When I think about my infertility saga in Ireland I still have moments of frustration about how dubious it was. I can’t recall a single professional that inspired confidence in me.
At 34, I knew that something was wrong but not yet that it was stage 4 endometriosis. When I spoke of the agonising pains that ran down my thighs and my ominously scant periods, Dublin Well Woman clinic merely told me that pain was a good sign – it meant I was fertile – and that I was ‘a lucky girl’ not to have to spend so much money on sanitary protection.
In 2010 another female GP told me:
“Pain usually means things are working”.
The first IVF doctor we saw (at Merrion Clinic) was hectic and odd: she snapped at us not to ask questions or take notes during the consultation. We left.
Sims Dublin were smooth-talkers but seemed to be shooting in the dark. They advised max-dosage IVF that failed spectacularly before transfer. But the one time that they simply manually ruptured a cyst for me (to prepare the way for another, experimental protocol), I became pregnant and miscarried. I always had large ‘leftover follicles’ and had long suspected I had a problem releasing eggs.
If they did that kind of monitoring every month, with hormonal support, wouldn’t that be more effective than another big €6,000 nuke attack?
No comment from them: the only follow-up was an invoice for 40 euro for the pregnancy test.
In the meantime I saw a professional counsellor. I was agonizing about whether to continue with treatment or accept a life without kids.
She gravely told me I needed ‘a Plan B’. But how, what, when? I asked in desperation. Her one suggestion:
“Have you thought about a book club?”
And when I pondered whether life would be so bad without children:
“Well, I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my daughters” (Visible shudder).
So, I then drifted in the direction of Dublin’s current donor-baby god, an affable Kiwi gent beloved of the women of the message-boards. I had a fairly bizarre experience with him. He knew I was doubtful, so he opened up to me a bit.
Notes from my diary, 13th May 2011:
“We got a 51-year-old woman pregnant with twins. It was OK; she was a young 51. But we got a 53-year-old pregnant and I wish I’d told her not to bother…. she was old, you know, she was tired. Donor is a big decision. You don’t do it unless you’re desperate”.
He then said that he and his second wife had been “trying for number two”. Advice from his wife?
“Get a dog instead”.
Something made me google him later. He had a Facebook page, and had posted up a desperate plea: he was looking for the children he’d had with his ex-wife, but she had turned them against him and he didn’t see them at all now.
The irony slapped me in the face: the donor-baby god estranged from his own biological children.
That was when I started to stop. The clinics didn’t seem to know what they were doing. The donor-baby god, newly installed in Dublin’s flashiest private hospital making menopausal women pregnant, was keen to take my money but made me question the point of it all.
I just wanted out. It was crazier than I was. Couldn’t I just eschew all the madness, stop giving these shady characters our money, and live a normal life?
It seemed like a sensible Plan B.
(PS: I’ve nothing against book clubs and I love dogs. Just feck off suggesting them if you’ve got four kids or you regularly get 50-year-olds pregnant).
Good Jesus. This should be in the national press. Fuckwits.
LikeLiked by 2 people
A book club is a fun hobby but no way would I suggest it to everyone as a way of dealing with the possibility of not being able to have kids! I get the impression that a lot of fertility clinics just use one standard approach for everyone and don’t take the time to tailor it to the patient’s individuals case. I think it’s crazy how endometriosis is so common yet doctors never seem to think that anyone might have it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow. it really is a scandal – the whole scene sounds like it needs some kind of primetime show expose. Book clubs are generally turgid and dogs are worse than babies.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha no, dogs rule.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pain means things are working? Get a dog instead? A counselor telling you that she didn’t know what she’d do without her kids? Pay a fuckton of money yet not be allowed to ask questions or take notes? I wish you were making this up!
And don’t even get me started on the lack of knowledge and understanding of endometriosis by medical professionals.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow. What a load of awfulness. That whole pain thing? Would they ever say that to a man? I had an OB/GYN in my early twenties who told me that “some women just have pain” and seemed to blame me for a negative exploratory laparoscopy for endo. Fabulous. That counsellor should not be allowed to work with people dealing with infertility and assorted decisions within it. I can’t believe her answer to feeling out not having children was to shudder and say how she couldn’t imagine not having her daughters. How. Is. That. Helpful? And a dog? or a bookclub? I love both, but not as a fit-this-puzzle-piece-here solution to thinking about not having children after having tried. And the doctor who said don’t take notes? WTF? So strange. I’m sorry you had such shit experiences. I wish they weren’t common stories with so many women. So far to go in the OB/GYN/RE/Infertility Counseling realms.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh my goodness! I am completely appalled at the complete ignorance and insensitivity to the emotional issues of infertility, and appalled and gobsmacked at the almost criminal ignorance of some of the medical professionals you have had to deal with. It is outrageous!
I’d love to write to that so called “professional” counsellor and tell her about infertility. How completely incompetent!
Argh. I can’t say anything further I am so horrified. I need to go and pick up my jaw from the floor before I trip over it …
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was going to write something quite similar to BnB. I still can’t get around to the idea why it should be okay for women to be in pain. It certainly wouldn’t be for men. I have endometriosis, too, and the lack of research and knowledge around it make me angry.
LikeLiked by 1 person