The first night of my very first injection of my very first round of IVF, I was hosting an awards ceremony. The last thing I felt like doing was going to the loo, fumbling with some needles and figuring out how on earth to inject myself.
And yet that evening, the lovely woman helping me on stage with handing out awards to the right people, became a helper off stage and is still in my life five years on.
There was just something about her which made me think: “I can tell you that I am about to put drugs in my tummy and probably mess it up.” Her being a total stranger also appealed. The confession felt risk-free.
What I didn’t know before I took my leap at the dinner, in between wolfing down a bread roll and reaching for another, is that she too, years earlier, had gone through IVF to have her children.
I couldn’t believe it. I know more women are having IVF - but the odds of me sitting next to one, on that night and choosing to confide my fears, just felt, well, like it was meant to be.
She threw her arms around me when I told her, gave me some injection tips and sent me off to the loo with a bounce in my slightly shaky step. And then we did beautiful stage business - cracking gags and handing out awards to happy pissed people.
At the end of the night we exchanged numbers and she whispered that she would be more than happy to be my ‘IVF fairy’; to check in on me whenever I needed and answer any questions.
I had never heard such a phrase before but suddenly I felt like I had been initiated into a secret society, ran by women who just knew.
I gladly accepted and into my phone she went with her name and the golden words: IVF fairy.
The texts weren’t that many but every so often she would just appear, almost whenever I needed her, exactly like a fairy godmother. And we would enjoy a shorthand navigating this medical underworld together, me following a few steps behind her blinking into the light.
I don’t usually subscribe to the view that you have to have gone through something in order to support a friend or loved one experiencing exactly the same thing. Of course it helps. Empathy can be a superpower - but people also make the mistake of thinking that their experience is the only one and can try to superimpose it in a bid to be helpful.
However, with assisted conception, I do believe, having now become an IVF fairy to three women, it is one of those areas of life which you have to have some skin in the game to know what to say, and crucially what not to say.
I remember taking a deep breath when appearing on my good pal and all round good egg, Elizabeth Day’s podcast, How to Fail, and we were talking about our experiences of infertility. It was just before I said the following: “Fertile people cannot comfort infertile people,” and realised I truly meant it. (I still receive messages to this day about that episode).
They can try - and my goodness they do. But they just cannot get it. And while you keep your old and dear friends close (and you must), you also need just one person who totally understands. The longing, the pure rage, the deep well of sadness and the feeling of sheer frustration that no matter how much effort you put in, it doesn’t make a difference.
My IVF fairy relationships will last a lifetime. A bond has been forged that can never be broken. The gratitude I have for the women supporting me, available at any hour of the day and always ready to reply to a text, it’s immense. I only hope I can pay some of it forward and then some.
And if you are on this path - I would try to find someone who gets it. Social media has been an amazing place for those struggling to conceive to find each other and share. But also do try to take at least one of those bonds offline to a more private setting too - if you can.
One of my newest and closest friendships formed during the last 18 months of trying for our second child is with a wonderful woman down the road. She is also on the IVF treadmill. There have been many moments where we have impishly and happily crossed what I like to call the politeness line, but my absolute favourite was when she replied to a message at 4am saying she too was up, and that she would leave me a pregnancy test in the flower pot outside of her front door - as my hospital test hadn’t been as clear as I needed it to be. Walking down the road in the small hours of the morning in my pyjamas and coat, I found myself laughing at the sweetness of her gesture and how mad I must have looked. The sight of a Clear Blue test box in a giant empty flower pot will live long in my mind - as will the fact that she always texts back, no matter the hour, no matter the question.
I would love to hear about some of these people in your life - however central or peripheral in the comments below - should you feel you can share.
And there goes another week eh….
Thank you again so much for signing up and reading my thoughts.
I can’t tell you how important that episode was for me. Thank you! A complete turning point in my fertility journey.
Still on the treadmill however and have had a few IVF fairy’s but they have left me now with pregnancies and babies of their own. It’s an uncomfortable feeling being left on the shelf for what’s seems like for the countless time. Trying to navigate that new feeling. Reading things like this really help x
I had my son in my late 40s via IVF. My much longed for only child. I am forever grateful and appreciate these 6 years that we have had together more than any other period of time in my life. I am too old to have a sibling for him, so whilst it isn't secondary infertility, the pain is real. And of course people (who have never suffered with infertility) are quick to point out that at least I have one and that was more than I hoped for. True of course, but it doesn't mean I don't envy those who managed to have a sibling and that I don't feel guilty that he is an only child, or sad that I always wanted a big family. IVF Fairy is a great term. When you know, you know. x