As a newborn photographer based in Dorset, who photographed over 400 babies I often get asked loads of questions from new parents.. about babies, their worries, etc.. I am no medical professional, but my job makes me kind of an expert when it comes to handling baby, soothing baby and overall very observant with all matters.. but also I am very good at listening and I have heard many amazing stories, of how the little treasures came into the world.. You know, the very very beginning… And it is sensitive. Many times I have shared a tear behind the doors. So many rainbow babies, babies that came to the world with IVF help, and the list goes on..
I know the IVF subject is very sensitive and best it comes from someone that has been through it. This is why I asked my dear client who I gain to call a friend, to tell her story. And truly, it was hard to read at first but I think if you are thinking of going via the process of IVF or currently going through it might give you a little more courage and support. If you have gone through it, please leave a comment, we would love to hear from you! It might be just the thing to encourage and give strength to others because after all, this is why this BLOG came to exist in the first place.

Hayley’s Story:

”It’s really difficult to know where to start when it comes to our IVF journey. I figure it’s best to skip the infertility stage and go right to the IVF side of things. Who knows, maybe Alma will ask me to write in the future about of journey before IVF.

 Being only 24 and 25 when we started IVF, people perhaps thought we were a bit too young. Many tried to put us off, heck, we tried to put ourselves off at one point. I remember a few days before our cycle started, my partner throwing a complete wobbler and saying he didn’t want to go ahead with it anymore because he was so worried it wouldn’t work and the toll it might take on us. But we talked it through, and of course, the rest is history...

Our story is a little different. Like so many couples, we didn’t qualify for IVF on the NHS thanks to the infamous postcode lottery, so we had to fund treatment ourselves. Having researched ways to reduce costs, we came across the option to egg share. What’s that I hear, you ask?

 So egg sharing is just that. You share your eggs. We got our IVF cycle for free (aside from a small HFEA fee of £75), and in exchange, half of the eggs collected from my ovaries were donated to a couple that could not produce eggs themselves. So they, in essence, cover the cost of our treatment in exchange for my eggs. This option seemed perfect for us. Not only did we get our treatment for free, but we got to help another couple in the process!

 That said, egg sharing isn’t for everyone. Think of it like this, you are essentially putting your eggs up for adoption. Someone else then uses those eggs, with your DNA, to have a baby with their partner. The potential baby will be part of ‘you.’ Not everyone is comfortable with that.

Like the adoption process, any subsequent babies made from your eggs are allowed to seek you out when they turn 18. We had to meet with a counselor before we signed anything to make sure we understood the gravity. We had to discuss how we might feel if an 18-year-old approached us one day that had my eyes or my nose etc., and wanted to get to know us. We also had to discuss the prospect that we might NOT get pregnant, but our donor egg recipient might... so essentially, they might get a baby when we might not, how we would cope with that. Pretty deep, right?

 As part of the process, I had to write a kind of statement to my donated eggs that they would potentially get to see when they turned 18. I had to write what I looked like, what my interests were, and a general ‘letter’ to them. This was REALLY hard! How do you write to someone that doesn’t and might never exist? How do I explain that although they might share my DNA and some characteristics, they aren’t truly mine? It took me a long time to find the words to write that letter, and I so wish I had kept a copy before submitting it to the clinic. In a nutshell, I told my eggs (that sounds so weird!) that their parents went to the ends of the earth to make them, that their parents so desperately wanted them and that regardless of DNA, THEY were their parents, not me. I told them I had no doubt they would be loved, cherished and adored, after the difficulties their parents had to endure to conceive them. I told them that if they sought me out, I would not turn them away; it would be lovely to meet them, but (in a nice way) I wasn’t their mother. I think that was the hardest part of the whole thing emotionally... thinking, what you say in that letter has the potential to destroy or uplift a part of you. It was important to get it right. 

Once that part was out of the way, the clinic had to find us a match. A match is basically another couple that had the same characteristics as me so that any baby born from my egg donation would look similar to them. So for example, brown hair, brown eyes, Caucasian, etc. It’s important to note; we only donated eggs. So my partner’s characteristics weren’t taken into account—only mine. The recipient’s sperm fertilised the donated eggs. I remember the wait was awful, constantly refreshing my emails to see if we had anything from the clinic to say we could start treatment. What if they didn’t have anyone that looked like me, that needed my eggs? The wait seemed to last forever, but it was only a couple of weeks in the end. I remember being on an infertility forum (remember forums pre Facebook?), chatting with other women who were also egg sharing at the same clinic. We bonded over that forum... shared our highs and lows of our cycles, celebrated successes, and sharing in grief for canceled or unsuccessful cycles. One of the women I met on there is actually now my daughter’s Godmother!

Finally accepted came the part of syncing my cycle with my recipient lady. Basically, the lady receiving my eggs and I had to have our cycles manipulated to be exactly the same. So our bodies were at the exact same stage of our menstrual cycle, at the same time (Essentially, our periods had to be due on the same day). This was done by doing an injection called Prostrap (I think that’s how you spell it... it was 8 years ago). Basically, it stops everything and puts you into false menopause (yay for hot flushes!) so that your next period falls when the clinic needs it to. After that, you can start stims! The fun part!

 I did make a (very bad quality) youtube video for my first injection, which you are welcome to watch here:

but the video and sound quality are extremely bad (I also realize now, watching the video today.. that my partner wipes the needle repeatedly with a kitchen roll before we injected it, thus making it no longer sterile... please do not do that at home!!! Sigh...

 We also made a prior video of our first injection (prostrap), but the quality is so poor that I won’t subject you to it! Ha ha But here is a screenshot of that very first injection.... can you tell it wasn’t pleasant?”

It is a long journey, so it can not possibly fit into one article. Therefore we named this a PART1. PART 2 will be coming next week, and you will be able to read the rest, where the story got a little bumpy for them.

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NHS also has loads of useful information on this topic, and here’s where you can start:
https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/ivf/support/

Much Love,
Alma
Newborn Baby Photographer from Dorset, covering Dorset and surrounding areas like Salisbury, Southampton, Bournemouth, Yeovil, and Ringwood.