By Jennifer Robertson
We ALL have that picture in our head of how things are going to happen when we make the decision to have a baby.
We stop taking contraception, we start making hot passionate love with our partner, and then we fall pregnant……..right?
For some that may be true, but for a lot of couples – 1 in 6 Australians, or 1 in 8 Americans, it doesn’t go down that way. Infertility is very real. We feel like we’re the only ones this is happening to, but the statistics say otherwise.
I blame my addiction to romantic comedies for that picture I had in my head of conception.
My husband and I decided to try for a baby on our honeymoon. It was the perfect plan, and everything I’d dreamed of. Except for the falling pregnant part of course. After 6 months of negative pregnancy tests, we found ourselves in our doctors’ office, being referred to a fertility specialist.
This isn’t how I pictured it.
For the next 12 months I was poked and prodded, had my private parts on display in operating theatres, was prescribed copious amounts of hormones, tried Viagra pessaries (yep!!), had a failed IVF cycle which included injecting myself in the stomach daily, tried different diets, potions, homeopaths, acupuncture…..the list goes on. I googled it, I listened to all the amazing success stories and did what I was told.
And still nothing.
Anyone who suffers from infertility knows that there are a LOT of moments that happen on this journey where you think……this is not how I pictured it.
For me, that picture came crashing down the morning I found myself travelling to work on the train with a cup of sperm nestled safely in my handbag to keep it warm. ⠀
How? It was simple really.
We were undergoing IVF treatment and my husband had to provide a sperm sample to the clinic. His work was nowhere near the IVF clinic, however, I worked down the road. So, we decided that I would make the delivery and then head off to work, as if nothing unusual had happened that morning.
For those of you who aren’t aware, there is a time limit between ejaculating (sorry) and deposit, so the clock was ticking. That morning I waited (not so) patiently for my husband to do his thing, begging him to hurry because I was going to be late for the train. Of course, in hindsight I found out that telling him to hurry up wasn’t the best way to push things along. Once the deed was (finally) done, I swiftly took said sample and after checking the lid was secure (several times), put it in my handbag and ran to the train.