Considering treatment or being medically dependent on treatment to start your family can be a very daunting and exhausting experience. There’s the fear of the unknown, not knowing what to expect or if any of your experience from beginning to end will result in having a baby in the end.

I think much of that consideration is lost when going through the NHS or attending private clinics. Disappointments, setbacks and barriers can be told to you in such a matter of fact way. There’s no pause for how that feels for people, how it impacts their relationships, their external family or the knock-on effect it has on their life.

For myself and my husband, we knew from the beginning in being a queer couple that we would need assisted conception and fertility support in starting our family. The thought of starting the process to be potentially judged, experiencing microaggressions or being misunderstood was at the back of both of our minds and put us off from starting the process. It already felt like too much before it already began.

My health took a turn for the worst in early 2019, so we felt it was now or never about starting treatment and beginning to feel excited and hopeful about making our referral for fertility. That was in Feb 2019, thinking it would be around 9 months wait or so and nearly 2 years later and we’re just being able to be seen for the initial stages of starting our process. COVID-19 has definitely fucked up fertility treatment for a lot of people and couples who were at much later stages than us. The longer wait has definitely meant that the confidence and sense of assurance I had about myself and my body for the process has gone.

In the next two months, I’ll be signing documents, finding donors and having my body continuously tracked and monitored for treatment. Instead of feeling eager or excited for treatment to start, I’m feeling exhausted, anxious and a little scared. I feel a huge sense of loss that Riley, my husband, can’t attend appointments with me, even at the stage where possible conception can happen. I feel like I’m having to do the most integral and scary bits alone, which just amps up the pressure. I know Riley also feels down and isolated in having to watch from the side-lines and being given much opportunity at all.

I think this is also the reality and lived experience of others going through or considering fertility treatment during the pandemic. It’s hard to speak to others who have come before us as they’ve not accessed the service under these conditions. It brings a whole other layer of feeling isolated with fertility.

I’m trying to look after myself as much as possible, give myself time and space and try and recharge and replenish as much as I can before starting the next phase of treatment.