Written by Sophie D. Reviewed by Jessica Hobbis, Head of Brand at OVUM. 

This blog is part of the Stories from the OVUM Community series, which explores the lived realities of fertility through four lenses. Biology, Beliefs, Boundaries and Belonging. Each piece shares a different, personal perspective from our community.

The following story is from Sophie D. She lives in Berkshire and has been trying to conceive for 5 years. 

Jessica Hobbis is OVUM’s Head of Brand. She’s been working in women’s health for over 4 years, and is passionate about creating a world where women’s health is seen, researched, and valued. She is so proud to run the Good Eggs community, bringing together like-minded people who are determined to help make change and positively influence the fertility space. 

Biology

I can picture the moment when we received our unexplained infertility diagnosis. I remember thinking to myself, ‘That’s ridiculous. There MUST be a reason.’ We’re still searching for that reason, but we have not lost hope.

Our journey has had many obstacles: we have had an ectopic pregnancy, IVF with 2 unsuccessful frozen embryo transfers and most recently, a missed miscarriage. We’re about to start IVF again with a new clinic, and whilst I’m nervous, I feel ready.

Our first IVF consultation felt like the eureka moment. The consultant told us that I had a great egg reserve and that my husband had millions of swimmers. We’d get enough embryos in the freezer to have as many children as we wanted. Woohoo! 

Unfortunately, that was not our reality. I have polycystic ovaries, and the medication to prepare me for egg collection sent them into overdrive. At my final scan before the egg collection, they told me my ovaries were so large that they were touching one another. Whilst I should have been concerned, I was elated. I wanted as many eggs as possible. We managed to get 30 eggs, which I know is a lot: but anyone who has been through IVF knows, the 5-day wait after to see if the eggs are developing into embryos is absolute torture. The embryologist called me with an update and told me my eggs ‘were not the best looking.’ A lot of them were not mature, so they could not be used. I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I had done all of these injections for not a single chance at a baby. I felt lucky after eventually being told we had two embryos in the freezer. 

I remember talking to my reflexologist about my egg quality and what I could do to support it. How she explained it stuck with me - “Sophie, your eggs are stored in a warehouse. You get them when you are born, and that’s your lot. Men’s sperm is a factory, producing new semen every 3 months. You have to work with the hand you’ve been dealt.” There are things you can do to support your egg health, and that’s when she recommended OVUM. 

An OVUM note

it's worth remembering that egg count is only one part of the picture, and not something to worry about in isolation. Egg quality, uterine health, hormone balance, sperm health and timing all play a role in fertility outcomes. Growing evidence also suggests preconception nutrition may support how eggs develop and mature in the months before conception or IVF, which means more may be within your influence than it can sometimes feel.

Belief

I’ve always wanted to be a mother. I remember being at secondary school, talking to friends about how many children we would have and by what age. My husband and I did things the ‘right’ way. We got married, bought a house big enough for a nursery, then started trying. A lot of my friends were trying for a baby at the same time, and we would talk about being pregnant together and planning all the playdates we would have. A lot of those friends have gone on to have multiple children, and I’m still clinging to the hope of our first.

After about 2 years of trying, I started to ask myself questions I could never answer, and realistically, they were just damaging. ‘Is this karma?’ was a big one, due to the abortion I had when I was 18. It was an accident and the wrong time in my life, but no amount of reasoning made me feel better. Another, which still pops up when I least expect it, is, ‘What will our life be like if we don’t have children?’ That one scares me, and one I’m hoping we won’t have to answer.

It’s taken me a long time to realise I have been pinning my self-worth on the ability to conceive. Every negative test made me feel like a failure, the pressure building slowly and silently. I have an incredible support network who have helped me realise that I am more than my fertility journey. I’ve recently moved into a career that gives me moments of joy and job satisfaction, which took a back seat for a long time. I hit the pause button in a lot of areas in my life, ‘just in case’ I was pregnant. Now, I take a deep breath and do it without too much thought. Not once have I ever regretted the decision to do something since. It could be a glass of wine with a friend, or booking a trip, but they have given me beautiful, colourful memories in a time that has sometimes felt grey.

Boundaries

Advocating for yourself can be difficult, but it is so important. For nearly all my friends, I have gone to their showers or gender reveals. I wanted to and felt in a headspace where I could go and celebrate with them. However, there have been times I’ve had to decline invitations. I felt terrible, but not as terrible as if I had gone and been unable to really share in their joy. I’ve found meeting up with them afterwards feels much more manageable, with less pressure.

I have also come to understand you are likely to feel opposite emotions when friends or family announce they are pregnant. I have screamed down the phone before out of pure elation for my friend, followed about an hour later by me crying on the sofa, sorrowful. Both can exist at the same time, and that is okay. What’s important is to be kind to yourself: I’ve developed a routine for announcements. Firstly, I share in their joy. Then, I let myself feel however I want to. I grab the dog, get a coffee and some fresh air, come back and sit in the bath. I have a different one for when I get my period, I get a big cookie and online shop for something I’ve wanted that month.

Boundaries look different for everyone, and sometimes you don’t know what yours are until they’ve been crossed. The important thing is to recognise what is too much for you and be okay with putting yourself first. You are doing the best that you can, and that is enough. 

Belonging

Fertility can be lonely. I am incredibly lucky that any time I have needed to talk, my support network has been there to listen. I know if I were in the networking groups, trying to conceive would completely take over my life, but that being said, I know they bring a lot of help to a lot of people. I don’t think I see myself reflected in fertility conversations, and that’s okay; everyone’s journey is different.

Our journey has taught me a lot - I am resilient, my body is strong, and I am determined. These things don’t guarantee us a baby, but they do remind me that even in the hardest moments, there is still hope, love, and strength carrying us forward.

Beyond the blog:

• ‘It starts with the egg’ is a great book if you are interested in nutrition and supporting your egg health.

• Reflexology is one of my favourite times of the week. I feel my whole body relax after a session, and I have them once a fortnight, which I find supports my overall wellbeing. 

• Screenme offers vaginal microbiome and seminal culture tests. We found out a huge amount from them, so I would highly recommend them for any point in your journey.