STARING at yet another negative pregnancy test, I felt nothing. There were no tears, no heartbreak.
It was my ninth IVF cycle, but I felt completely emotionally detached from the process. I’d forgotten what I was doing IVF for.
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I no longer associated it with having a baby. Costly injections, expensive supplements and surgeries had become my normality.
Clinics would prey on my desperation, suggesting additional tests and experimental treatments – all of which came with a hefty price tag.
My husband James and I were working and saving to fund a medical addiction, sacrificing our finances, happiness and wellbeing.
It was 2022 and I had spent six years in a continuous cycle of IVF. I was 35 and stuck between wanting to live freely, but also caught in the grasp of baby fever.
All my friends had children, and celebrations like Christmas revolved around them. I wanted to be part of that club, but I eventually realised it was time to quit.
Looking back, I regret every single treatment.
James, 41, a small business owner, and I had been married for two years before we started trying for a baby in 2016.
As a woman with severe stage 4 endometriosis – a condition where cells similar to those in the lining of your uterus grow in other parts of your body – I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.
Alongside excruciating pain and heavy periods, surgery had revealed my fertility was compromised and I’d likely need help to conceive.
The endometriosis had damaged my reproductive organs, colon, bowel and bladder. When I also had to have my fallopian tubes removed in 2019, my fate was sealed – IVF was the only option.
I headed into my first IVF cycle, which I got via the NHS, feeling hopeful.
Emma was not eligible for NHS funded IVF due to her endometriosis and the surgery she’d had, as it was felt success rates were now too low. But after challenging this, the NHS agreed to fund two cycles privately.
It failed, but the positivity stayed with me for cycle two, using frozen embryos, which the NHS also covered. I was still optimistic for cycle three which we paid for ourselves.
It cost £9,500 plus an extra £6,000 for a surgery to improve the success rate, which was covered by savings. Both attempts were negative.
I was determined to keep going, yearning to give my mum the grandchild she desperately wanted and to be part of my friends’ lifestyle.
By cycles four and five, my hopes were starting to fade.
Stuck in mud
Then, on cycle six, we fell pregnant, but had to terminate for medical reasons at 20 weeks, during the peak of the pandemic.
It was a horrific experience, but I pushed on. Now I knew my body could get pregnant, it felt like a glimmer of hope.
“Let’s stop,” begged my husband. But I was fully focused on the end goal.
The next three IVF treatments also failed and the experience started to take an emotional toll on us.
We felt constantly stressed, tired and agitated.
We felt constantly stressed, tired and agitated
The time in between cycles, as we saved to pay for it, was like being stuck in mud. IVF not only comes at the cost of your mental health and relationships, but your finances too.
Research by fertility finance firm Gaia found that 78 per cent of patients get into debt to pay for their fertility treatment.
As well as the basic rates for cycles, clinics push add-ons. A recent study by the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority (HFEA) found 73 per cent of patients had been upsold in this way, despite the fact most are not proven to increase the chances of a baby.
We made cutbacks at home and said no to social activities, ultimately isolating ourselves from our friendship circles.
We saved every penny we could, while my parents kindly paid for two cycles.
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Unfortunately, during our treatment, we both lost grandparents, but a small inheritance allowed us to continue.
Two cycles were paid via compensation due to medical blunders.
We even paid for one round with insurance money from a burglary instead of replacing the items we had lost;
Of course, doctors encourage you to continue. Infertility is big business in the private medical sector.
When you’re caught on the IVF train, it’s hard to get off.
You always think: ‘Just one more and it will work.’ It becomes addictive.
Even as I lay in hospital with sepsis, due to yet another ovarian infection, I still didn’t feel an urge to say “no more”.
But nor did I see a child in my future.
From the age of 20 I was repeatedly told by doctors having a baby would “help” my endometriosis. To me, a baby was my get out of pain free card.
Having been pregnant, I now know this is not true. In fact, my endometriosis became significantly worse afterwards.
What is IVF?
In vitro fertilisation (IVF) is a fertility treatment to help women get pregnant. Eggs are fertilised with sperm in a laboratory and the embryo is placed in the womb.
A full cycle of IVF takes around three to six weeks to complete. It usually follows six steps, depending on the type of treatment you’re having.
- You use an injection or nasal spray every day for two to three weeks to stop your ovaries producing eggs naturally. You’ll have an ultrasound scan to check if the medicine has worked.
- Once your ovaries are no longer producing eggs, you’ll inject yourself every day for two weeks with medicine that increases your egg supply. You’ll have tests or scans to check how well it’s working.
- A doctor at the clinic collects your eggs using a needle inserted through your vagina. This takes around 20 minutes and you’ll be offered medicine that makes you sleepy (a sedative).
- Your partner is asked to give a sperm sample in a private room, usually while your eggs are being collected. If you’re using donor sperm, it will be ready in the laboratory.
- The eggs are fertilised with the sperm in a laboratory. The clinic will call you the next day to let you know how many embryos have been made and how many they might be able to use.
- After a few days, an embryo is put in your womb using a thin tube inserted through your vagina. If you have more than one embryo, your doctor will discuss the risks and benefits of putting in more than one embryo.
If any suitable embryos are left over, they may be frozen for future IVF attempts. The clinic will discuss this with you and let you know about any additional costs, such as embryo storage.
Source: NHS
When faced with life-changing reconstructive bowel and bladder surgery to alleviate pain, IVF is the easier option at any cost.
I slowly began to realise my desire to fix my medical condition overshadowed my want to have children.
I started to question if I’d be happy if IVF worked and I did actually have a child. The answer was no.
But it can be hard to admit this and something of a taboo.
I was glad to hear Kelly Brook, 45, recently speak of her acceptance of a child-free life, thanks to her grandmother’s honesty about regretting having children.
Author Marian Keyes, 65, also revealed she’d made peace with the fact that her “princess never showed up’’.
The turning point for me was losing my mum unexpectedly to lung cancer in May 2022.
I learnt how precious life was and I didn’t want to waste it chasing a fairytale
She was 59, she didn’t smoke or drink, and until her diagnosis, she was perfectly healthy.
I was shaken out of my IVF coma. I learnt how precious life was and I didn’t want to waste it chasing a fairytale.
When I finally quit IVF, a world of possibilities opened for me and I was able to embrace the new, child-free life I would be enjoying.
My husband, our dog Fletcher and I road-tripped across Portugal, Italy and Spain, before settling in the beautiful Costa Brava full time.
We are about to renovate a 1970s casa, while my career as a writer has excelled and my health has significantly improved.
Gone are the days where I get by on morphine to manage my endometriosis. Instead I’m pain-free – I put this down to our new lifestyle, with less stress, more time outdoors and better quality food.
For the first time in years, I am happy and content. I wish I’d quit IVF sooner, as it was the best decision I ever made.
For anyone struggling to conceive or in the dark depths of IVF, I promise there is a happy, amazing, adventure-filled life without children waiting for you.
Choosing to stop is not a sign of failure. It shows great strength, courage and self-worth.
According to the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority (HFEA), an average of 52,000 patients undergo IVF treatment each year.
We read all the stories of success and miracle babies, but what about the women who never bring one home – even after multiple attempts that leave them with empty arms and an even emptier bank account.
I am one of those women. Our strength and stories deserve to be celebrated too.
Emma’s husband, James, says: “IVF is tough. I hated every second of it.
“People try to be supportive, but their comments sometimes made things worse, especially: ‘Don’t worry, it will happen naturally’. That was the worst.
“I hated seeing my wife endure so much pain, too. There was zero support, especially for men.
“There was also the constant feeling of upselling from clinics and a lack of information around the costs.
“I found it hard to take consultants seriously about needing to pay for more tests or supplements when they were sitting there with a £40,000 Rolex on their wrist.”
- Follow Emma’s life in Spain and renovation project on Instagram @emma_kemsley