Cat Dean - Fertile thinking: Your practical and emotional aid through the trials of infertility...and beyond

fertile

THINKING

ANYA SIZER WITH CAT DEAN

fertile

THINKING

Your practical and emotional aid
through the trials of infertility
and beyond

Copyright Anya Sizer and Cat Dean, 2010

The right of Anya Sizer and Cat Dean to be identified as the authors of this book has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First published in 2010 by

Infinite Ideas Limited

36 St Giles

Oxford

OX1 3LD

United Kingdom

www.infideas.com

All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of small passages for the purposes of criticism or review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise, except under the terms of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 or under the terms of a licence issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 4LP, UK, without the permission in writing of the publisher. Requests to the publisher should be addressed to the Permissions Department, Infinite Ideas Limited, 36 St Giles, Oxford, OX1 3LD, UK, or faxed to +44 (0) 1865 514777.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-1-906821-55-5

eISBN 978-1-907755-29-3

Brand and product names are trademarks or registered trademarks of their respective owners.

Cover designed by Cylinder

Text designed and typeset by Nicki Averill

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Bell & Bain Ltd, Glasgow

Our grateful thanks go to Andrew Sercombe for championing the book from the start and allowing us to use his Powerchange exercises, to Mia Aimaro Ogden for her excellent editing, and to Julia Bueno, The London Womens Clinic, More to Life and INUK for their support and enthusiasm.

From Cat: To my friends and family, thank you for believing me when I said it would happen. Mike, I couldnt have done it without you. Thank you. And to Thomas for being my little inspiration.

From Anya: Thank you to everyone who helped us through, especially Romey, who always told me there would be a family out there we would just have to fight for it. This book is dedicated to my two miracles, Hope and Barney, who beat the odds to get here and were worth every part of the battle. To God, for getting me through. And to my husband and best friend who means the world to me. I love being a family with you.

My name is Anya Sizer and I am the proud mum of two IVF children - children we were given odds of 1 in 125,000 of ever conceiving. Six long years of infertility treatments, thousands of pills, hundreds of needles and five rounds of IVF later, we know that statistics dont always tell the whole story.

My journey began in January 2001 when, very excitedly, I came off the pill and looked forward to a few months of trying to conceive before the inevitable blue line appeared on the pregnancy test.

Eight months later, I had begun to get impatient and just a tiny bit apprehensive, so I managed to get our doctor to agree to some initial tests. A precaution, I thought, to reassure us that everything was okay. How wrong I was.

My initial blood-test results were normal, but there was a problem with my husband Damions sample - no sperm at all were detected - a condition called azoospermia. We were given the news by a doctor who, without looking up from his notes, simply said: Mr Sizer, you are completely infertile and it is highly unlikely you will ever have children.

That evening, Damion went to bed and pulled the duvet over his head, refusing to talk, while I launched into an Internet fact-finding mission exploring every possibility. Both of us felt isolated, sad and incredibly scared that the doctors words would be the end of the story. However, we soon entered the weird and wonderful world of assisted reproductive technology (ART).

From December of that year to May of the next, we both went through test after test; my hormone levels, womb lining and fallopian tubes were examined, and Damion underwent an exploratory operation to see why he wasnt producing any sperm. We also endeavoured to get ourselves into the best shape possible and followed a very specific healthy-eating plan, as well as both seeing counsellors and getting all the support available to us.

In June, we saw one of the UKs top gynaecologists to get advice on our next steps. He was kind but to the point. IVF (in vitro fertilisation) wouldnt work in our situation and our odds of conceiving through ART were approximately 1 in 125,000. In his opinion, our options were donor sperm or adoption only. The days that followed were bleak and, as a couple, we felt almost at breaking point. Why was this happening? Would we ever get through it?

We took a few weeks to reassess, and came to the unpopular (with others, that is) decision that 1 in 125,000 just might be worth a go. After all, what if we were that 1? So, in July 2002, we started our first IVF cycle.

It is hard to explain just how exhausting and overwhelming the whole process of IVF can be, and how much strength you need to keep going, both physically and emotionally.

During this first cycle, the doctors discovered that, in addition to Damions issues, I turned out to be what they describe as a poor responder. Put simply, my body didnt respond well to the drugs and I produced only four eggs - a small yield for someone in my age bracket. But again, we were determined that one egg and one sperm were all that was needed.

On the day of egg collection, Damion also had to have an operation, to see if any sperm could be found in his testes, a possibility even with azoospermia.

We almost expected to go home with bad news, but the impossible happened - not only were sperm found, but they were immediately injected into the four eggs that had been harvested from me. So somewhere downstairs in the hospital, in a small Petri dish, were four sets of potential life. Lying there, recovering from general anaesthetic, we were both absolutely stunned. We were in the race.

Then we began the two-week wait. I always found this time the hardest part of an IVF cycle. Finally, though, I bought a pregnancy test, and it really felt like life would never be the same, whatever the result. But two strong lines quickly appeared. I was pregnant. It had worked.

In April 2003, our daughter was born. There was only one name that really fitted: Hope. She was our first miracle, at odds of 1 in 125,000.

Eighteen months later, we began to think about extending our family and, for the next eighteen months, experienced one loss after another: one IVF miscarriage, two failed IVF cycles and, strangest of all, an unsuccessful natural pregnancy.

That time was hard and we felt increasingly desperate and isolated; some of our friends and family, understandably, began to wish we could just settle for the miracle we already had.

In December 2005, we decided to do our last IVF cycle before exploring adoption. This cycle was by far the most intense as not only had they diagnosed my poor response as an indicator of early menopause, but they had also detected a potential immune issue. With the azoospermia, too, this meant our odds were even worse than when we had begun.

Once again, I responded poorly to treatment, and twice during the cycle I was advised to consider giving up entirely. I felt this was the end of the line, but nonetheless I continued with the embryo transfer. This time, during the two-week wait, I felt nothing, and as I went into the clinic for the blood test, I told Damion I would call him later on to confirm it was a no.

To everyones amazement, not least mine, the pregnancy test was a very strong positive reading and, as I walked in to collect the results, the staff all cheered, knowing just how huge a battle we had won.