Infertility is a private struggle that requires open and supportive solutions

Heart-wrenching, stomach-churning grief is expected when you experience loss. After 10 months trying to conceive, I was crying on the edge of the bath again, negative pregnancy test in hand, feeling like an impostor naming what I felt as grief. How could I be grieving something that never existed?

Six months, many invasive tests and two unsuccessful rounds of IVF later, I’ve come to understand infertility as isolating and poignant, traumatic and nuanced.

Not only is infertility emotionally taxing and isolating, it is also financially devastating. If infertility is a club, IVF and other fertility treatments are the over-inflated subscription fee, averaging £13,750 for a single round in the UK. If you can’t afford to be treated privately, eligibility for rounds of IVF through the NHS is a postcode lottery, as waiting lists for NHS treatment continue to grow.

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As employers, UK universities should consider the impact IVF can have on employees. There is no legal right to time off for fertility treatment in the UK, and this has meant patchy-at-best delivery of fertility leave policies across UK universities – allowing on average between two and five days of fertility-related leave. The average IVF cycle including investigations includes five to 10 appointments, meaning that many staff appointments go unpaid or take up annual leave allowances. With a round of IVF costing 44 per cent of the median household income, being forced to take unpaid leave can be a barrier to staff attempting to access IVF. In my experience, being offered only three appointments’ worth of fertility leave meant a significant loss of earnings in an already stressful and demoralising time.

It is paramount that universities reconsider the support they offer. While my experience might be personalised, it isn’t unique. Infertility doesn’t discriminate; it can affect any gender, orientation and age. And it isn’t going anywhere – in fact, it’s on the rise: men under 35 are more likely to experience infertility than the generation before them, and the World Health Organisation notes that 17.5 per cent of adults globally experience infertility. If we apply this to the 2021-22 higher education staff figures, that’s a whopping 41,000 staff members who have suffered or are suffering with infertility within UK higher education.

It would be misguided to think that the crux of the issue is the financial burden, when realistically it is isolation and effects on one’s mental health. IVF and infertility can place burden and strain on almost every aspect of your life: your romantic, familial and platonic relationships, your finances, your sense of self. This, when not supported, can have detrimental effects on our ability to engage in our work.

Therefore, well-informed support is vital for employees going through infertility, but it can be difficult to know how best to pitch that support for such a private, personal issue. As it stands, many universities are not providing enough support for colleagues struggling with infertility. There are ways to support colleagues with infertility.

Listen without lecturing

Listen to how your colleague is feeling and how they want to be supported rather than offer unsolicited or unfounded advice. (Just because you know someone who went on holiday and magically conceived after months of trying or someone who miraculously got pregnant after they “stopped trying” and “just relaxed”, that doesn’t mean these are sensible suggestions for someone who is struggling.) Each case of infertility is different; suggestions and advice about treatment or trying to conceive aren’t helpful and often feel dismissive.

Prioritise education

Employers should aim to educate a designated member of human resources in processes to do with infertility. The IVF process is complex – so, too, is having to explain it constantly to people who don’t understand exactly what each appointment is for. It becomes another burden to inform those who aren’t aware. A specialist contact would make conversations about appointments, reactions to medications and any adjustments that need to be made much easier. Likewise, shared employee areas could include well-informed resources about fertility. I’ve worked with my employer to establish resources online using expert content from charities and fertility organisations to support employees who are struggling. 

Raise awareness to break the stigma

You don’t need to wait for Fertility Week to raise awareness around infertility. Making a clear effort to have ongoing open, non-judgemental dialogue around fertility will help break down barriers and will support an inclusive working environment. Support groups can be a useful way of combating isolation and grief when suffering with infertility, but fostering non-judgemental spaces is also vital to ensure that employees feel safe to speak about the private more publicly. Fertility issues are deeply personal; they alter our realities – a life with children was once probable but quickly becomes unlikely. There are no guarantees, but we shouldn’t have to suffer alone and in silence.

Consider expanding fertility leave offers to one full round of IVF

We need to reconsider how effective university fertility-leave policies are. I understand that five to 10 appointments’ worth of leave negatively impacts institutions and businesses, but is that loss comparable to the mental and financial impact that not covering this leave will have for the staff member? When appointments for a medical condition are not covered under medical leave, we don’t leave colleagues with many options.

We must consider how to stop the isolation, how to support colleagues, how to do better. Sadly, I’m aware that I occupy a less visible space than others who have chosen to remain childless or those who become parents. These are valid choices, but they are just that: choices. I, like many others, am childless not by my own volition. Instead, my lack of choice frequently evokes sympathy in others. I don’t want sympathy. I want change.

Devon Oakley-Hogg is a teacher of English and doctoral researcher at the University of Glasgow.

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