French for infertility: Part 2

The IVF rounds, the number of eggs that were retrieved and a new test that possibly explained why I wasn't getting pregnant!

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I want to preface this second part (you can read the first part here) by saying that while we were on holiday in Crete in May, I received a hurtful message on Instagram from someone who had unfollowed me. She had sadly lost a pregnancy late in her term, and seeing my bump and pregnancy posts made her angry. She accused me of “bragging” and it really stung. I was hoping it would wash off, but her message lingered in my mind, making me more self-conscious about sharing more about my pregnancy and IVF experience. Hence part two has taken me a little longer to write.

I know her words came from a place of devastation, not malice and I feel nothing but sorrow for her, but they left a lasting impression nonetheless. If anyone reading this feels triggered by bump or pregnancy updates, I invite you to mute me on Instagram. Don’t feel obligated to stay. I know how hard pregnancy and bump posts can be if you’re going through treatment. Perhaps just don’t tell me about it though: highly sensitive person over here!

To be clear: I’m not bragging. I’m celebrating. After three heartbreaking and traumatic years, I’ve finally reached a healthy pregnancy and I’m proud of my body for the first time in a very long time. I share my joy not to boast, but to honour the journey. If you, too, are pregnant after infertility struggles, celebrate it with gusto! I believe that sharing your joy and experience can give hope to others!

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For those who haven’t endured IVF, it’s tough to put into words. Much like childbirth, you just have to experience it to fully understand it. But in an attempt to sum it up: it tests you to your core. The process sweeps the rug out from underneath you, and the confidence that you spent your adult life building crumbles. After multiple rounds of failed cycles, you begin to question everything - your place in this world, your life decisions (did I party too hard in my 20s and fuck up my eggs); your very existence. It is the most destabilizing and demoralizing experience I have ever been through.

I’ve always been a control freak; I like to run a tight ship. And whether I made the right decisions or not (only time will tell), I’ve consciously steered every major chapter of my life: moving to Paris, seeking out a partner like Victor and building a hodgepodge of a creative career after trying numerous different avenues. Suddenly faced with infertility, I felt helpless, adrift and hopelessly out of control. Personal-development books will tell you to surrender to the process, but I am not one for surrendering. In the hope of gaining some control, I consumed a lot of material. I listened to podcasts, sought out IVF stories on social media and read books, but nothing quite gave me the solace I was seeking. Even therapy didn’t help. Education and information can make you feel more equipped, but it does not necessarily give you answers, because so much of infertility is inexplicable. That’s the worst part about it - the unknown. There may not be any real reason why you’re not getting pregnant.

Apart from the actively trying part, conceiving was totally out of my control. I could not control what my body was doing, despite going through highly-controlled procedures, and it was incredibly infuriating. My cycle was controlled, my ovulation was controlled, the sperm meeting the egg was controlled, the egg going back into my womb was controlled. The lining of my womb was being controlled by taking progesterone. And yet, my body or my eggs refused to play ball and I went through periods of hating myself, especially my body, and feeling like a big fat failure.

My weight fluctuated, I felt bloated and it did a real number on my physical and mental health. I went through some very dark days. Feeling so low that I didn’t want to get out of bed. And then I would come off the hormones, have a few months of reprieve, the dark cloud would lift, light would slowly stream back in and I would start to feel like me again, reminding myself that this was not my usual state, it was the hormones and situation I found myself in. I would then feel almost ready to face another operation & round of hormones.

The administration of hormones was one of the hardest parts for me. I used to hate needles - I dreaded blood tests and often fainted during them. Even now, I have to close my eyes because I can’t handle the sight of blood. During our first round of IVF, Victor gave me the injections. But when he had to travel for work, I was left to do them myself. The first time, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and literally stabbed myself, leaving a large bruise. But gradually, I got used to the process and even the most painful injections. It’s incredible what your body and mind can get used to. Eventually, they became second nature, just another part of my daily skincare routine.

The first round was undoubtedly the worst, mainly because I didn’t know what to expect and my body had never experienced an overload of hormones before. Plus I was denied general anesthesia for the egg retrieval and went into the operation a blubbing mess (I didn’t want to be awake during the procedure). It also didn’t help that on the morning of the operation, we were sent on a wild goose chase around the hospital because the location had changed last minute due to staff shortages. I walked nearly 45 minutes with painfully-engorged ovaries from fertility, to reception back to fertility and finally to urology, where I would have the operation. By the time I reached the pre-op room, I was shaking and crying so hard they had to sedate me. I eventually fell asleep in the operating theatre, grateful for the relief.

I woke up in the recovery room to the sound of another patient vomiting. I was then wheeled upstairs and given a couple of hours to recuperate before I was roused, given some food and was told I could go home. The doctor informed me they had retrieved six eggs. We then had to wait to see if they would develop into embryos after being introduced to Victor’s sperm, which he had provided that same morning. I was in pain for nearly a week, working from the sofa with a hot water bottle pressed to my abdomen. Five days later, we got the call: only one embryo had developed, and it was graded a C—poor quality. But they transferred it anyway during my next cycle. Of course it didn’t work. I later learned at Bluets that embryos graded below B shouldn't be transferred. The disappointment was rough, but I also knew it was rare that IVF works on the first go - it can take time for your body to adjust and react in the right way to all the medication. So I started mentally preparing myself to repeat the process.

The disorganization at Bichat made me reluctant to go through a second round there. The surgery experience, plus the long waits - sometimes over two hours - for ovulation monitoring (a blood test and pelvic scan), only added to my anxiety. I had to take a numbered ticket on arrival and then sit in a crowded waiting room with 40-50 other women, until my number was called. Sometimes there weren’t even any tickets and I had to keep an eye on who was before me, so I didn’t miss my turn. But I was already in the system, and nearing the age cut-off (43) for free IVF rounds in France. I feared switching hospitals might delay things for months.

In November 2023 I went through the second round at Bichat. It was a little better - they promised me a sedative for the procedure, and I had a clearer idea of what to expect. But the hormones still wreaked havoc on my body. This time they retrieved nine eggs, but again only one developed into an embryo. Again it didn't work. Feeling disillusioned with the hospital and my doctor, I said to Victor that I wanted to change. During our final consultation, the doctor also made it clear they wouldn’t pursue further treatment with me. I took that as her seeing me as a lost cause, but I wasn’t ready to give up. Oh how I'm so glad we switched!

I should mention that before starting the second round, we consulted a private gynecologist/ fertility specialist recommended to us by a friend. He tested us more thoroughly than Bichat ever had, including chromosome and genetic screening, none of which had been previously offered. Thankfully, the results were normal. He suggested trying artificial insemination, which didn’t work either, but it was reassuring to get a second opinion. Plus he was just so much nicer than our doctor at Bichat, reassuring us that we didn’t really, as far as he could tell, have anything wrong with us, apart from our age. He also gave us stories of hope - telling us about one woman who went through seven egg retrievals to get seven eggs and then took them to Spain for genetic testing (it’s illegal in France) and finally had a baby boy.

We managed to get an appointment at Bluets, a renowned maternity hospital with a strong IVF reputation. And it was an entirely different experience. It’s just a 10-minute drive from our home, and having proper appointments for ovulation monitoring (rather than waiting hours) made the process so much less stressful. I was usually in and out within 30 minutes.

They also introduced us to a new procedure called Matrice Lab that had been pioneered by a fertility doctor at the hospital. Since I’d had two failed embryo transfers, I qualified. The test analyzed the antibodies in my uterus to determine if my body was attacking the embryos as foreign objects. It was expensive (1000–1500€ and not covered by social security). It nvolved three excruciatingly-painful biopsies whereby they introduced catheters into my uterus with no local anesthetic. If my antibodies were high, I’d take hormone treatment for a month, then retest. The whole process took around four months, but the results finally gave us an answer: my antibody levels were indeed high. For the first time, we had a possible reason for why I wasn’t getting pregnant. It was a huge relief.

In June 2024, I underwent another egg retrieval and they retrieved 10 eggs. We also paid €500 extra for ICSI, where the best sperm is injected directly into the egg. This time two embryos developed, both graded B. They transferred one on Halloween morning. That evening, we had dinner with friends, and I remember saying how much I hoped it would work, as it would be a fun story to tell our future child!

Ten days later I went to get a blood test to see if it had worked. We were in Rouen finishing the last bits of the apartment renovation when I received the results by email. My hands shook as I opened it and I showed Victor as I didn’t understand the numbers. Luckily he did. My HCG levels were rising. I was in the early stages of pregnancy. I remember crying - from disbelief, exhaustion, joy… all of the emotions. A few days later, a follow-up test confirmed the levels had doubled. I was officially pregnant. But like anyone who’s gone through fertility treatment, I couldn’t help but wonder: how long will it last? Will the fetus grow? Will it be healthy?

And now, here I am - nearly 37 weeks pregnant - writing this with a fully-formed little miracle wriggling around, hiccuping and kicking in my belly. Please me send all the good vibes for a healthy and straightforward birth!

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Thank you for reading - if you’ve been through or are going through fertility treatment, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. I hope that sharing my story has been useful and given you hope! Marissa xx