“I was one of those good Christian girls who only had sex after marriage. With just one guy! All that waiting to find out I have a blocked fallopian tube.”
Give this a spin while you read Kaia’s story. It’s dreamy and sets the perfect mood.
Kaia’s had so many medical procedures to understand her body. She started by having radioactive ink pulsed into her uterus to help spot problems and has run the gamut to IVF, in which the sperm fertilises the egg outside the body and the artificially-created embryo is returned to the womb to gestate (hopefully. Although it’s roughly a 30 per cent success rate and the older you get, the more that goes down).
“I never thought it could be infertility. But if that’s your path, be prepared to lose your dignity. More than 30 strangers have looked at my vulva: before that, it was only my husband.
“The radioactive ink was one of the worst; it’s like an internal pressure washer. They found a blockage but it was so achy and uncomfortable to the point where my vagina contracted and wouldn’t let the speculum go: I ended up in a cold sweat from the foreign stuck object in me. And guess what? I start laughing because they’re asking me to relax and I don’t know if I can. It’s awful comedy.”
But after the comedy, reality surges.
“I remember being in pain, crying and thinking ‘what have I done that means this is what I have to go through for just a 30 per cent chance of getting pregnant?’.”
The doctors put Kaia on Clomid, a drug that causes the body to release hormones needed to stimulate ovulation.
“It left me with all the symptoms of pregnancy without being pregnant: it was a mindfuck. Eventually, I got signed off to do IVF but I’d tell anyone thinking about it to do their tests privately: I wasted a year and a half dicking around.
“The biggest downside is you’re left to do the injections on your own. It makes me wonder whether there’s any consistency across the different manufacturers: there are three different processes, three different kinds of needles. They’re trusting me to do something this important? I could be the reason I’m not getting pregnant.
“I took part in an IVF injection focus group with other women sitting in the same weird rollercoaster of emotions who’d managed to convince themselves it was a privilege to be doing this. I question that. It’s probably their form of self-preservation, sort of like if you believe you’re doing the right things for your body it won’t fuck with your head so much and maybe you’ll get pregnant.”
Kaia’s met a lot of other people in the same boat as her, less willing to talk about it. Because it’s not just you who could be broken. It takes two to tango, right?
“It can be a strain on our marriage: having sex is not fun any more. When you have so much you need to prepare and it loses some of the magic of spontaneity. But with that comes practicalities. I have a friend who sleeps on a wet spot. Why do we allow that to happen?! Have a conversation with your partner, at least put a fucking towel down; sperm is gross and cold wet spots do not make for a good night’s sleep. If you can’t talk about that you’re not going to have an open conversation about other things.
“When you feel like you’re a failure it can ruin intimacy for both of you. There’s nothing so clinical as knowing your husband has to go jack off and bring back a sample, so you have to find a way to rebuild intimacy after.
“My way of coping is sharing, I like connecting with others and sharing my experience, whereas he’s quite a pragmatic sensitive man and takes a lot of the burden without complaint. I wonder how I got so lucky, meeting him in a bar.”
Kaia and her husband had their first baby and, with four more embryos left, are now trying for a second. She knows there’s an assumption she should feel ‘lucky’ to have one baby, but that’s not her view at all.
“He could die – and there’s no better way to sink a relationship than a dead child. I also don’t want my kid to be a callous only child; siblings are good for building character and making sure at least one kid will visit you when you’re 80.
“Infertility is a test of my faith, sure. I’m not a prissy person who thinks they’re beyond reproach.
“Hope is important but I manage it quite well, I like the idea of being hopeful, but I’d rather be pleasantly surprised than disappointed. I know that God has a plan for us no matter what.
“There’s a verse I love:
No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.
Corinthians 10:13
“Christian culture can be a dangerous thing when it comes to controlling and giving people rules: IVF is even considered taboo in some parts of the church. But my relationship with God gives me strength – he’s not going anywhere, it’s only me who’ll leave.”
I really really feel for you, I decided not go down the IVF path after already having gone through so much indignity. It is a brave path to go down and I hope for further success for you. x