MICHELLE'S  STORY

Hello, my name is Michelle Irving and I am 28 years old.
I am making this appeal as I am desperate for ivf treatment, here is my story…..
 
By the time I was 19 years old I had already gone through the menopause, my doctor explained that I would be unable to conceive naturally. I would require medical intervention and even then conceiving could be difficult. I went through years of horrendous hot flushes and mood swings as a teenager and have held on to a small shred of hope that one day I would be able to conceive naturally.
 
I have been through 2 cycles of ivf treatment and have so far failed to become pregnant. The treatment itself is emotionally draining but I would do anything to hold my baby in my arms.
I now know that I would need donated eggs to have any chance of getting pregnant through ivf. Unfortunately ivf is expensive and myself and my partner Paul have already paid out £3.500 for our second attempt- the first is paid for by the NHS, and we just cant afford any more.
 
My first attempt at the ivf treatment was very traumatic for us both. A friend of mine had donated some of her eggs and we had paid to have private treatment at Calderdale royal in Halifax west Yorkshire. I had the eggs implanted and two weeks on I had the blood drawn from my arm for a pregnancy test.
Paul and I waited at home for the call from the hospital, Paul jiggled with nerves. I grabbed the phone the second it rang, “positive?” I exclaimed “I don’t believe it”. We erupted into a victory dance hugging each other and screaming.
 
I called my mum and then the donor “we are so happy for you” they chorused. “my tummy feels hard” I giggled to Paul “that’s a sign of twins”. That night we went to our local for a meal to celebrate, Paul bought pints for everyone at the bar while I drank fruit juice, chose my food carefully. “my babies need plenty of veg” I declared, I felt like a proper mum at last. Next morning I woke up to churning nausea, “it must be morning sickness” I marvelled.
 
I met my mum at the shops and within hours I’d spend hundreds- on matching car seats, prams, cots, shoes, clothes. By nightfall, our spare room had been transformed into a nursery. Tiny clothes hung in the wardrobe. Nappies, wipes and cotton wool were stored away. “isn’t it a little bit soon?” Paul said cautiously. “got to get organised” I said chomping on a piece of raw potato- my first craving. We chose discussed names, chose Olivia rose and Olivia Joe.
 
The next day, I had another blood test just to confirm the result. Just routine- but hours later, the hospital called, asking us to go in. As I entered the consultants office, fear began to roar. “there’s been a terrible mix-up”, he frowned. My first blood sample had been confused with another patient’s. she was pregnant- my test had actually been negative. I hadn’t conceived. I’d never been pregnant.
 
Anger propelled us out of the hospital doors. But outside, I collapsed into hysterical sobs. “it’s so unfair” I raged, my precious two days of motherhood had been nothing but a lie. There had never been there at all, but for 48 wonderful hours I thought I was going to be a mum. Back home Paul held me close, his own tears falling. Yet I was inconsolable. Over the next week, I sat in the nursery for hours, crying, stroking the sheepskin booties I had bought. “why don’t we take this stuff back?” Paul asked gently. “no”, I said “it’s all I have left”. I was grieving for the babies that might have been.
 
Five months later, the hospital trust formally apologised. They appreciated my “enormous distress”, had made changes to ensure that such errors wouldn’t recur. All I wanted was to try again.
Three years later, using the same donor’s eggs we had ivf on the NHS. “please work” I prayed. But the results were negative. “now what?” I despaired. The price of treatment had increased to £4.500.  I battled to stay positive. “I’ll raise the money somehow”, I vowed.
So two years on I have a cleaning job on top of working as a lollipop lady. I love guiding the little ones across the road, seeing their eyes light up when they get a sweet from my pocket.
I am also doing a sponsored slim and am hoping to drop from 11st 3lb to around 9 stone 10lbs.
 
We have a new egg donor and we are ready to start treatment just as soon as we have raised enough funds to cover the cost.  
I still suffer dark, difficult times. If things had been different my twins would be five now. Thinking of that shattered dream, I lay my head on the table and sob. Now the nursery has been turned back into a spare room, all the equipment packed away. But ill never let go, its my symbol of hope - a final reminder of two babies that lived only in their mummy’s heart.
 
So I ask you please if you could help me realise my dream of becoming a mum, would you please email me at [email protected]
 
thank you for taking the time to read my story
Michelle Irving.