IVF & LGBTQ+

Our IVF journey was a year and a half in the making after the postcode lottery that is.

We should feel lucky that we got one round of IVF on the NHS but it also shouldn’t feel like we only have once chance to make our dreams come true. I have stage 3 endometriosis, we had no sperm and my egg reserves were so low that they even questioned whether IVF would have any success rate for us at all. Our fertility clinic were incredible, they walked us slowly through every step and made space to answer any questions that we had along the way.

They would always shout ‘Carys and Tasha’ from the waiting room rather than just me, that made us feel like we were both a part of this journey and not just me as the carrying mother.

That made Tash feel comfortable and included, these little things make a difference to the journey you take through IVF as a same sex couple.

We were not armed with all the information we needed to be before we began our IVF journey with our fertility clinic, the information wasn’t really out there on sperm donors, same sex TTC mummy’s and we were quite naive in the fact that we hoped so deeply for success that we practically believed it would happen before it even did.

Choosing a sperm donor was exciting but scary too.

If we get our rainbow baby in the future, they will be able to contact the sperm donor when they turn 18. This scared us a little but we understood the benefits to it too. This became a reality for us when we got our two lines on that magic little stick. We have never been so overjoyed, excited, nervous and lucky all at once and it was beautiful for as long as it lasted.

We lost our little one in the hospital and it was so so scary. The worst part was, they didn’t treat me like a mum and they didn’t treat Tash like a mum.

Miscarriages were quite clearly their everyday to which you’d imagine their care would be impeccable but it was far from. It certainly was not our every day and we were so frightened. They were focused on my health care as I lost Poppy but that meant that my fiancé didn’t get the acknowledgement as her mummy the way I so hoped she would.

The first time we attended A&E the doctor asked us how far along we were to which I replied – 6 weeks. She argued with me about how that wasn’t possible because of when I conceived through IVF. Arguing with a doctor about the age of our little one was exhausting and made us question ourselves and should not be where a doctor’s head first goes when I come to them vulnerable and heartbroken.

I felt confused and like we weren’t being listened to when we needed to be listened to the most.

That same doctor walked in confused to see two women, another mistook her for my sister and it was a long while before anyone simply just asked “who are you with today Carys?” That would have been easy for them to do and at that point I’d have been able to acknowledge the wonderful mother that my future wife would have made. I felt lonely in a room full of doctors and nurses because they didn’t make space for her to hold my hand and stand beside me.

We had a truly horrible experience at our local hospital and I don’t know if our care would have been different had I been with a man but I certainly know that I did not know enough about the care that you should receive during and after a miscarriage. But I know now that what they did was not good enough and we deserved better. Our little angel deserved better.

Being in a same sex relationship shouldn’t feel like another boundary to our future in becoming parents, but it does.

I love Tash and I know one day, in whatever way it happens for us, she will make a blooming wonderful mother.

We want better care for anyone going through miscarriage and baby loss. And to our same sex mummies, we know it’s tough but you are not alone.