Infertility sucks, doesn’t it?
I don’t really think that covers it, but there aren’t enough words for how awful infertility is. Anyone who’s been through it (or is currently going through it) will agree with me, I’m sure. It’s like your whole world is turned upside down and something that the everyone around you thinks is easy, suddenly becomes impossible and completely out of your reach.
If I’m honest, my fertility wasn’t something I really thought about very much when I was younger. Does anyone?? I always assumed that I would have children, but I wasn’t in a rush. I first met Mr Becca when I was 18, but we didn’t get together until 3 years later. And then we were just too busy being young and in love and all that jazz. Then Mr Becca went back to Uni and, before we knew it, we were in our late 20s and only just talking about getting married. Yes. He made me wait 6.5 years before popping the question!!
Once we got to that point, my biological clock was ticking like Big Ben.
Suddenly, “one day” became “right now, please!” Poor Mr Becca… he didn’t know what hit him. I “broke the news” over dinner at The Harvester. Can you imagine? He’s tucking into his free salad, completely unaware of the bomb that’s about to go off. “I want to have a baby”. It’s not like we hadn’t talked about it before. We’d actually agreed that we would start a family after I turned 30. I was not 30 when I suggested we go out for dinner, so that he would have to stay calm when I told him I didn’t want to wait anymore.
I won’t tell you how that conversation went, but it basically lasted for about 3 months. And then I came off the pill.
Fast forward a year and still no pregnancy. If you don’t already know what happened after that, you can read about my journey here.
So let’s talk about infertility and mental health.
I’ve talked a lot about mental health and I’ve even talked about some of the mental health difficulties I experienced during our IVF journey. But I don’t think infertility and mental health is talked about enough. Both infertility and mental health have this huge stigma attached to them. They’re both things that people often feel like they can’t talk openly about. So, when you’re going through both, it can be incredibly isolating.
When we were referred to our IVF clinic, we were told that there was a counsellor on site and that we would be entitled to 3 sessions per cycle. I remember thinking that I wouldn’t need to use those sessions. Despite my history of depression and anxiety, I thought I’d be OK. I thought I’d be able to handle it. I was so very wrong.
Even though I had lots of support and plenty of people around me, I felt completely alone.
I felt like I couldn’t fully open up about how hard it was for me, because I was worried that they’d say I wasn’t well enough to go through treatment. In hindsight, that sounds stupid. But, at the time, I was convinced (especially after our second failed cycle) that they would say I had to stop having treatment to start taking medication. (Not true).
I should have just taken advantage of the counselling sessions from the beginning, because they were so helpful when I finally admitted that I needed them.
There are just so many emotions involved with infertility and IVF. It’s really hard to process them all, especially when there’s so much going on. Trying to deal with it all on your own is just crazy.
And yet, some people have no choice
I was very lucky. When I was bottling everything up, it wasn’t because I didn’t have anyone to support me. I was surrounded by people who cared about me and would have been there for me, if I’d let them.
I can’t imagine how hard it must be for people who aren’t that lucky, who really are doing it all on their own.
That’s why I’m so open about what I went through to get my twins now. If reading my story makes just one person feel less alone or more able to get the support they need, it will be worth it.
I don’t know anyone who has breezed through infertility and/or IVF without struggling at least a little bit
Infertility and mental health problems seem to go hand in hand. So, please, if you’re struggling, talk to someone. Anyone. If not family or friends, find out what support is available through your GP or fertility clinic. This includes men too! If you’re struggling with erectile dysfunction or poor sperm quality, it doesn’t make you less of a man. Just pop along to a local clinic, like this ED Clinic Cincinnati, and ask to be checked for things like low testosterone. Hormone treatments are an effective way of treating infertility, and many, many more people have these treatments than you might realise. Know that you are not alone. And admitting that you need extra help and support will not make anyone think any less of you. No one that matters, anyway!
It’s OK to admit that you can’t do it on your own. Infertility is the hardest thing I’ve ever lived through. It became much easier when I finally opened up and asked for help.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to have to go through IVF. My boyfriend and I sound like how you did in your early days, we’re in our early-mid twenties and know we want children, but I’ve never given too much thought to the fact it might not be as easy as you expect. I’m really glad you have spoken out about the link between infertility, IVF and mental health, I definitely agree that it’s something that is not widely spoken about and should be!
Abi | https://whatabigailsays.co.uk/
Thanks, Abi! x
Hi there
I’ve just come across your while searching for anything about the lasting mental impacts of an infertility journey. After a long road, I was fortunate that we welcomed an IVF boy 3.5 years ago, but I can still feel the lasting impacts of the years of trying and struggling.
I knew at the time, my personality and what makes me, ‘me’ was slipping away. But even now, I’m struggling to regain my personality, interests and passion before infertility.
I had just assumed that I had changed and it was natural, I’m 5/6 years older now and life with a young child has been challenging. But now I realise it’s actually the lasting impacts of infertility.
I’ve been struggling career wise with trying to figure out what I want to do. And it’s only in the last week that I’ve realised my original career and what I was doing during my infertility years is what I still love. But I’ve diverged from that, in trying to be something I’m not. Trying to accept that I’ve changed. But I’ve not changed, I had just lost myself and now I’m coming back.
I’m not a writer obviously, so can’t write it eloquently. But I’d love to be able to write something about the lasting impact of infertility. I really do think that it affects you forever, even if you do have the miracle baby/babies in the end. But you’d be forgiven for thinking from looking at forums etc that everything snaps back to normal once you have your precious bundle.
Sorry, for my incoherent ramble. I just kinda needed to write this down and your post inspired me being able to do. Reading about this from someone writing not during but a while after your experiences is really helpful. More people need to acknowledge the lasting impacts and talk about it.
I’m really glad that my post inspired you to open up. You know, it doesn’t matter whether you’re a writer or not. I don’t really think I’m a writer either, but I write because it helps me and maybe sometimes it might help someone else too. If you ever fancy writing a guest post about your IVF/infertility journey, send me an email! I’d love to read it and I’m sure my readers would too!