3 months on from the biggest decision of my life

I walked away from IVF 3 months ago with no long awaited pregnancy or baby announcement. But mine is still a happy ending.

Its’s been about three months since my last IVF cycle ended with no embryos. Three months of sitting with the clarity that my future will be one that does not contain children. No traditional family unit of two parents and two kids, like most of my friends around me, and most of society. My partner and I had decided before going into that cycle, which was my eighth fertility treatment cycle (five of which we did together) that we were ready to draw a line under the chapter and move on.

We were ready for the years of living in monthly cycles of hope, timing, tracking, injecting, clinic visits, invasive and painful procedures, waiting, grief and tears only to pick ourselves up again month after month, to be over. I was SO ready for those years to be over. Was I ready to accept a life without the family I’d come to realise by my late 30’s I really wanted, was not going to become a reality? I don’t know. That’s a work in progress. But by god I was ready to NOT be trying to have a baby.

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No to grief, yes to owning decisions and taking control

In my last post I talk about how the experiences of infertility and childlessness are one of the biggest areas of human empathy failure² , a fact which you will find anyone having walked this path before vigorously nodding in agreement at. Even having done significant work on my mindset and personal development over this time I still found the feelings that come with moving through a world that doesn’t understand this experience to be at times, painstakingly difficult.

Whilst I had a small tribe of wonderful people around me and was a part of the most supportive fertility group there is, moving through the world whilst living an experience that is wildly misunderstood can be consuming, exhausting, and just plain hard.

I know this next chapter of coming to terms with a future of no children will still be coloured with it’s own struggles and grief, but it is a chapter I can own and shape, and to some extent have a little more certainty around.

You see, when you are trying to fall pregnant there is no certainty that you will get the baby that you are pouring your heart, soul, emotions, finances and time into. I know for almost certain now that our future does not contain our own children and with that comes feelings of peace and excitement about being able to move on with life, as well as a sense of empowerment and control having made a decision. Yes there is grief, there is fear and a sense of unjust, and many other emotions. I know nothing in life is certain, and that life is full of unknowns and you never now what is around the corner and all of that. But unless a 1% type of miracle happens there won’t be any babies making their permanent appearance into my life.

I know there are ways to transform how you move through an infertility experience so that it doesn’t take over your life, and you can bring peace and joy into your days whilst navigating fertility treatments, and I did do all those things. I connected to myself, what I needed and what bought me joy - I went on holidays, I went away for weekends, kept up most of the activities I love - I basically did IVF around life and not the other way around. But even having moved through the infertility years in this relatively empowered way there is still just so much pain and compounding grief that comes with living your life in this space of not knowing if you’re ever going to get the thing, that at times, feels like it’s costing you so much.

Being so very close now to the end of my 30’s I knew I was done. I intuitively knew I did not want to let any more pain and grief make their way into the cracks of what came before, breaking the seals I’d worked so hard to put in place. I was done with that part of my story and ready to welcome in a new chapter as I approach my 40th birthday.

So how am I feeling now?

To be completely honest it changes week to week, day to day. Life is like a pendulum, and such is the grieving process of coming to terms with a future with no kids. But I think I can honestly say the dominant feeling has been relief. I could write a list of about 100 things that I’m relieved about, but those that spring to mind most immediately are:

• No more gambling of our savings on crazy low odds that even the casino addicted would shy away from punting on.

• Seeing the bank balance start to resemble one of a full time working couple with no kids again. IVF bleeds that sucker dry!

• Not swallowing about 15 supplements each day. I take the few that I think contribute to my overall sense of health and energy only, and it’s no longer a chore.

• Not lining up at 7:30am for blood tests multiple times a week.

• Not taking my pants off in front of different nurses and doctors several times a month.

• The misdirected platitudes from clinic staff (“this will be the cycle!”, “It only takes one!”)

• Being able to make plans with certainty. Or least certainty that I’ll be available, be able to afford the thing, won’t be pregnant, won’t be mid IVF cycle, won’t have a newborn, won’t have to let people down by pulling out.

• The mental load of trying to conceive and doing fertility treatments - I could write a whole article on the mental load of fertility!

• Embracing activities that I’d shied away from or would have me riddled with anxiety that they’d hamper IVF success. I’ve started training for another half marathon, and injuries withholding, I’m hoping to do my 4th half marathon a month after my 40th birthday. It will be my first half in just over 10 years.

• Not having to deal with medications wreaking havoc on my cycles, hormones and moods.

It’s not all relief though, I have felt pangs of sadness that have run deep into my soul, wistful longing towards other people’s families and rage and anger towards the universe for dealing me this hand. A hand that is not understood, and like the experience of infertility that came before it, it’s grief and pain not validated. These emotions are all valid and need to be seen, heard and felt, but I’m not going to dwell on them too much here. At least not right now.

The other happy endings

When I was deep in the throes of those months and years living with the pain, grief and longing, and unknown if that longing would ever be satiated, I craved stories of hope. In the hours I spent scrolling on my phone, I found the fertility space to be awash with stories of people who got their long awaited babies and families. Announcement photos of couples with signs listing the number of needles that were jabbed, egg retrievals undergone, transfers failed, pregnancies ending in loss, that all had to be endured before finally receiving happy news. Maybe they’d arranged all their used medication syringes into a love heart, with an ultrasound photo in the centre. People and the internet LOVE a rainbow baby or a happy ending to an IVF story. It’s joyful. The reward at the end of the struggle is the comfortable ending that people know what to do with. It’s like the world was telling me that was the only outcome, which I knew was so far from the truth, as most fertility treatment cycles aren’t successful. The fact that the happy ending stories was all I could see felt so deeply unsettling.

Woman goes on to have a surprise pregnancy after IVF.

Woman has twins after rounds of IVF.

Woman spreads the ‘never give up hope’ message after successful IVF

Woman finally becomes pregnant after 10 IVF cycles.

Woman goes on to live happy and fulfilled life after failed IVF? Not so much.

Where are all the stories of when it doesn’t work! I wanted to shout. There are some amazing women and childless/childfree coaches out there, but you have to look hard to find them. Their voices, stories and alternatively happy endings have very little, if any airtime within the online fertility communities .

I consider myself to be an optimistic pragmatist, so whilst I love the rainbow baby ending as much as the next person I needed these other stories. The pragmatist in me craved other stories. I wanted to see the women living their best lives without the kids they thought they might have. I wanted to see stories of women moving on and embracing lives full of hope, travel, joy, love, trials and misfortunes, business ventures, peaceful days, freedom and adventure. I needed stories of women grabbing life by the reigns after fertility treatment without the ‘outcome’. Of women living life outside the blueprint that society gave us.

So this is where Afterglow comes in. Most of my writing here is going to be about the glow, the satisfaction, the happiness and the delight that can come after. After not getting what you thought you wanted. After learning that your life path will involve ‘otherhood’, and not motherhood. After finding yourself on a path you are not really sure about. After experiencing something that turned your life upside down. There will be sprinkles of the infertility experience because I feel so strongly about the need to redefine the way this is understood. But for the most most part, Afterglow is life outside the blueprint, finding delight in the unknown, unexpected and lesser known paths.

This is the start of my happy ending.

I hope you’ll join me.

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