By Emma Kemsley
At what point do you stop IVF? After two failed cycles? Three, four, six? The truth is, once you start, it’s hard to stop. I was staring down the needle of my tenth IVF. Should I try one final cycle or should I pull the progesterone plug?
Albert Einstein famously said: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” He was right. Why would this cycle be any different to the last?
And then I did it. Something I never thought I’d do. I quit IVF.
There comes a point where you need to be realistic. When the reality of the situation finally gives in to the ‘what if’. I’d exhausted the protocols. I was in and out of hospital with ovarian infections. My endometriosis was raging due to hormone stimulation. Finances were dwindling. And for what? Nothing but an imaginary child. I was spending tens of thousands every year on a make-believe scenario. There was no guarantee of success. My IVF was no different to a gambling addiction.
I couldn’t bear to put my life on hold any longer. Time was passing me by as I waited in the shadows of fertility treatment. I wanted to break free from the shackles of my damaged ovaries and live again. I was tired of seeing my finances vanish into thin air. I wanted to enjoy my income without feeling guilty about booking a trip or buying new shoes.
My consultant laughed when I told him it was over. For context, we have a great relationship, and he knows how strong-willed and stubborn I am. “You’ll be back,” he said. “It’s like crack. You can’t stop.” “No, I won’t,” I replied as I merrily skipped out of his office. I was free.
There was no round of applause (though I did consider throwing a ‘I quit IVF shower’), but I felt happier and lighter. I could make plans again, and they didn’t need to evolve around my period.
Moving abroad
A relocation abroad was always on the agenda. My husband, dog Fletcher and I had lived in Ibiza for a year in 2016, prior to starting IVF. We knew the Mediterranean lifestyle is what we wanted. Coffee breaks in the sunshine. Ending the working day with a dip in the sparkling sea. It no longer needed to be a dream; we had the opportunity to make it our reality.
Over the following year, we road tripped around Europe researching potential new homes. Initially we intended to move to Barcelona but sometimes life has other plans. Our relocation misfortunes could fill a drama series; from a trashed 1820s Catalonian apartment to credit card cloning in Italy, the journey was as a tragicomedy in motion.
However, six years of IVF have made me stronger. I let the disasters crash over me. I picked myself up and carried on. I used my newfound wisdom. Instead of persistently pushing a move to Barcelona, I changed strategy. Quitting isn’t so bad. In fact, it can be positively life changing. And that’s how I find myself here today. In the beautiful Basque city of San Sebastian.
Life in San Sebastian
The northern Spanish city of San Sebastian, a short distance from the French border, is world-famous for its food and surf. Culinary artisans’ wield spatulas like wands, turning ingredients into gastronomic masterpieces. You’re never far from a Michelin star. However, it’s the traditional wooden bars lined with pintxos which steal the limelight. Tiny plates of deliciousness are created using local seasonal produce, usually served on a small piece of fluffy baguette.
San Sebastian is coastal city living at its finest. Three powder sand beaches and glistening century old buildings which create a maze of streets, housing cool cafes, traditional bars and independent boutiques. While the aroma of coffee fills the air and terraces are a buzz with diners, surfers take to the water, chasing waves from dawn to dusk.
We quickly found ourselves adjusting to the Spanish way of life. Succumbing to a new but welcomed daily routine. Slow mornings sipping coffee on the terrace before starting work. Long lunches where food is enjoyed and not rushed. Evenings spent outside sipping wine with friends, no matter the weather. Later bedtimes and a full night’s sleep.
My exercise regime changed too. Here, fitness is seen as enjoyment and not a chore. I used to rush to a gym class before work or despise a workout after closing the laptop. Now exercise is part of my daily routine; long dog walks on the beach, boxing classes and surf lessons. I say surf, I spend most of my time under the water feeling like I am in a washing machine.
It’s true what they say, a change really is as good as a rest
Since relocating to Spain almost a year ago, I have noticed a significant improvement in my health. Previously, my stage 4 endometriosis affected my life daily. Pain was frequent and controlled by opioids, and my bowel and colon was hugely impacted. It caused awful symptoms and daily bleeding.
Today, my endometriosis symptoms are almost non-existent. I am pain free and my digestive system is functioning normally for the first time in eight years. I can eat red meat and pasta without crippling over in pain. I lived a healthy lifestyle in the UK, but I believe a slower pace of life, good quality produce (this was recently confirmed by my endo consultant during a check-up), fresh sea air and inner contentment is working its magic.
I am big fan of cold-water swims too. In addition to my weekly tango with the tide, I try to bravely dunk myself into the cold sea a few times a week. It’s certainly helped to alleviate pain and reduce inflammation.
A moment of honesty
Stopping IVF and relocating has undeniably changed my life for the better. However, it’s not all sunshine and seashells. There have been incredibly hard moments. Moving to a different country is difficult, stressful and expensive. Making friends is like speed dating with social anxiety – I’ve asked for telephone numbers face to face, cringe!
A few months after we moved into our apartment, I found myself out of sorts. While I was enjoying my day to day, I had a rumbling unsettled feeling. I lost my mum in 2022 so I presumed it was grief, but I don’t think it was that alone. Then it hit me. This was the first time since starting IVF in 2018, that I had time to digest everything that had happened. I suddenly had time and space to think.
My immediate reaction was panic. Had I made a mistake? Maybe we needed a child after all? I contemplated the idea of surrogacy. I arranged a call with a company to discuss the prospect. It didn’t feel right. I’d simply be repeating the same mistakes at a higher cost.
The feeling I was experiencing was recovery. Recovering from the trauma, the grief and the pain. My head needed to catch up with my body. And as I suspected, over time the feeling disappeared. It was replaced by a sense of calm. A feeling I could’ve only have ever hoped for in the depths of IVF.
Finally letting go of IVF for good
is equally the most rewarding and scariest thing I have ever done. If you’re in this position, I understand every emotion you are feeling, but I promise it will be ok. Quitting isn’t failing, it’s winning. And if it helps, I had a craving for spaghetti vongole last week, so I booked a flight to Italy because I can. I am child free, IVF free and able to treat myself to whatever I want. If I can pay £120 for an IVF blood test to tell me something I already know, you bet I can spend it on a trip for pasta.
