IVF Update #1 - Pre-treatment Appointments

The Probe 

In the UK it’s called shared motherhood and in America they call it reciprocal IVF, it’s expensive and there doesn’t seem to be many figures flying round on the success rate but we decided a long time ago we owed it to ourselves to give it a shot (pardon the dad joke I’m

practicing).

Our very first appointment was at the end of October.  An informal chat to talk us through the entire procedure. We arrived at the clinic (a 45 minute drive from our house) full of optimism, we where excited and curious, anxious and nervous - my wife was excited by the concept and curious of the science.  I was anxious of the cost and nervous at the thought of eventually having to leave my dignity in a treatment room - something I have protected for 32 years! 

As we sat in the reception, my wife was most impressed by the ‘complimentary’ drinks machine.  It took all of my effort to not blurt out - it’s not free babe, nothing in this place is free!  We’re paying an absolute fortune for this - if you want a coffee don’t be polite about it, get 2! So she did and a biscuit (that’s my girl).

Our name was called and we where taken to a room for our informal chat, we ran through what our plans were and our reasons.  My wife is to carry my egg using donor sperm!  The main reason we chose to do it this way is because well, I can’t even carry a cold let alone a child, and my wife is not the sympathetic type either!  Me pregnant would definitely end in divorce for us, I’m good at trying to fix things, I’m a pleaser.  I’ll be happy to run out at stupid-o'clock in the morning for random cravings, so like any good team we figured we would play to our strengths!

Apparently the meeting was informative, my wife took plenty of notes, I however, zoned out when she said the first step would be to scan me... internally... she pointed to a machine... there was the biggest probe on the end of this machine... From that point on, everything she said I found myself turning round to look at the probe and thinking to 

myself - no, not happening.  For example, she said: "Now Kerry, when we get to the stage of implantation..." and I’m thinking to myself - we won’t get to the stage of implantation because I won’t survive the first scan, I will just die of embarrassment.  It will be like that scene on Game of Thrones where Cerci Lannister is naked walking through the streets of Kings Landing, except it won’t be peasants throwing eggs, it will be doctors and nurses chanting - Shame! Shame! Shame! 

Every so often I would be pulled back from Kings Landing by my wife, with an affectionate pat on the knee and a ‘babe are you listening?’ But still I couldn’t stop looking at the stirrups and the probe.  I’m not actually sure what I expected.  I’m not stupid, I know I can’t just lay an egg like a chicken in private and hand it over to an embryologist - but still, the reality of the entire situation kind of took my breath away.

So that was me for the next three weeks awaiting my scan.  Watching endless YouTube videos of scans; skulking around Boots trying to discretely work out if the new Philips Lady Shave was a closer shave than my current Boots own brand one (FYI for the extra £60 it’s not.)  I even booked myself a smear test to prepare myself!  It just so happened to fall the same week as my scan. By the time the week of probing came round I’d whipped myself into that much of a frenzy I was seriously considering leaving the country in the dead of night.  Normally when we have to do something unpleasant I make my

Wife go first so she can reassure me it’s not that bad.  But here I was about to go first.  I hadn’t signed up for this.

The great thing about my wife is that she recognises when I am uncomfortable, when I’m unsure, and rather than reassure me, she pushes me out of my comfort zone, she takes my hand and we jump together.  That’s how I end up paragliding off mountains and scuba diving in the ocean - she knows what I’m capable of even when I don’t.  That’s how I got through the scan; she pushed me through door and took control, and it wasn’t so bad.  No eggs where thrown, no one chanted shame and to be honest, if anything, I was a little disappointed  that the person scanning me didn’t give a shit about anything but my ovaries!