Stephenson Harwood’s Suzanne Johnston with her family

“Your HCG levels aren’t rising”. A phrase reserved for parents whose unborn baby is (literally, if you repeat home pregnancy tests) fading before their eyes. Words spoken to me in February 2018 while sat in my open-plan office. An hour later, I walked into a presentation. Broken, helpless, confused, shaky and sad, I couldn’t articulate or process what just happened… again. I didn’t nail the presentation.

The first time we ‘lost’ a baby (images of a careless mother misplacing a child – the lexicon of pregnancy, loss, and fertility is woeful) was in February 2015. At seven weeks pregnant, the doctor told us our first baby, had “no heart-beat”. In the following years, I was pregnant six more times. I had over 20 invasive surgeries, administered countless injections, swallowed a myriad of drugs, and trialled “alternative” therapies (moxibustion anyone?). I am fortunate, I have two living children.

I was a mid-level associate in an international law firm when we began trying for a baby. By the birth of our second living child in 2020, I was working as in-house legal counsel to a private bank.

I often thought about quitting law altogether. Was the stress of lawyering causing my infertility? I struggled, juggling appointments (medical, acupuncture, counselling, coaching) with deadlines, and ‘visibility’ in the office. Tired, of disguising my injections in lunch boxes and administering them in the loo. Fed up, with hiding tears from colleagues when I got bad news (often).

But we needed the money; IVF is expensive. I wanted purpose and belonging, outside of my fertility struggles. Why should I sacrifice my career because I had the hard luck of being infertile?

I explored joining an international law firm’s consultancy, for greater flexibility. I was open about my infertility. The feedback, “IVF may detract from your focus”!

The World Health Organisation (WHO) reports that 186 million individuals live with infertility globally. Unsurprisingly, the WHO deems infertility a disease. Despite this, it often isn’t covered by health insurance.

Infertility, pregnancy, and baby loss is profoundly traumatic. It’s life or death, exhausting, life-changing, and the mental scars are long-lasting. Like many women, I developed ‘scanxiety’ (in my case, fear of a scan showing no living baby, but simultaneously requiring the reassurance of the scan), and PTSD. I am still ‘triggered’ by pregnancy announcements.

One of my biggest challenges was the uncertainty. The outcomes of treatment are unknown. I had no control over whether I became a mother or not. I craved control of other aspects of my life, especially work.

During my years battling infertility and pregnancy loss, I was fortunate to have compassionate, caring and understanding bosses. Irrespective of this, I was anxious about telling them I was trying for a baby (let alone that I was travelling to Malaysia for an egg retrieval)! Not everyone has supportive bosses. That’s why relying on goodwill isn’t enough.

Employers must implement clear policies to help employers and employees navigate fertility, baby loss, and pregnancy loss. Changes should be supported by education and conversations. A disappointing egg retrieval, the loss of an embryo, or a failed transfer stir the same feelings as the loss of a pregnancy. You don’t get to dictate the timing of fertility treatment. Doctor’s appointments are often, last minute, over an hour, and every day.

What of the parents who don’t experience infertility, fertility treatment or pregnancy loss directly? My husband didn’t speak openly about what was happening. He was trying to be “strong” for me. He didn’t feel it was his place to “complain”. As with many partners, he suffered delayed grief. When we considered surrogacy, I worried that I couldn’t justify time off to my employer for appointments. What about families who require fertility treatment for reasons other than fertility?  Those in same sex relationships, or embarking on solo parenting, are left out of the narrative.

I am determined that our experience helps others and that any policy is as inclusive as possible. Since joining Stephenson Harwood last year, I have worked with our diversity and inclusion team to implement global policies for fertility and pregnancy loss. The policies are available to everyone at the firm irrespective of relationship status, sexual orientation, sex, or gender identity. They recognise that all paths to parenthood and options for a child free life are valid. The policies are a great first step and we will build on them as we start the conversation.

Suzanne Johnston is a partner at Stephenson Harwood