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“Then you could say you tried everything. It’s worth it, isn’t it? It is.”
I didn’t want to do IVF. I have a strong ideological opposition to it. I believe that there are too many people already, I believe that if we can’t have children then perhaps we just aren’t meant to. I believe that the Universe decides.
But it did not stop me from wanting another child. All the cogent and logical argument available did not fill that little sinkhole inside me. It did not dismiss the look in my son’s eye when we said that we wished he had a brother or a sister.
IVF. A process that I understood to be fraught, costly, rigorous and, in many cases, unsuccessful. My Dad was kind, and firm. He felt that we should try just once – one round. He would pay for it and we would be able to say that we had done everything. I found that I wanted to be able to say that.
We made an appointment with Monash IVF. “The best in the world”, my Dad said. It felt like it, as I went to their offices and had a meeting with my baby doctor, Dr Nick. It felt like they knew exactly what they were doing.
Each nurse was kind and professional, cut from the same cloth. Were they hired because of that? Or does that job mould you? Looking into the eyes of hopeful, would-be parents. Taking so much blood, asking so many questions, reading through our endless paperwork.
We had to do a police check.
My husband looked at the forms and said, “It’s a pity that everyone who’s having a baby doesn’t have to do this.”
We had to fill out so many different forms, and agree to a great many costs. We had to make many appointments. We had to flag a multitude of dates. IVF is all about dates and timing and blood tests and sonograms.
