IVF clinics are not for the faint hearted. Before you even get started you have to contend with a truckload of baby photo collages all over the walls. I’m sure this is designed to keep you motivated and in truth it is kind of inspiring. The staff are just lovely but it does feel a bit like a cattle call. I’m waiting to get my bloods done and I’m staring at the photos on the wall wondering what it would take for me to have a photo of my son or daughter up on that board. It seems like the ultimate prize. Women come and go. It’s an early start, in my case the clinic I go to opens at 6am. Most of us are dressed ready to go to work but instead have a quick detour to the clinic on our way to work. Not quite like picking up a carton of milk on your way to the office. There’s a lot of nodding and wry smiles going on. No one really talks to each other though. We all know why we are here and we all want the same outcome. The clinic success rate stats are posted on the wall (just near the baby collage) and I do a quick calculation. 2 in 10 will get a positive result on their first go. A mental counts of heads suggests to me that there are about 26 women in this room that are going to have a very bad day sometime soon.
Bloods done, the next wait is for the doctor. I’m sitting beside a lady who is at 6.30am is drinking a rather large can of coke. Others are nursing takeaway coffees. I’ve got a bottle of water in my hand. No coke or coffee for me, my acupuncturist has been drinking herbs instead. I don’t at all feel smug that I know this and the others are drinking caffeine. I’d secretly love to swap my water bottle for a flat white but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m obsessed with doing absolutely everything I can that might make a difference and yet it is doing my head in. So much so that I wander what impact this is having on me. I don’t actually feel “stressed” as such. I don’t really feel anything. IVF clinics have this kind of numbing effect on me.