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My Family, My Future, My NHS
Next year I will turn 40 and celebrate 10 years of marriage. I plan to celebrate both with a trip to Alton Towers and CeeBeebies Hotel. Not, perhaps, the most romantic of getaways but it will satisfy the children and they, as always, must come first.
Just before we got engaged, I had a serious “talk” with hubby along the lines of, 'I’m leaving. I’ve been offered a job, it’s 200 miles away and I’m taking it. So, I need to know, we’ve been dating four months, but how serious are we? There’s no point carrying on if we’re not serious. Oh, and I want a baby. It’s a deal breaker. No baby, no “us”. What do you want?' After he recovered and choked back his reply, we worked out a plan. On our one-year anniversary, having met on dating service - Smooch.com - he proposed with the question, 'Would you like to wear a new ring tonight?' The wedding was perfect. I’d imagined it just so when I was 17. I had planned to get pregnant straight away. When that didn’t happen, it became the greatest challenge of our marriage.
There’s no reason why we couldn’t get pregnant. Every test the doctors did came back normal. I was diagnosed with “unexplained infertility”. Oh, how I wished for an explanation to hang onto. A reason why. So many people tried to help with phrases like “Just keep practising”, which did nothing for my self-esteem (was it possible I wasn’t doing it right?). I would cry myself to sleep. Having a child may have been out of reach but it made us stronger, brought us closer. We were put on the IVF list. After a year we were offered the chance to go to Edinburgh Royal Infirmary for our miracle. So we crossed our fingers, took a deep breath, and dived in.
We had a 40% chance of success. I had to do injections every day into my stomach and attend the clinic for internal scans every 2-3 days. The science is incredible. So exact and completely spell binding. To think such a tiny dot can become a real life. A real person with feelings, opinions and thoughts. A bit obvious I know but when I saw my first born on a tv screen as literally seven circles (seven cells) it was mind blowing. The embryologist brought him into the room in the thinnest tube and joked that he better not drop the embryo on the floor. I say joked but there was a lot of truth in it too, so hubby was told on no account was he to move “AT ALL”. I truly owe the existence of both my children to the NHS.
We were incredibly lucky with a huge haul of 6 embryos. For so many people IVF may bring no embryos at all. Riley, my first son, desperate for life to begin was implanted three days after my eggs were harvested and his embryo conceived in a petri dish. The remaining 5 embryos were cryogenically frozen as our backup policy. Sounds cool. I hope two-year-old Ethan agrees when he’s old enough to tell. Would that make him a superhero? I’ll not say the birth was easy. It was traumatic. Forceps, third degree tear, massive blood loss and a baby who couldn’t latch on left me an emotional wreck. The NHS most certainly saved both my life and that of my son. I cried the day I had to leave hospital overwhelmed by it all.
Over time I felt ready to try for a second child. Shocked, I found I still could not get pregnant. Secondary infertility sounds a lot easier than primary infertility but with a toddler in tow I was now surrounded by babies at every group I went to. Many think me ungrateful to be so desperate for a baby when I had a healthy child at my feet but I couldn’t help it. My emotions were hardwired and hormones are difficult beasts to tame. Until I realised how much I wanted another child I had no idea how it felt. You feel positively desperate to hold another new-born and yet, surrounded by them, you can’t bear to touch or look at a baby for fear of grabbing them and running out the door.
I started thinking back to those embryos locked in suspended animation. Like something out of a science fiction novel. It wasn’t long before we were back on the waiting list but this time for embryo transplants not IVF. This time I had pills, suppositories and false menopause to contend with, plus the prospect of paying for each cycle as NHS Scotland only funds the first baby. The first two tries miscarried. I must admit I wasn’t prepared for this. I thought it would work first time round like before. It’s difficult to feel sad for a baby who never existed while at the same time thankful for the toddler who only exists because of science.
Sometimes, like I’ve discovered many times in life, you have to give up before your dreams come true. On my third try, I couldn’t believe I was pregnant again. I didn’t make it public until 20 weeks. I thought I lost Ethan twice in the first 12. Then he arrived 4 weeks early with a true knot in the umbilical cord. With such a dramatic entrance it was rather funny to see a 5lb 6oz new-born in clothes size 3-6 months, the clothes hubby grabbed in our mad dash to throw together a hospital bag.
So, there it is. My family is complete and thanks to NHS doctors, nurses, midwives and embryologists I have my family and future secured. Because my family is my future. Next year I plan to take a trip to Alton Towers to celebrate. It’s as much for the kids as for the grownups. My family’s future is bright. I owe it all to the NHS. Thank you.