This article references miscarriage and baby loss.
I was diagnosed with endometriosis in my early twenties, after years of painful periods. The doctors told me that if I wanted to have a child, I’d have to really think about it – so I started trying for a baby with my partner right away. We’ve now been trying for eight years.
You’re generally only eligible to even be referred for IVF on the NHS if you’ve been trying for two years, so we waited until that point to go for a referral. Then COVID hit, and put everything to a halt. By the time we got to the top of the waiting list at Homerton Hospital in Hackney, it was 2022. Then the clinic suddenly closed. We didn’t know what had happened, and found out later that it was due to staff shortages. This was its second closure in four years, after an initial investigation surrounding their procedures.
We were offered a place to continue our treatment at another nearby NHS fertility unit [a spokesperson for Homerton Hospital confirms this was offered to a number of patients, and that the centre returned to normal working a few weeks later with the appointment of new staff members], but we didn't feel this was anywhere near adequate compensation for what we went through.
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I was starting to become worried that we were losing a lot of time. Years had passed since we started trying, and we were certain that we needed IVF by that point. So we went private, and put all of our savings into a round with the British Pregnancy Advisory Service Clinic in London, which at the time was England’s first not-for-profit fertility clinic. Then they halted operations too, and didn’t tell the public why. It was later revealed that they’d had financial struggles.
Around this time, Homerton’s clinic opened back up, and we finally began to embark on free-of-charge IVF. Then, in 2024, they closed again. There had been a scandal, in which it was revealed that they had lost lots of embryos. We were one of the couples whose embryos had been affected. We felt like we were at breaking point.
We couldn’t afford to pursue it privately anymore, because we’d put all the money we had into the first round. Mentally, I also felt that my trust in the NHS was completely gone. So we decided to move to France, because I’m a French citizen, so I can get IVF there for free. But it was a huge decision to take; my entire life had been in the UK since I was 16, my husband has never lived anywhere else, and he doesn’t speak French. I made the decision because I didn’t know what else to do. I’d had two hospitals close on me in the UK with no proper follow-up.
All your IVF questions, answered.
IVF was really hard on me, physically and emotionally. I think people tend to underestimate the strain. During the two egg retrievals, I got very sick with a dangerous condition called Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome, which causes fluid to leak into the abdomen and makes you very bloated. Liquid travelled to my legs, feet and hands, and I had painful blood clots. It was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life – the only way to describe it is like being stabbed thousands of times in your ovaries.
It’s also been very hard on my relationship. My body was the cause of our fertility issues, which can create feelings of guilt. I was the one juggling all the drugs and treatments alongside a high-pressure job. I was the one receiving the appointment letters and being addressed by the doctors, which I think made my husband feel excluded at times.
You end up asking yourself massive questions, like: what does our relationship mean in the long term if we don’t have a kid? Will you stay with me if it doesn’t happen? Will I stay with you? All those questions are super heavy. And when it comes to infertility, you’re thinking about forever. It’s a lot of pressure. And it becomes everything – you’re constantly waiting for the next appointment, the next round of meds or the next set of test results. You can’t do normal things like go on holiday. Sometimes it’s all you talk about.
When the scandal at Homerton came to light, and it was revealed that they had lost dozens of frozen embryos, we weren’t even contacted by the hospital. A friend WhatsApped me: “Have you seen what happened at Homerton?” After phoning up and getting no response, they eventually confirmed that we’d been affected. We had a total of five embryos stored in their facilities.
After that, we tried to transfer our embryos out, and luckily, it was confirmed that four embryos were present. We still supposedly have one embryo stored at Homerton, but we won’t know if that one has survived until they thaw it. We feel like we're stuck in limbo.
[A spokesperson for Homerton Hospital tells Glamour that the suspension was announced to the press by the HFEA at the same time as the Trust was informed.]
I’m not by any means at the end of my journey. I’ve had to restart in a new country with new medication and new protocols, and it’s brought new revelations.
It’s hard not to lose hope when you’re in it: when you keep having miscarriages, implantation failures, having doctors not listen to you and having to fight for the tests you need. But you know your body better than anyone else. I think it’s important to trust that feeling and to try to fight for answers, because you can't have successful IVF without answers as to why it’s not working.
Throughout this entire process, I’ve had an instinct that something was really wrong with my body, but I’ve rarely felt listened to. It took years to get my endometriosis diagnosis, and even more time to get a diagnosis of adenomyosis, a painful condition where the uterus lining grows into the uterus wall. Now, I’ve finally discovered that I may have an immunosuppressant illness, as well as a genetic problem, which might explain my fertility issues. It’s upsetting to think that my suspicions were never taken seriously.
At this point, I’m feeling tired, scared and sad. I feel scared that I’m never going to be a mother, and that, after eight years of trying, none of this is ultimately going to work. I’m scared about the answers that we’re still waiting on, and what they might mean for my future. And I’m grieving the life I could have had if I hadn’t faced these issues, and the person I used to be. I was always someone who loved babies and was always happy for friends when they got pregnant. Now seeing them causes a lot of pain. I’ve lost friendships along the way.
People often don’t understand how lonely this process can be. You wake up every day with these big questions in your head, you keep doing these injections, and go through the constant grief of losing embryos and babies, of things not working. It’s soul-crushing. Even talking about it makes me want to cry.
But I’m still trying to be hopeful. It’s important that as people going through it, we remember that there are actually a lot of us, despite societal silence and taboo. And it’s okay to struggle and not feel great about the process all the time. I want people to know that they’re not alone.
A statement on behalf of Homerton Hospital reads, "Following the suspension of fertility services at the Trust in March 2024 by the HFEA, Homerton carried out full independent reviews into the causes of the three incidents which occurred in the Fertility Centre during 2023. The reviews’ findings were shared with both the HFEA and the patients affected by the incidents. The HFEA reinstated the Centre’s licence to operate in August 2024.
“The Homerton Fertility Clinic reopened last year [2024] under new leadership, and following a thorough assessment, the HFEA reinstated its licence. Our adherence to high clinical and regulatory standards is under constant internal governance and external assessment by the HFEA and is in compliance.”
Heidi Stewart, BPAS Chief Executive, said to Glamour: “There has been a significant change in leadership at BPAS since 2023, and as a healthcare provider we are unable to comment on individual patient experiences. BPAS recognises that the closure of our not-for-profit fertility service was an extremely difficult and distressing time for patients. The decision to close the service was taken following careful consideration of a range of operational and financial factors. We worked to ensure that patients were supported to transfer their care to alternative providers as smoothly as possible. Where information was not communicated as clearly or promptly as it should have been, we sincerely apologise.”
“I'll never forget those who revisited their own grief to help me with mine.”
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