Reading Jennifer Aniston’s words this week about her heartbreaking struggle to have a child, I empathised.
“It was a challenging road for me, the baby-making road,” the Friends star admitted. “I was going through IVF, drinking Chinese teas, you name it. I was throwing everything at it.”
I wanted to tell her I know what that feels like – because I was in the same boat.
Infertility is still such a taboo subject, despite estimates by the NHS that it affects around one in seven couples in Britain.
In my case, it made me feel like I’d failed, or was less of a woman.
I’ve always been driven and proactive. And I don’t take no for an answer easily.
In my youth, I had my life planned out. First a career, to be financially independent and secure. Then I’d meet the man of my dreams, marry and have kids.
By the time I was 30, I was a regional sales manager for a Blue Chip company, owned two properties and was well off.
Despite cultural and religious obstacles, I married the man I loved and at 34 started trying for a baby. I assumed I’d have it easy.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would not get pregnant. I was fit, slim, healthy, didn’t drink, smoke or do drugs.
Steve and I tried for three years, not seriously, but with the attitude it’ll happen when it happens. Friends and siblings were all having kids, and we were often asked: “So when are you going to start a family?”
I was constantly reminded my biological clock was ticking. Having a baby became my obsession. I went to a private hospital for a laparoscopy to see if there was a problem. There was.
I was diagnosed with stage 4 endometriosis, so severe my chances of conceiving naturally were less than 5%.
I was told that if I had gone in sooner, it could have improved my chances. Now my only route to motherhood was IVF.
I was 37. I didn’t know anybody who’d gone through IVF and felt so alone. It wasn’t talked about – a gamble with no guarantees.
Steve and I didn’t tell a single soul, worrying people would judge us. We felt like imposters.
We spent around £10,000, a huge chunk of our savings. Through all the weekly scans, daily injections, anxiety and waiting I lived with a deep secret I felt I couldn’t share.
Luckily, I did fall pregnant and our IVF baby, Zac, was born in April 2008.
Round two of IVF didn’t work, so we adopted our daughter Amara.
It was years before we told our family and friends I had undergone IVF.
What relief there was in finally sharing.
I had built it up to be a huge thing in my mind and when I eventually talked about it, so did others – and I realised I wasn’t alone after all.
So thank you, Jen, for being honest about IVF. I’m sorry it didn’t work for you, but hopefully you opening up about your struggle will help someone else.
