The true cost of IVF

I don't even buy lottery tickets because they don't refund you if you don't win. Just too risky for me! But my biggest ever bet was £30,000. An expensive gamble, leaving it up to science and magic in equal measure.

But the financial cost of IVF doesn't even touch the surface of the true cost. I'm not talking about the extras, like acupuncture or supplements. I'm talking about what it does to a woman, long term. The stuff nobody really mentions.

Because there's a list that doesn't come from the clinic. The one that starts compiling itself, without really noticing, while you're just trying to get through it.

I turned down the dream job. The right decision, definitely, and I knew what I was doing and I'd make it again. But it was still a no because of where I was with trying to conceive. And alongside that, we were newly married. We should have been booking holidays, being spontaneous, living like it. Instead we were deep in medical appointments and loss, and none of that happened. I didn't even realise I was grieving that chapter until much later.

There was a friend whose wedding I missed. Last minute, just after a transfer, when I had nothing left and was scared and couldn't explain why. She didn't understand and the friendship took a hit, the guilt of which stayed with me long after everyone had moved on. It's hard to be a good friend and go through IVF. Most people don't tell you that either.

My body, ugh. I was disgusted by it, if I'm honest. It felt like it had failed at the one thing it was created to do. I stopped trusting it completely, stopped believing in it. That relationship with my own body took a long time to repair, and I'm not sure anyone warned me it would need repairing at all.

And then there's the mental health cost. The confidence that recurring miscarriages quietly sapped away, so slowly I didn't notice it happening. By the time I did, I was already operating as a much smaller version of myself, at work, in relationships, everywhere. The ambitious, confident woman I'd been before felt like someone I used to know.

None of this is meant to put anyone off. IVF gave me my child and I'd do it all again tomorrow. But I think we do a disservice to women going through treatment when we only talk about the physical and financial costs. The real cost is quieter than that and often lasts much longer than the bills take to pay. It shows up in the opportunities you don't take, the plans you don't make, the version of yourself you quietly set aside while you focus on just getting through it.

I’ve noticed that most of the women I work with didn't even realise the cost whilst they were paying it. They were too busy surviving, focussed on just getting pregnant and staying pregnant. It's only when they come up for air, that something snaps or breaks or they’ve just had enough, that they can see how much this is costing them.

If any of this is your list too, please know you're not failing. I thought I was, and I was wrong. This is just the truth of it and it's really, really hard.

For me, it got to a point where I could feel my career slipping away and I just refused to let that happen. I'd worked too hard for it. Miscarriage had taken enough, it wasn't having that as well. So I worked really hard on rebuilding my confidence and my career. It wasn't easy but I did it.

And now I help other women do the same. I give them the space to come up for air and focus on what they can actually do about it, without pretending what they're going through isn't happening.

I’M RUNNING A FREE WEBINAR ON TUESDAY 21ST APRIL, 12.30-1.30PM ON CAREER CONFIDENCE DURING IVF

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