By Pauline M
Recently a friend revealed to me that her daughter was born through IVF (In Vitro Fertilisation) and quickly added, “Please don’t tell anyone, it’s a small town”.The size of the town is definitely not the problem here!
I have met many women across the country who hesitate sharing such information. And I am yet to identify if this is because of the centuries old social stigma associated with infertility or the new age pressure of altruism, and therefore everyone constantly advising you to adopt a child. Or just plain stupidity.
I am the mother of two, conceived through IVF. Let alone hesitate, I am particularly proud of having “survived” it. Here is my side of the story…
I was diagnosed with Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) at 35. I hadn’t even heard of it before my diagnosis. Today I believe 1 in every 5 Indian women suffers from it. Since infertility is one of the more damaging symptoms of PCOS, further investigation of my reproductive system was conducted only to reveal that I also had blocked fallopian tubes and stood no chance of having children without medical intervention.
Did I want children? Yes.
Was I obsessed about it? No.
Did I come from a family that obsessed about it? Definitely not. In fact, they were rather keen that I adopt than go through any pain, physical or mental.
I chose IVF for many reasons. Firstly because I viewed my situation as a medical condition, not a stigma. If one of my kidneys was to fail, I would have looked for options – first, to cure it, then to replace it. Similarly, I was keen on trying to have my own child first before considering the option of adoption or choosing to remain childless. I have no false belief of superior genes being passed on knowing well enough that children of “normal” parents too can be born differently abled. Besides, I have immense respect for parents who adopt, I know many closely. But I also have equal respect for couples who choose not to have children. It is a matter of personal choice which was my reason number two. I have heard many snide remarks being made about my choosing IVF…“there are so many orphaned children in need of a home or the amount of money you spent on IVF could have changed the life an orphan”. I repeat, it is but a matter of personal choice.
3 years. That’s how long it took.
Over 500 injections (some of which had to be self-injected which meant an extra dose of courage being needed), hundreds of pills (to be taken as per a meticulous schedule), dozens of blood tests. Not to mention 3 failed IVF transfer attempts.
I know of many women who are unable to take the pain or pressure and give up after one attempt. I don’t blame them, it takes tremendous courage. Some of the tests I had to go through, like the Saplingography, was excruciatingly painful to endure (and spell!). The injections made me ache all over. My skin was always bruised. The pills gave me terrible mood swings. I was irritable most of the time.
The mental agony was no less. Family were supportive but constantly advised me to give up seeing my physical condition. The discomfort of lying bare in front of strangers and being probed by doctors for who I was but a clinical case; the pressure before test results were out; the heartbreak when they came out negative. The desperation – reading ever online article with anything to do with increasing my chances of success, trying everything that sounds remotely helpful, saying every prayer in the book. Post my first embryo transfer I lead a very active life thinking that would help, for the second attempt I lay motionless in bed for 3 days hoping that would help, by the third attempt I had given up and just did was I did on a normal day. None worked. Then there is the pressure of the expenses associated with the procedure. Each failure felt like hard-earned money being flushed away. When I look back I am unsure which hurt more, the physical or the metal agony of it.
Chances of success, I am told, are largely dependent on a woman’s medical condition and age. I believe they are solely dependent on a higher power or luck. There are women who conceive in their first attempt, there are some who never make it. But there are none who come of it untouched.
It is a pity therefore, for women to feel the need to hide it. The courage, endurance and perseverance that it takes to get through even one attempt is tremendous. I laud women who “survive” it. And whether the procedure is successful or not, I wish women who lived through it remember that like a tigress each scar, physical or mental, is a stripe earned. And I wish for people around her to appreciate her choice, recognize her strength and stop making her feel like less of woman or less of a mother. Trust me when I say it wasn’t the easy way out.
(The author does not wish to promote or denounce IVF. This write-up is a mere reflection of her personal views and is not to be taken as medical advice.)