We share the journey of Anna (who asked to be identified by a pseudonym to protect her privacy), her personal reflections about the dark side of IVF, and the message she has to support fellow parents who have struggled through this process.
I V F – seems like just 3 alphabets when put together, promising couples who have reproductive challenges with the hope of bringing a new life into this world. IVF stands for In-Vitro Fertilisation, mostly, the last resort for couples who wish to conceive a child.
While there are more and more couples that go through this, it is not very openly talked about – especially, the dark side of IVF. Did you know that the success rate of a first attempt of IVF is only between 25 to 30%? That percentage is also very likely to drop, the older the women are. However, there is a general understanding that embarking on the IVF journey, almost certainly guarantees a pregnancy. This isn’t quite true, because not many stories of failed journeys are highlighted.
No fairy tale ending
There are many reasons these stories are not highlighted. Perhaps it goes against the notion of “fairy tale endings” that “sell” stories or IVF packages. There’s also an element of shame sometimes, in couples who cannot conceive, blaming themselves or each other. Some do not want pity from others. And let’s not forget the invasive questions, unsolicited advice and people telling you how you feel:
- Try naturally, because I know so-and-so who tried IVF for 5 years and when they stopped trying, they conceived naturally.
- So who is reproductively challenged, you or your husband?
- Go for a long holiday, then try again.
- Who is your Dr? I know so-and-so went to Dr XYZ and got pregnant on the first try and they have twins.
- Did you try acupuncture?
- It must be your diet.
- You didn’t rest enough.
- You were too stressed.
- You’re still young try again.
Most people mean well. Also, bad news always makes people uncomfortable – and perhaps they feel pressured to say something positive. To me, that is bordering on toxic positivity. I think we need to allow people time to process their feelings and acknowledge that they are in a terrible situation. Let them feel heard and seen. Let them know, it is ok to not be ok.
My IVF experience
I am in my late 30s. We already have a child, who is an IUI baby. For many years, we were under the impression, that having another child was just not in the card for us, until, we were told that it was. So, I began to prepare myself. Over the span of a year, I got myself in shape, mainly to lose weight (I lost 12 kgs) since I suffer from PCOS, and ensure my period cycles were regulated. My husband had to prepare himself too, and once his samples were tested, it was time to prepare me for the egg’s extraction process.
The eggs’ extraction process (for me, at least) consisted of oral medication, and injections to my abdominal area. At this point, the number of jabs escape me. Nevertheless, the first few injections I did had no issues (having done this before, when I went through IUI). However, with IVF, it was even more intense. Suffice to say, on the last night, when I had to do two jabs in row into my abdomen, it was so painful. I drew some blood and bit my tongue to fight back tears, so my husband wouldn’t feel bad about the pain I was in.
I can’t even begin to imagine how my husband felt, watching me jab myself, night after night. By the time all my eggs were grown and ready for harvesting, I felt so uncomfortable and bloated. It is hard to describe the discomfort, because with bloating, you know it’s gas, and if you are pregnant, you know there’s a baby. I was truly grateful that I was completely knocked out for the eggs’ retrieval process.
Going on a physical and emotional rollercoaster
We had a good number of eggs, and a decent number of embryos. Due to my age, our doctor advised me to do a scan called the MIRA scan, which entails taking a sample from your uterus (while you are wide awake, with no sedation or pain medication), to determine the best window and time for implantation. So, we said yes. I had to take all the medication and hormones one would take, as if they were going for an embryo implantation. The pain of retrieving the sample was excruciating. I had sleepless nights for weeks remembering the pain.
Of course, I thought the results would just tell us when we could implant. However, I had a very rare result, which indicated that the time the sample was extracted had passed the window. This is when I started to breakdown emotionally. The first thing on my mind was, how painful it was to get the sample. Our options were to just do the embryo transfer (and try our luck), or do another MIRA test to reconfirm the window.
Transferring the embryo
At this point, I just wanted to go home, sleep and not talk to anyone, forever. My husband was distraught to see me distraught. We did not decide immediately, and I am so grateful for a supporting husband who said he would support my decision. Eventually, I decided to go through the ordeal again, and indeed, the window was confirmed.
Next came the embryo transfer. I was excited the first time around. I thought, this is it! It is going to happen for us. The process was not painful (or my pain threshold had increased). But then, the two weeks of waiting was excruciating. I took home pregnancy tests, three times and each time there was only one strip. Eventually, a blood test confirmed that I was not pregnant.
This time, my husband took it the hardest. Even my doctor was upset, as he said we did everything we were supposed to do, but it just did not take. I racked my brain, blamed myself – but the tears did not come this time. I grieved, and it broke my heart to see my husband grieving too. He had a hard time processing this. I think we were at a point of not knowing how to console each other.
A father’s heart
Then, we said, ok let’s try again. This time, I was on guard with my emotions. I prepared even more, and made extra arrangements to rest a lot more. My friends sent me gifts, and checked on me to make sure I kept my feet up and was in bed. My mum cooked extra food and sent it to me, while she and my dad took full charge of our seven-year old. I did not do any home pregnancy tests this time. But the day came, for the blood test. This time my husband collected the results and when I saw the look on his face, the tears came pouring down.
I think that was the most silent car ride we ever had together. The decision after meeting the doctor that day, was for everyone to just take a break. We still have options and more decisions to make, but we decided to put it all on hold. I cried for days when no one was looking. My eyes still fill up with tears, each time I think of it. I keep asking myself, why? What did I do wrong? What could I have done better? My brain tells me that if even the doctors can’t tell me why, then science has not quite caught up. But my emotions are so quick to blame me.
In all this, I’ve had really supportive friends and family members journey through this very difficult time with me. However, I think an area which is quite neglected and not talked about at all, is how the fathers feel in this process. Yes, I call them fathers, because that embryo is theirs too. Usually, there is more emphasis on the women, as we go through the emotional, physical and physiological motions. However, it should in no way trivialise the pain a father feels from a failed IVF, and the emotional torture a husband feels, seeing his wife pricked and prodded; and not being able to make that pain go away for her.
My message to readers
We also had to grapple with the large amount of our savings spent for the entire process, which was well into five figures. We had set aside some funds for the entire process, but we definitely went over the budget, given the extras we did (such as MIRA) to increase our chances. Yes, we are recovering emotionally, at the same time, we still need to get up everyday and do what we do because of the large hole now burnt in our pocket.
So, my simple ask for sharing my story is to please check in on all the dads and husbands who stood by their wives through the gruelling process. Please tell them their feelings are valid, and that their loss is very real too. A failed IVF attempt is a very real loss to parents (yes, parents) because that embryo could have been their baby.
