How I pursued an ambitious career during 8 years of IVF treatment

Over the past eight years my husband and I have been traveling a tough and uncertain medical journey together; a journey of trying to meet our family.

Some people believe that a post about starting a family doesn’t ‘belong’ on a site like Linkedin, but if the last eight years has taught me anything it’s that when your relationship experiences infertility and you also happen to be ambitious and have a job, your world of work will have an enormous impact on all three of these things. And for those that think otherwise - well I suggest you read on with an open mind.

Like many others, I was at work when my dreams of one day becoming a mother were shattered. Not at a doctor's office. Not at home on my couch. Not at a laboratory. But at my desk.

One Monday morning I was sitting at my laptop when my phone began buzzing. I can still remember the sound of my heart thudding as my husband read out the results of what was meant to be a routine set of fertility tests. Colleagues continued to walk past me, waving silent hellos, still clutching their morning coffees. ‘The results are about as bad as it gets’, my husband said. ‘I’m so sorry’, I eventually heard myself stammer - immediately regretting my clumsy choice of words. What was I saying sorry for? Sorry for him or for me? Sorry that the magical team of us was suddenly broken in some way? Or was I saying sorry to the imagined children in my head that I had assumed I would one day meet? All of it I suppose.?

It was my work colleagues that got me through that terrifying day. I asked a colleague, whom I also counted as a friend, into a meeting room. Immediately I started to cry. She hugged me close and forgave the mascara stains that dribbled on to her pale purple blazer. She suggested that I go home – that work was not the place to be at a time like this. But I didn’t want to be alone. It was Monday morning and everyone that I knew and felt I wanted to talk to was also getting through their own Monday morning. I didn’t want to disturb them. And I didn't?feel ready to talk to them yet anyway. It was my work colleagues that got me through the next few hours in one piece.

Fertility treatment is no picnic – and balancing two ambitious careers alongside the challenges that come with it is incredibly hard. Did you know that approximately one in six couples struggle with infertility? And that the number of couples accessing fertility treatment has increased by about 30% over the past ten years alone? How many?couples does that translate to in your organization??

Unfortunately, in the case of IVF involving opposite sex couples, despite the fact that both men and women are just as likely to contribute to a couple’s infertility, the bulk of medical interventions will, more often than not, fall mainly on the woman. And for same sex couples accessing a donor – again IVF treatment will fall mainly on the woman. I say this not to dismiss the often physical, emotional, mental and financial impacts that this treatment also has on men – but to emphasise the disproportionate role that women have in enduring the medical aspect of this treatment and the impact this can have on their careers.??IVF treatment can involve endless round trips to often faraway clinics for blood?draws, scans, invasive procedures, never mind the daily self-administered injections and medications - usually undertaken in a work bathroom. And a single round can go on for months. There’s the confidence shattering emotions that come as side effects of the hormones taken. And at the end of it all, the calls from doctors - which often arrive when you’re at work – letting you know whether the treatment has been a success. I can barely count the number of times I have walked through the office, carrying a smile, while trying to make sense of another failed round of treatment. Trying to pretend that absolutely everything was fine.

Like most other fertility treatment patients, the vast majority of my treatment schedule took place during the working hours of my week. And, among the many endless worries that went alongside my treatment, one of the biggest was that it would affect my career. I had only recently joined the company I now work in. I didn’t know if I could trust them yet. So I often attended zoom meetings while sitting beside the emergency exit in my fertility clinic. I conducted phone calls while sitting on hospital beds, often with an intravenous needle stuck in my arm. I ran a wellbeing session to a large group of employees just two hours after being told that my eighth round of treatment had failed. I remember feeling utterly broken in that meeting. No one at work had a clue that this is what I was doing. And I kept it that way at first. Why? Because I didn’t want anyone to question my commitment to my career, my ability to reliably deliver the highest quality work or to see anything but the raw and determined ambition I felt to?progress. And I know now that I wasn’t alone in feeling this way. The research is very clear; only 50% of women disclose to their employers that they are undertaking IVF. About a third of women believe that disclosing their IVF status would put their job at risk. And for those that do choose to disclose it, one third have considered leaving their job due to the reaction of their workplace or manager. I know some of these women and my heart goes out to them. Because IVF doesn’t just affect your immediate job – it can derail the career path that had once felt possible. I remember pretending to a manager that I wasn't quite ready to apply for jobs that I had been fighting toward for years. I ignored leadership training opportunities - too tired to create room for anything but surviving another round of treatment. And another round. And another. And another. And another.

Did looking past promotion and ?training opportunities that came by help me to survive my treatment? Of course it did. Did it also derail my career? Probably, yes. Did that break my heart on some days only for it to morph into an uncontrollable rage on others? Yes (largely influenced by whatever stream of steroids and?IVF hormones were being pumped into me at the time). How many women in your workplace do you wonder are undergoing fertility treatment silently and privately; afraid of being found out and afraid what it will mean for their career if they are? How many, like me, feel angry for what felt like a year in year out erosion of a career path that once felt possible? This in exchange for the hope that comes with being able to continue treatment - but no guarantee of that treatment’s success at all.

Over the past eight years, the number of rounds of IVF I have undergone has entered into the double figures and I am writing this post to pay tribute to the role my work place has played in supporting me and my career along the way. I’ve been promoted three times over the past eight years and that wasn’t just down to me.

By far and away the most influential factor that has helped me through my fertility treatment at work has been my manager. It was only after two years working for a new company that I felt I could open up to him about my treatment. I didn’t feel that I had a choice anymore but to tell him. Physically, emotionally, mentally I was drained and hiding it was a burden I could no longer carry alone. Given my manager’s response, my only regret was that?I hadn’t told him sooner. He supported me to work around scans, surgeries and embryo transfers. He encouraged me to continue to learn, grow and challenge myself and my most recent promotion took place the same day that I departed to undertake my latest round of IVF. He backed my career throughout my treatment 100%. He was one of my first phone calls - helping me pick up the pieces - when yet another round of treatment failed. I can’t tell you how lucky I count myself to have had such a manager as I traveled this journey. I wish every person going through this treatment had the same support. But we know from the research that they don’t.

Of course I also found other supporters along the way; mentors at work who had secretly traveled my fertility path and achieved their career ambitions, reassuring me that I could do the same. My company provided free counseling sessions alongside my treatment and also contributed, via my benefits, financially to the cost of the treatment itself. I connected a global network of employees in my company who were all facing similar fertility issues. And this was the place where I vented, shared tips, empathized, mourned and celebrated with others going through the same journey. I didn’t feel alone at my desk anymore – there were others like me. And they had become some of my closest friends – the ones who will outlast the day I move on to another organization. Another gift from my place of work.

I know that I am one of the lucky ones. Not just because I have a five year-old son from IVF but that I have experienced genuine support from my workplace as I embarked on a journey to achieving not just my career dreams, but my life dreams. And if I had a wish it would be that every person undertaking a similar fertility journey could say the same. There is so much more to be done to support women to balance and continue to pursue ambitious careers alongside the challenges of fertility treatment. And I want to be a part of that.

They say that for a parent, the thing they want most for their children is that they get to realise their dreams – whatever those dreams might be. Well for me, it was my husband Tom, my son Thomas and my second son, due in February, that have always been the biggest dream of my life. ?And I want to thank my employer Oracle for helping me find my way to that dream. The truth is - I simply could not have done it without you.

I’m still ambitious– so so ambitious. And for any women out there, reading this post now, worrying about how they can progress their career while pursuing IVF treatment , I would say this; it is possible, especially with the right support and help from your organisation. And if you're not getting that support - I would genuinely consider making a move to an organisation that will. They do exist. Furthermore, the wonderful irony that I see now and that I hope you come to see for yourself – is that the limited extent to which I backed my ability to achieve my career goals before I started this treatment has been eclipsed by an unstoppable belief in my ability to overcome any career obstacle on the other side of it. Withstanding this eight year journey has forced me to build a tenacity and a belief in myself that I can't imagine anyone ever penetrating. It has transformed my belief in my potential to realise career goals I would only have ever dreamt of in the past. So you see, there are gifts IVF can give your career.

And for organisations out there who are still wondering, having read this, how you can support women's ambitious careers during IVF I would say this. There's the obvious of course; time off to attend treatment that would otherwise come from holiday allowance, training for managers, financial support toward treatment, implementing policies and events that build awareness and support etc. These are areas that many organisations are currently focused on. But a gap that I believe most organisations have yet to tap in to is the vast leadership learning that can be accessed from within the often silent population who have endured this treatment. Leadership learning and inspiration does not always come in tidy packages of C-suite titles, ivy league research studies and big budget consulting projects. It is often hiding, even unaware of itself; afraid, ashamed, isolated. Have you ever asked the women and men in your organisation what they've learned from their IVF experience and what this might offer your organisation given the leadership challenges it's facing? Because I truly believe that you and your organisation can shift the feelings of shame and fear often associated with IVF treatment into an opportunity for employees undertaking IVF to offer teachable leadership skills to others. Skills that are becoming more crucial to successfully navigating the complexities of your business environment. Such as, how to resiliently push through indefinite uncertainty. Or, how to navigate emotionally charged conversations and influence the people you need on board when there are red hot lines in the way. And, how to know when to walk away; putting your ego aside and letting go of the things that might serve you but stand in the way of what's more important. Because these are just some of the skills you need to survive prolonged IVF treatment. Is your organisation tapping into these skills? This is something I look forward to being a part of making happen at Oracle.

But for now - I'm finally calling a halt to IVF – and looking forward to seeing colleagues and friends from work on the other side of my maternity leave that begins on Monday. I’ll miss you. Try not to do too many exciting things while I’m gone. I know you will. Can you just not rub my face in it when I get back okay? Thx. Elga.