Writer Georgia Casey always assumed she had years left to decide whether she wanted children at all. Then a stage two endometriosis diagnosis and a low ovarian reserve moved up the timeline. Here, she walks through the diagnosis, the choice she and her husband were suddenly forced into, and the realities of how a fairly clinical procedure left her feeling like a womb with legs
I’ve always been on the fence about having kids. When I was little, friends would proudly show off their baby dolls; I’d feign polite interest but never understood the appeal. Why would I play with something that demanded I wipe its plastic backside when I could concoct drama between my Bratz dolls instead? A large part of me still feels that way; that babies are cute, but I can think of a million other things I’d rather be doing, like travelling, spending too much money on dinner, or nothing – apparently, you can’t do nothing with a baby.
Sure, I always assumed I’d probably have a kid in the vague, distant future. You know, when the stars aligned and my husband and I felt that our finances and lifestyle could accommodate one with as little interruption as possible. As newlyweds with access to a spritely 30-year-old womb (my own, in case you were wondering), we told ourselves that we had all the time in the world. Annoyingly, my body disagreed.
After years of moderate to excruciating period pain, unexplained bloating, and unshakable fatigue, I was finally referred to a gynaecologist to run some tests. These investigations included an internal ultrasound, several blood tests, and a laparoscopy. The results were as follows: stage two endometriosis and a low ovarian reserve. My anatomy, combined with a family history of various fertility issues, led my doctor to recommend that my husband and I freeze some embryos as soon as possible. “If you tried to get pregnant immediately, as in start trying yesterday, you’d probably be fine. But if you want to wait another year or two, we’d better get some embryos on ice,” she told me.
Immediate pregnancy was an unappealing prospect, but after she explained the process of egg freezing, I wasn’t too thrilled about going down that route either. If you’re unaware, freezing eggs typically involves a few weeks of stimulation injections into the stomach, after which you get an ultrasound. If the doctor sees some nice juicy follicles growing, they’ll tell you to go home and give yourself a final trigger shot at a very specific time. A few days later, you’ll report back for your egg collection; they’ll put you under anaesthetic and use a long needle to retrieve the follicles – if you’re about to undergo this process, do not look up photos of the needle beforehand. Oh, and if you’re lucky enough to get a handful of fertilised eggs from this process, only 30 per cent to 50 per cent of those will survive long enough to be put in the freezer.
Fertility struggles, I thought, were for older women who had spent their entire lives dreaming of motherhood, not for a girl who has only ever felt maternal towards dogs and was on her family's mobile plan until last year
Georgia Casey