Meet Instagram’s IVF Warriors

What do you do when all of your friends can get pregnant but you can’t? Who do you turn to? This was the situation I found myself in over the last six months in the run-up to IVF. Because, after two-and- a-half years of trying and failing, I felt like I was the last woman standing.

Yes, you have your partner, but when you’re both feeling a sense of shame and sadness, leaning on each other just cranks up the pressure. Family and friends are there, but often find it hard to know what to say. I felt I was becoming a burden in my failure. So, to channel my emotions, I wrote a book, processing the years of dismay into a comedy called TRYING. It was cathartic, but a solitary pursuit. So I hit up message boards, searching for women like me but, as every PMS ache was spun into (false) early pregnancy symptoms, they became a hotbed of medical neuroses.

Then one day, a recommendation popped up in my Instagram feed: follow @IVFBabble. I looked at their burgeoning feed – a couple of friends, Sara and Tracey, who struggled with fertility and eventually both had IVF twins. They’d newly set up a resource for people like me, even launching a pin to raise awareness for those feeling alone in the process. It was in the shape of two pineapples – the jokey symbol for fertility since eating it apparently makes an embryo ‘take’ in your womb. Then there was Emma Cannon, a holistic therapist whose account and book Fertile, would guide me through some of the self-care pitfalls of weathering the injections and potential failure.

But it was when I fell down a rabbit hole of hashtags such as #infertilitysucks that I realised Instagram, instead of being the glossy shop window of perfection I’d assumed, was being used by women as a raw outpouring of their fertility journeys. Women like CNN anchor Hannah Vaughan Jones, who was documenting every step of her seventh round of IVF. That resulted in her first pregnancy and then, sadly, just a couple of weeks before we met, a miscarriage. And Amber Woodward, who embarked on treatment the very same week as I did and documented it with deadpan wit- and is now bravely telling the world that she's 10 1/2 weeks pregnant.

These women didn’t realise what an impact they were having on my life. When I was feeling hormonal and low, they were there with me. If I didn’t know the answer to a question, they’d post something informative to explain away the doubts. They were holding my hand through the bruising injections, the woozy anaesthetic of egg collection day, the angst-ridden wait of embryo development and the delay of having to have a frozen round because I was suffering ovarian hyperstimulation, without ever having even met me. I was no longer a burden to friends.

This week, my book makes its entrance into the world. It will hopefully remind people experiencing this that they are very much not alone. And as I prepared for the second half of my suspended treatment, I met my IVF warriors to say thank you.

Meeting them all felt oddly natural considering I’d had little contact, bar a couple of messages before the day. I ran into Sara on the train, after I noticed her pineapple pin – that sense of recognition she always wanted when her own IVF failed. As we wandered to the studio, it was as if I’d bumped into an old friend. Tracey joined us and her story and rambunctious twins made me feel hopeful for the future. I was so pleased to finally speak to Amber, as I felt bad for lurking on her hilarious Instagram account while she knew nothing about me. I soon realised we had more in common than just our IVF dates – she too could see the funny side of going through this testing time and I felt buoyed by her success.

When I sat down with Hannah, I was blown away by her poise but also her softness. I expected a steely news anchor, instead, I saw a wonderfully caring woman who continues to battle and I look forward to sharing the onward journey with her. I’m booked in to see Emma for acupuncture, and was absorbed by her energy.

Having those faces together in one room, people who I’d witnessed in some of their most vulnerable moments, was so powerful. I know I’ll have good friends from here on, who understand what I’m going through. I hope they’ll all be at my book launch, too.

The IVF Warriors

Amber Woodward

Amber, 34, is a civil servant. She’s been trying for a baby for over three years and posting her experiences on thepreggerskitchen.com.

'I only have one friend who knows about my account – there’s some quite personal stuff on there, especially about sex. Most people don’t actually know I’m pregnant yet, so this will be a surprise!

'Meeting everyone was surreal and special. It’s comforting to share stories with others who’ve been through the same struggles. We expose intimate aspects of our lives online, so when you meet in person you don’t feel like strangers. It feels like you’re on to your second bottle of wine during your 20th date!

'It was fabulous meeting Emily – and crazy to think we went through IVF at the same time. I can’t wait to read her book – we need more humour when discussing infertility. Too often, it’s all melancholy and those of us suffering don’t need help with the tears, it’s cracking a smile that’s tricky. I hope we’ll all stay in touch. I’ll be following their journeys, whether they know it or not'

Hannah Vaughan Jones

Hannah, 36, CNN International news anchor. She and her husband Lewis documented their seventh round of IVF in a video diary.

'"Brave" has been the overwhelming comment we’ve received but, if anything’s brave, it’s when you’re doing things quietly on your own, because it’s scary and unknown. Doing the diary was a way of sharing the burden.

'This round was my first pregnancy. Being so public, people over-share at inopportune moments. Someone sent me a picture of their 12-week scan, when I hadn’t yet done a video diary to say that I’d miscarried.

'This shoot was a really cathartic experience. Talking to Emily and the other ladies about shared experiences highlighted how much we have in common, how we can all empathise with each other’s situation, but also how no one situation can be mirrored in another. I felt con dent at the end of the shoot, pleased to have met people who understand me. People who sympathised when I explained my marathon (and thus far unsuccessful) journey, without being patronising or shying away from me. I noticed that all the women were strong, ambitious, often funny, self-deprecating types.

'I guess it goes to show that, success or failure, you need to remember how to laugh and smile and find the light in all the darkness.'

Emma Cannon

Emma, 49, is an integrated fertility specialist and acupuncturist and the author of a number of books, including her most recent, _Fertile_Fertile**.**

'This experience con rmed to me why Instagram is such an important forum for women struggling to conceive or struggling with other issues. As a fertility specialist, I have found it a place to share my ideas and reach out to women who may not be able to come to my clinic.

'Every conversation I had was open and honest and sometimes raw. This is so refreshing, because I think in the past women have not always supported one another. I think gathering together showed me that the sisterhood is strong and women are beginning to appreciate that together we are stronger. This is a huge and important step for women; collaboration not competition. Just knowing that other women feel the same goes some way to ease the isolation. It was lovely to meet Emily and the others. I have spent many years listening to women’s fertility stories in my clinic, sharing in their hopes and dreams and supporting them in their time of need.'

Sara Marshall Page and Tracey Bambrough

Sara, 43, and Tracey, 50, set up IVFBabble.comIVFBabble.com as a resource for couples having IVF after their own experiences.

Sara: 'It took me four years to conceive (my twins are now seven), and I knew no one doing IVF and got support from nowhere. When I went through it, I was embarrassed. I said to my husband, ‘Don’t tell anyone they’re IVF,’ when the girls were born. But people need to know that infertility is nothing to be ashamed of. Today was so special. I walked into a room of strangers, but missed all of them the second I left. We drank coffee, had our make-up done and picked out clothes while sharing the heartache we've suffered, our determination and, for some, our bloody lucky success stories. It's crazy to think it started with a few "likes", but after just a few months of Instagram, there we were, sharing such personal stories face to face, and it felt totally natural. Friendships have been made and I will not let these go.'

Tracey: 'I was 47 when I had twins. They said I had a 2% chance but we just went for it. I thought about the journey I’d been through, all the misdiagnoses and waiting rooms and devastated people I’d seen and I thought there was a need for people to be able to talk to each other. I’d gone a whole decade of trying and hadn’t spoken to anyone except Sara. With IVFBabble and our pineapple pins, we’ve dedicated ourselves to breaking the silence.

'The shoot was a unifying experience – to know we all understood each other despite the fact we were all at different stages on our fertility journey. It was fantastic to realise we are helping people. That’s all we wanted from the start.'

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