I love to travel. Sometimes I even love to travel alone. I’ve backpacked solo around Thailand, no problem. I’m a grown-ass woman after all: big enough, savvy enough…yep, and ugly enough to take care of myself. Sure, there were moments of loneliness; occasions where I’d watch a particularly breathtaking sunset and wish there was another human sitting alongside me, chugging on a Chang and gazing wistfully out to sea. But by and large I found travelling alone to be liberating and utterly exhilarating.

But there’s one particular journey I’ve undertaken that was excruciatingly lonely and soul-crushingly isolating: my IVF journey.

Although it was more a trip than a journey really. A bad one. The drugs you’re given during an IVF cycle are almost as mind-bending as LSD, for a start. Then there’s the waiting. So. Much. Waiting. Waiting for a year for the GP referral to the clinic in the first place, then another year (if you’re lucky!) on the clinic’s waiting list; waiting for tests…and then the results; waiting for the cycle to begin, the egg retrieval; waiting for news of fertilisation…then the two-week wait to find out if it’s worked. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Even the longest flight I’ve ever taken – to Australia, which seems never-ending – is like seconds compared to the clock-watching agony of waiting for news during each nail-gnawing stage of the IVF process.

And all through that process there’s this sense of solitude that makes you feel as though you’re the sole survivor of a shipwreck, bewildered and blinking in the sunlight; washed-up and alone on a desert island, wondering what the future holds; wondering if you’ll ever be rescued from the grip of infertility that somehow makes time stand still.

Only I wasn’t alone – well, not physically, at least. I’d step out of St Barts Hospital, rivulets of mascara-streaked tears coursing down my cheeks after another failed round of treatment, and be swallowed up by the sea of strangers surging onto the tube at Bank station. It’s funny how you can be surrounded by people, nose-to-nose in a crazily-overcrowded city like London – yet still feel completely alone.

Occasionally I’d spot a ‘Baby on board’ badge being proudly sported by a glowing expectant mum, coat straining over burgeoning bump, and think: “Will I ever get to wear one of those?” (The answer, which came much later, was no). Ironically, the IVF drugs make your stomach bloat, so I’m sure some people mistakenly thought I was already ‘in the club.’

I considered making my own badge, adding a big red ‘NO’ in front of the words ‘Baby on board,’ and a tongue-in-cheek ‘…but can I have your seat anyway?’ after them, followed by a smaller ‘Infertility awareness.’ But then I thought better of it. It would’ve had to have been a pretty big badge for a start, to fit all that on clearly. Saucer-sized, at least. Hardly subtle.

I guess my badge idea was kind of a cry for help, a hope that other women in similar circumstances would see it and strike up a conversation with me; actual, real-life women, instead of just the virtual friends (helpful as they were) that I made online on sites such as Fertility Friends as we consoled and supported one other late at night through our computer screens.

So when I came across the pineapple pin, the simple but genius brainchild of the ladies over at online fertility magazine IVF Babble, I mentally high-fived them and their stylish, subtle approach (as opposed to my bullish one) and instantly headed to Amazon to get my own. As this year marks the 40th anniversary of IVF success, IVF Babble launched their #StrongerTogether campaign during last month’s National Fertility Awareness Week. The pineapple, long since a universal symbol of friendship, warmth and welcome, has become the globally-recognised symbol of good luck in the TTC (trying to conceive) community.

Both Sara Marshall-Page and Tracey Bambrough from IVF Babble are proud mothers of twin girls following their own fertility treatments, so are fully aware of the rollercoaster of emotions that are inevitable during such a personal and life-changing journey. Although I am no longer part of the TTC community myself, having stepped off the fertility treatment carousel some years ago now, I am a vocal supporter of those who are going through treatment and beyond. I am far enough along in my journey to be able to help others: on my blog Life: A Bird’s Eye View, in newspaper and magazine articles, and my Facebook group for childless (or childfree, depending on your outlook) women called The Non-Mum Network.

The pineapple pin is for anyone wanting to offer support to those with fertility issues, as well as the one in six couples experiencing difficulties themselves, with all profits going to Fertility Network UK. Famous supporters include Fearne Cotton, Kate Thornton, and Izzy Judd, wife of McFly drummer Harry, and now a mother of two following her own fertility struggles.

Having gone through my own meandering IVF journey, taking the scenic route to happiness, albeit without the fairytale visit from the stork at the end, I can say that anything that offers support to those people – both men and women – going through fertility treatment has to be a good thing. UK IVF success rates currently stand at around 1 in 3 per cycle for women under 35, with well over 250,000 babies born in the UK though IVF in the past 25 years.

So if you’re sitting at the bus stop or on the tube and you see someone wearing the pin, give them a smile. You may both be on the same journey – in more ways than one.

Would you like to show your support for this campaign? Order your pineapple pin now from Amazon below….

This article has also appeared in the Lifestyle section of the Huffington Post UK here.

Sam x

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Pining For A Baby? The Pineapple Pin That Says ‘You’re Not Alone.’ appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

IVF KILLED MY MARRIAGE

Samantha Walsh, 41, works in retail management and lives with her partner Andy, 35, a shipping coordinator, in Sevenoaks, Kent. She says:

“When we had our first round of IVF in October 2009, my then-husband Liam and I were so confident it would work, we bought a four-bedroom house in Sevenoaks. We were raring to fill it with our family, but looking back, it was a mad thing to do. We’d had to resort to fertility treatment because my Fallopian tubes were blocked with scar tissue from a previous gynaecological operation, and by August 2011 we were on our third attempt. But I was still sure it was going to happen. I vividly remember the hope I felt knowing I was due to take a pregnancy test on our sixth wedding anniversary – followed by utter heartbreak when my period arrived.

We were both gutted, especially as we had run out of NHS funding. That’s when we made the horrendous decision to say enough was enough. Neither of us felt strong enough to continue – it was just too hard. I’d been taking the maximum dosage of hormones for each treatment, so my moods had been all over the place. Liam and I had always been a laid-back, party-loving couple, but by that point we were arguing over everything. It didn’t help that our dream family home needed a lot of work, so on top of the pressures of trying to get pregnant, a renovation just made us more stressed. Our lives had effectively been put on hold for two years as we desperately fought to have a family and now it was all for nothing.

After we decided not to carry on, we ended up retreating to our own floors of the house, where we could deal with our loss alone. Liam had the top floor, I had the one below. Without a common goal of a family, we lost our focus and optimism. While I grieved for what I would never have, I began to see my friends on my own and Liam did the same. It was very subtle, but soon we were socialising without each other, which was something we had never done before. Then we started going on separate holidays. There were days when we were so heartbroken that our 15-year relationship was in such a sorry state that we tried to make amends, but all the hope we once shared was replaced by grief.

While Liam and I did look into fostering and discussed adoption, we didn’t want a child for the sake of a child, we really wanted our own children. And besides, by the time adoption was the only option left, our relationship wasn’t strong enough. It was just too painful to be together and in February 2013 we split up. We sold the house and moved out a couple of days after our eigth wedding anniversary. I felt so alone. I was 37, and all my friends were married or in a relationship and extending their families, while I felt like a complete failure. It hurt so much that I almost contemplated suicide.

Liam and I stayed in touch and a few months after we split he started dating a younger woman. I felt sick at the thought of him having a baby with someone else. I truly believed – and still do – that we would still be married if we hadn’t put ourselves through IVF. I so wish we had been able to regain the happiness we had before our infertility nightmare began.

Even so, I am glad we tried, as I would have regretted it if we hadn’t. Liam still hasn’t had any kids, but I’ve slowly come to terms with the fact he might have children one day and I know he will make a great dad.

In August 2014, I met my current partner Andy. He has two young daughters who live with their mother, but I see them regularly, which is lovely. He’s at peace with the fact that I will never be able to give him children. My sister has a young son so I’m an auntie now, too. I’ve learned it’s best not to dwell on what might have been, and I think I have accepted that I will never be a mother.

I believe we were lucky that we had our treatment though the NHS, as we were given honest information about success rates – there was no benefit for them to cherry-pick figures. But I know that some clinics present results in such a way as to make them look better than they actually are, which is heartbreaking – especially for vulnerable couples who are desperate to have a baby. I know too well how that desperation feels and am just so glad that they didn’t try to tap into it.

Thankfully, I’ve now found another purpose in my life, running a Facebook group for women in the same situation as me. It’s just so nice we can all offer each other support having gone through such an awful time.”

For the full article, go to Fabulous Magazine Online or click here.

Sam x

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post I’m In The Sun’s Fabulous Magazine: When Fertility Treatment Fails appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.