds of IVF when I could, to ensure we had some ready to go. We went through the entire process during the 2020 lockdown – legal agreements, 9 hours of intense counselling and everything in between. The ability to find the process so easy was down to not only our surrogate and her partner being some of the best humans on earth, but that the four of us were connected in a way that we were always all on the same page. I thought finding a surrogate and the entire surrogacy process would be the hard part…..damn I hate it when I am wrong! Gee, the universe can be cruel As I write this, we have now had three frozen embryo transfers to our surrogate without success over a period of about 12 months. I cannot explain the emotional rollercoaster going from the hope that comes from believing that no matter what you have endured physically and emotionally you will have your baby, to the excitement of finding a surrogate and having this amazing team working together to make a baby, to the heartache and sadness of it still not working. The cruel, cruel, universe that she is – giving me this amazing selfless woman, and still not being able to make our dreams a reality. The fat lady isn’t singing…..yet We have one more frozen embryo. One more shot. So the fat lady is standing there on the stage but she ain't singing yet. Knowing when to draw a line in the sand It’s the latter half of 2021 and after a lot of talking it out, we have made the decision that I won’t do any more IVF. My beautiful husband says it is my call. But it is our call. We are a team. The sad reality is that now given my age, the chances of a viable embryo and successful transfer gets lower with each passing few months. I could physically do another 10 rounds of IVF, the process never bothered me, it is the mental and emotional load, that even for someone as strong and resilient as myself that takes its toll. It is all consuming and relentless and I need to start moving to a place of acceptance and learn to let go. There is often the tension between head and heart when making this sort of decision. Head says stop, heart says keep going. When my head and heart started saying the same thing, I knew it was time to start letting go. I don’t know how to start getting to that destination, but I know it is the path in front of me and I need to walk it. One embryo left – we haven’t had success yet, so although we still have hope, because that is all we have, we are very realistic that our chance to have a baby is very slim. Our surrogate had some surgery to ensure that her uterus was still ok, not only from our procedures but from a termination she went through after falling pregnant herself during this process (you couldn’t make this sh*t up I tell you!) Anything that could have happened on this journey, has. And just like that… For those Sex and The City fans, the recent release of the next chapter ‘And Just Like That’ may sound familiar. But for me, “and just like that” means the end. Three weeks ago, in the early morning of a day in late November 2021 (the day we were to receive the pregnancy blood test results), I received a text message from my surrogate saying that she got her period the night before. She didn’t have the heart to tell me that night, for she needed to deal with this and process it in her own way, which I completely understood. This was an incredibly heavy load on her too. But, “just like that” it was the end of our journey. It was the end of 5 years of going to hell and back to have a baby. But not everyone gets their rainbow baby. You see there is a side to infertility that is rarely told, a side that doesn’t end with the “happy ending” of a rainbow baby that most stories do. A side that needs more of a voice and needs to be told. A side that finds you in a situation where you need to start finding joy and happiness that isn’t in a form of a baby. As you have read, it has been a long, complicated 5-year journey (and this is the short version!) but I need to point to out: We did not fail. We have given it absolutely everything we could. We did not give up. We are letting go. There is more strength sometimes is letting go and knowing when to draw a line in the sand than to keep fighting a battle you just won’t win. We are not wanting a pity party. We are being open and raw and honest so we can tell our story, give it a voice and let others in a similar situation know that you aren’t alone. I can do 10 more rounds of IVF, physically the IVF process never really overwhelmed me, it is everything else that comes with this journey. Am I ashamed? Hell no. I learnt a while ago that this, infertility, is nothing to be ashamed of. Am I grieving? Yes. So much. I am grieving the loss of the hopes and dreams we had. Of not having any of “the firsts” together. Of things like not being able to sit in bed and read to him/her at bedtime. At not being able to use the name we picked out. At not being able to use the clothes and toys I have had packed away in the attic. Am I carrying guilt? More than you can imagine. Not being able to give my husband a biological child is something so heavy that sits on my shoulder and not something that will ever fade unfortunately. Am I angry. F*ck yes. This is completely unfair. To go through hell and back, almost die, find an amazing woman to be my surrogate and still not be able to have a baby. What a cruel trick the universe has played. But, I am more determined than ever to help other women who are struggling with infertility, dealing with IVF and trying to cope with miscarriage. I am more determined than ever to have our feelings validated and worthy of a voice. Maybe I had to go what I had to go through to do help others, who knows. But this next chapter will be one of healing and giving. There is so much I want to do. I have friends who are pregnant or have just had a baby and they don’t need to walk on eggshells but they do know that I may be distant sometimes. I may not come to the gender reveal, the baby shower, I may not look at things on social media. I have said don’t be angry and don’t judge because I am so over the moon happy for them, I just need to look after my mental health and sometimes that takes the form of stepping back from triggers. My support crew was amazing (they know who they are). They may not have been able to empathise or understand exactly what I was going through, because it is impossible unless you are walking these shoes, but they leaned in and held my hand, they accepted me for who I was the last 5 years, my Jekyll & Hyde personality, and they didn’t judge. I’ve lost some friends along away and that’s ok. I have met some amazing women I have interviewed on my podcast so far, most of who I now call dear friends. They mean the world to me. And of course the 2 amazing people who came into our lives because of this journey, my surrogate and her partner, they saved me in more ways than one. I am not going to go into detail here about them – some things are private. We have our own way, “Team Thompson” of holding each other and the love we have – well, we are family no matter what. So now I need to find out who I am. I am not the person I was before the trauma, I will never be her again. And I am not the person who had infertility and IVF and miscarriage following her like a shadow anymore. So, who am I? I don’t know but it is scary and exciting and empowering to start finding out. We have one life to live and we are going to do just that. Everyone gets their happy ending, but for me it isn’t a rainbow baby. There is joy after infertility. And there is happiness after not being able to have your baby. I am still a work in progress and there are still very, very, dark days. Days where I am angry, days where I don’t want to get up and days I just cry. But if I can get to where I am after everything, you can too. It is hard to find the sun behind the clouds, but I am finding it in little ways each day. So just as the sun rises each day (even behind the clouds) you will rise too. Anita x Anita has kindly offered to answer questions on her journey in The Amber Networks (first) Instagram live coming soon! Follow us on Instagram to find out when. Please also follow her on Instagram – @heartache_2_hope

Words From…. A Psychologist. Written by Anthea Kissel, Principal Psychologist Miro Psychology. Why seek professional help when undergoing fertility treatment? It’s common for people to feel apprehensive about seeking out the support of a psychologist. Some may be nervous about what to expect, whilst others might wonder if their concerns are significant enough to warrant therapy. For those having fertility treatments, there is often such a heavy focus on the medical process that an individual’s mental health and wellbeing may take a backseat despite their best efforts. Given the emotional, physical, and financial toll of IVF, this could be a missed opportunity to ease some of the burden of a taxing process. Have a read below of five good reasons to consider prioritising your mental health whilst receiving fertility treatment. 1. A safe place to explore and process difficult emotions The therapy environment provides a safe and supportive space for you to reflect upon and process the broad range of emotions that are typically associated with the IVF journey. One of the main goals for psychologists is to provide an environment where people can feel heard and have their experience normalised and validated. Whilst friends and loved ones often seek to provide this for us, it can be difficult for those most close to us to know how best to respond. Many people may also struggle to be fully open and honest with their loved ones out of concern for adding to their worry. Having your own non-judgmental space to make sense of your experience can significantly improve resilience and coping. 2. Learn evidence-based skills and strategies you can use everyday Many people receiving fertility treatments, particularly those who are typically high functioning individuals, may attempt to just ‘muddle through’ as they typically have done for other stressful periods of life. Others may find themselves very rapidly feeling overwhelmed and destabilised in response to the stress and unknowns associated with IVF. Seeing a psychologist can be highly beneficial regardless of the severity of your distress. Therapists are well trained to provide evidence-based interventions in line with the nature of your difficulties. Expect to learn skills around managing distress, adopting adaptive behaviours, improving daily functioning, and finding helpful ways of responding to unhelpful thinking. Psychologist’s tailor these interventions based on your goals so you can be sure the sessions are leading to lasting change. 3. Help with decision making and finding solutions Many people going through IVF can feel lost in a process that feels never-ending. Fertility treatment commonly involves medical assessment, treatment planning, undergoing various procedures, additional medical exploration, the formulation of new treatment plans, more procedures, and throughout this process difficult decisions around these factors and how to fund them! Often these decisions are highly stressful due to the significant emotional, financial, and physical toll involved each step of the way. For couples going through fertility treatment this can be particularly difficult when one partner takes a different viewpoint to the other. Whilst psychologists can’t make decisions for you, they can help you to make sense of the current dilemma, to formulate possible solutions, to weigh decisions based upon values and goals, and for couples to reach a much sought-after compromise. 4. Fertility treatments may exacerbate pre-existing difficulties The stressful and anxiety provoking nature of the IVF process can exacerbate prior mental health concerns such as depression, anxiety, grief, trauma, and problematic dynamics in relationships. This may be particularly true for those who have experienced pregnancy or baby loss prior to commencing fertility treatments. For those with a history of mental health difficulties, it can be helpful to engage the support of a psychologist as you are embarking on the process to ensure your coping strategies or pharmacological interventions are working well before commencing. Having the support of a psychologist throughout the process also provides that monitoring and support should you need it at any stage. Ensuring you’re managing your mental health and wellbeing as best you can throughout the IVF process can become a protective factor and reduce the potential for difficulties in the post-natal period. 5. Because it can’t just be all about IVF It’s very common for those undergoing IVF to report feeling fertility treatments have taken over their lives. Many report a loss of sense of self. It is very easy for IVF to become the sole focus due the time intensive nature of the process and the high stakes involved. Seeing a psychologist will support you to make room for yourself and your emotional experience amidst a significantly draining process. Most importantly it will allow for reflection and discussion around ways that you can continue to make space for the other parts of life that are enriching and help to maintain a sense of identity. This may include values-based reflection, goal setting, or creating self-care rituals. Anthea Kissel is an AHPRA Registered Psychologist and the Principal Psychologist of Miro Psychology. She has a special interest in supporting individuals and couples experiencing infertility, undergoing fertility treatment, and those who have experienced pregnancy and baby loss. Anthea can be contacted at anthea@miropsychology.com.au **The above information is general in nature only. The author encourages people to seek out their own mental health practitioner for advice specific to their situation.**

Sometimes, the best advice comes from those who have walked the same path. There’s a strong sense of understanding, and an immediate bond that’s felt when someone understands your feelings, purely from their own experience. This is why we’re launching “In Your Words” a place where you can offer advice, give support, share your feelings and frustrations – all in the hope that you’ll help someone else who is experiencing and feeling the same thing. In Your Words, Lauren. My story spans 8 years. Eight years of love, loss, loneliness, perseverance, and self-discovery. I always knew I’d be a mother someday. I felt it in my bones. So, when my husband and I had been married for nearly 2 years we decided the time was right to start trying for a baby. I remember telling my mum excitedly that we were going to start trying and I said, “I bet it’ll happen quickly, I know exactly when I ovulate, my cycles are so regular”, so when it didn’t happen after our first try I was shocked and confused. We tried repeatedly for the rest of the year and sadly didn’t fall pregnant once. So I went to visit my GP who told me I’m still young (30) but did a AMH level test anyway and gave me a referral to an IVF specialist for further advice. Thankfully my AMH was average for my age. Our first visit to an IVF specialist was rather casual, he told us we were young and to go and enjoy the summer and “see what happens”, “come back in 6 months”. After more trying and not succeeding, we decided to visit a public IVF clinic who did a range of blood tests including chromosome karyotyping. We’d never heard of this before so when I got a phone call a week or so later to let me know that my husband has a balanced translocation on chromosomes 1:19 we were shocked, scared, and didn’t know what this meant for the future. We took this information back to the first IVF specialist. He was shocked, and said this test is not normally included as part of the screening process as it costs a lot, however he said he then wanted to screen his next 100 patients because of this. He suggested we try a round of IVF and see how we go. After almost 2 years of trying naturally we started our first cycle of IVF in Feb 2015. The injections weren’t a problem for me because I’m a nurse and not at all fazed by needles! However, all the blood tests were tiring, and internal ultrasounds were invasive making the whole experience exhausting. For the first egg retrieval I got 9 eggs which I thought was amazing. Waiting for those 5 days while your embryos split and grow is like nothing else. I’ve never felt anxiety like that before – waiting for every phone call with news on how our embryos were going. To our delight we got 1 embryo that looked good enough to transfer on day 5. So away we went back to the clinic for our first transfer. We were so full of confidence that this was our little babe about to be transferred directly into my uterus and boom! I’d be pregnant. Two weeks later on the day my period would be due, I had some pretty bad cramping early in the morning when my husband got up and left for work. Then suddenly our smoke detector went off! Such loud screeching scared the pants off me and it was like a sign from God, because literally while I was pulling the smoke detector from the ceiling blood started flowing heavily. My blood test showed that I had a chemical pregnancy. I was absolutely devastated. A few months later when we felt emotionally ready, we decided to see a different IVF Doctor within the same clinic who specialises in genetics as we thought this was the best way forward. And we visited a geneticist who gave us advice and info about the translocation. It basically means my husband is perfectly healthy however approx. 70% of his sperm were affected by unbalanced chromosomes which would lead to an abnormal embryo. That’s a pretty big number. Our chances of conceiving a natural healthy pregnancy were low, so IVF was the only way forward. Luckily, we had been given some money from grandparents that meant we could move forward with another cycle. The second and third cycles came and went by pretty quickly, each a few months apart, both unsuccessful with no embryos. Our confidence in believing we were definitely going to have a baby started dwindling. My husband believed it was all his fault and he became depressed. He told me to leave him and go and find another man who can give me children. It broke my heart. I love my husband so much and I told him I would be happy if it was just the two of us for the rest of our lives. Deep down I didn’t believe that though. All I knew was that I wanted to be with my husband and no one else but I also desperately wanted children. At this stage we thought we needed a fresh point of view as our doctor didn’t suit us. So, we changed specialists again, still within the same clinic. I remember feeling so guilty for getting yet another opinion. But in hindsight I would get as many second opinions as I could until we were all out of options. We are paying shitloads of money for this, and we so desperately want a child, surely there is someone who will take a different path and help us succeed! Our new specialist was so empathetic which was what we needed at that stage but also changed the drugs I was on and planned to do PGT (preimplantation genetic testing) on any embryos we got. I had another AMH level to see what my eggs were up to and shockingly my level had dropped dramatically. However, we felt rather confident going into our next round with a new specialist. Our 4th cycle gave us no result. Another blow. Our 5th cycle however went surprisingly well. We got 2 embryos which were both genetically tested so then had to be frozen because the results take 10 working days. The long agonising wait began, but I tried so hard to be positive. I always had my phone in my pocket on loud so I wouldn’t miss an important phone call, but it’s pretty difficult when I’m a nurse and working with patients all day so that made me even more anxious. We had our family over for dinner when we got the call from my specialist, she had a sad tone to her voice, and I knew right away the news wasn’t good. She told me both embryos were abnormal. The rest was a blur, I wanted to get off the phone right away. As soon as I hung up, I burst into tears and cried the biggest, loudest, deepest tears I’ve ever cried in my whole life. I was actually wailing. I have never ever felt a pain like that. So much loss and devastation after everything we had been through, I really thought this was it this time! I then had to go downstairs and face my family. They didn’t know what to say. No one ever knew what to say really. I’m not sure what would have made me feel any better at that time anyway. Our efforts at having a baby stopped at this stage. We were absolutely broken. I wasn’t sure if I could do another round. So much emotional energy goes into each cycle, it’s not just the physical pain and discomfort, its soul destroying when it doesn’t work out. Plus, you think about all the money wasted to get no result. All the while over the years we never stopped trying naturally either, which was also draining as you can imagine. The excitement of having sex with my husband waned as it become a chore at the right time each month. My energy was dead. I felt lifeless. My hope was gone. I didn’t have much support from friends. I didn’t really know anyone who had trouble conceiving like I did. I felt so alone. However luckily for us my husband and I stayed strong. We grew as a couple. We leant on each other for support. And almost a year later we grew enough strength for our 6th IVF cycle. Another one bites the dust as they say. Our single embryo this cycle had an unbalanced translocation. I had to change something. Something had to shift in order to make progress. Was it me? Was it my brain holding us back? Why can’t I just calm down and not worry about my age and truly believe it’s going to happen? At some point on our journey, I started to venture into alternative therapies like acupuncture, reiki, and fertility hypnotherapy. The hypnotherapy was pretty out there, and I only went once but I was always looking for ways to improve my mindset. Acupuncture became my go to adjunct therapy to IVF. Not only does it help with blood flow around female organs, but it’s also so deeply relaxing, I would always fall asleep. It definitely helped with the anxiety I was feeling. I became so desperate for answers I eventually turned to psychics. I saw a Greek coffee cup reader who gave me all the answers I wanted to hear, and I believed everything she said. Before I even sipped my cup of coffee, she said I haven’t fallen pregnant yet because I’m too stressed. It’ll happen by the end of the year and that my lucky number is 7. She said many more things that day that were scarily accurate and she did a Greek blessing for me and off I went. I felt like I was on cloud 9. It gave me real hope! We had 2 further unsuccessful rounds of IVF that year before going on an overseas holiday. While away we saw 7’s everywhere, sounds ridiculous but I believe they were signs something good was coming. We were seated on several planes in row 7, and even stayed in a few hotel rooms that were the number 7. My husband thought I had gone mad, but I believed it all. Then came our 8th IVF cycle, in December 2017. Low and behold I got 7 eggs. I said to my husband, “see! 7 is our lucky number! It’s going to work this time”! I got the call from my doctor at work saying we finally had a genetically normal embryo! I was stunned and hopeful this time that we’d finally get our baby. All our wishes, hopes, and dreams finally came true after 5 years of trying to conceive when we fell pregnant with our genetically healthy embryo. I gave birth to our daughter Ruby who is now 3. I still look at her in amazement every day and thank my lucky stars that she’s here. When Ruby was 4 months old my period came back. I was grateful for this because it meant we could start trying straight away for baby number 2! I didn’t mind if they would be close in age, and I’ve heard so many stories of women falling pregnant naturally after conceiving through IVF. So, we thought we’d give it a shot. To our complete surprise we fell pregnant straight away. Naturally. For the first time ever. Naturally. We couldn’t believe it. We were so excited. My HCG levels were a little low, so I had several blood tests. The levels then rose steadily. And we were so excited for our first scan at 7 weeks. This scan will forever be etched in my memory. I had a gestational sac, but it was empty. No embryo inside. What? How could this be? What does this mean? They made me wait another week for yet another scan to see if the embryo was possibly hiding. Unfortunately, not, still no embryo. But my HcG levels were still rising. I was so confused. My OB who delivered my daughter said the sac was making the hormones rise and that I could opt to have a D&C. I chose that option because I didn’t want to wait it out to see when the pregnancy would end, and I would start bleeding. The tissue sample from the D&C showed the embryo was unbalanced on chromosomes 1:19. This was an incredibly traumatic experience. Sharing the news with close family and friends was hard, I got sympathy texts, but it didn’t feel like enough. I needed more support. I fell pregnant again 5 months later naturally. We were cautious but hopeful. Sitting in the same ultrasound room I was beside myself with nerves. When the sonographer placed the probe on my belly and couldn’t see anything, I knew straight away it was bad news again. Then she said, “let’s just look internally because sometimes the baby can hide”. But I knew it had happened again. I had another D&C and the tissue sample had the same unbalanced chromosomes. We thought about how lucky we were to fall pregnant naturally twice, but we can’t go through this heartbreak again. Let’s go back to our IVF specialist and do another round. We did 1 round, got only 3 eggs, and amazingly got another genetically normal embryo! What a miracle! Our little embie was transferred and I fell pregnant. HCG levels were rising nicely. So, while we were quietly shitting our pants before our first scan, we were confident at the same time because we knew it was a genetically healthy embryo. To our complete shock and horror, our scan with our IVF specialist went horribly wrong. Once again, I had a gestational sac but no embryo!!! What the actual F? I was livid, wildly angry, and upset. How could this happen when it was a PGT embryo? My specialist didn’t have much of an explanation and said it is just chance. That wasn’t good enough for us. We wanted to find out what the hell was going on. She wasn’t willing to do any further testing and suggested another similar round of IVF. Nope, we were not happy with that and off we went to yet another specialist who came highly recommended by my neighbour who happens to be an embryologist. I had read a lot about him. A pioneer in Natural Killer Cells. After a lengthy zoom call (COVID), he suggested testing my NKC count as this is often a cause of repeated miscarriage. He was right. My levels were super high. He told me when we do our next cycle I would go on the infamous “Bondi Protocol”. A combination of Clexane and Prednisone to suppress my immune system and stop my body from fighting a little embryo. Ok, let’s do it. Our cycle produced 3 eggs again, and 2 embryos for testing. Unfortunately, neither was normal. So, I began soul searching again. Looking for answers, seeing more psychics, getting into reiki, and generally becoming more spiritual. I learned to be genuinely happy with life as it was every day and to let go of the desperation I felt for another child. A few months later I began to read a lot about manifestation and started writing a journal. I pictured myself pregnant and believed I was fertile and that I was definitely going to have another baby. I would often burn Palo Santo to cleanse my house and reset my mind. It sounds loopy and I don’t talk about it with everyone because they think I’m some hippy preacher, but I feel as though I found myself and felt confident in a happy future for us. We had booked in another cycle of IVF for October, so we were feeling more positive this time. We were literally on the cusp of starting another round of IVF, I was waiting for my period to arrive so I could call the nurses to get things going but I had this grand imagination that what if I was pregnant and wouldn’t have to do the next round of IVF (the exact way I felt every time right before my period was due). So I decided to take a pee test at home and, guess what? I saw two lines! I broke down in tears of joy. I hugged my dog so tight because she was the only one home and thanked all my angels for this miracle. I am now pregnant with our second healthy baby. The NIPT was low risk and scans are all on track. Amazing news. I’m still in awe that this has happened for us. Some might just call it luck, but I believe mindset is everything. We started our journey to parenthood 8 years ago. I have learnt so much over these 8 years and although most of the time it was lonesome and painful, I’ll be forever grateful for the low times. Because I have grown. But I am most grateful for the 2 miracles I have grown in my belly. Lauren, thank you for sharing your story!