We see the way heads turn when we walk into the waiting area, the way other people sneak glances at my more androgynous-looking partner to check if she really is a woman. They are making sure they are seeing what they think they are – two women at this mainly NHS-funded clinic.
Our treatment over the past five years has taken us through several unsuccessful and heartbreaking rounds of IUI and a round of IVF. We have been through countless hospital visits and spent hundreds of hours in waiting-room limbo. Yet I could count on one hand the other same-sex female couples I’ve seen. There is always a small flash of recognition, but nothing more. I wouldn’t dream of intruding further. You don’t know what show-stopping news they may have just received.
At times, the waiting room feels like the eye of an emotional storm. Women are often alone. I wonder why their partners aren’t there, supporting them. The NHS forms used to have a section for “husband/male partner”; now, many years later, this has changed to “partner”.
The other couples avoid eye contact. I can see their curiosity fizzing: how on earth have two women gained fertility treatment on the NHS? Well, since one of us has infertility issues, we were not discriminated against. We are proud to have paid taxes for aeons; why should we feel as if we need to explain this to anyone?
The long – and so far unsuccessful – journey has been just as difficult for us as for any other couple. The endless waiting, the frustration and the tears – none of it is any easier.
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