What We Wish We'd Known Before Our First IVF Cycle

If we could go back in time and sit down with the versions of ourselves about to start IVF, here’s what we’d say.

Do your research - really do it

We walked into our first clinic trusting that the doctor would handle everything. That the protocol would be tailored to us. That if something went wrong, they’d investigate why.

None of that happened.

We learned the hard way that not all clinics are the same, not all doctors take the same approach, and - most importantly - the quality of the embryology lab matters more than almost anything else. We’ll write more about this in a dedicated post, but if you take away one thing from this article: research the lab, not just the doctor.

Get thorough testing done before you start

Our first clinic ran the standard panel of tests and moved straight to treatment. It wasn’t until our fourth cycle, at a different clinic, that an andrologist ordered a more comprehensive set of analyses - including a sperm DNA fragmentation test.

That single test revealed the root cause of our failures. I had elevated DNA fragmentation - around 30%. A simple medication brought it down to 4%.

Two entire cycles - months of injections, hormones, emotional devastation, and thousands of euros - could have been avoided if that test had been done upfront.

Ask about: sperm DNA fragmentation, genetic compatibility studies, a full hormonal panel for both partners, and any test your doctor isn’t suggesting. If they resist running more diagnostics, that’s a red flag.

Both partners need to be in the room

At our first clinic, I was never allowed into the doctor’s consultation room. Every conversation happened exclusively with my wife. Yes, it started during COVID restrictions - but it continued long after those restrictions were lifted.

IVF is not something one person goes through. It’s a couple’s journey. Both partners deserve to hear the doctor’s assessment directly, ask their own questions, and be part of every decision. If a clinic doesn’t make space for that, think carefully about whether it’s the right clinic for you.

Understand that IVF is a numbers game - but don’t accept that as an excuse

Our first doctor opened with something along the lines of: “There’s a very good chance this won’t work.”

We understand the need to manage expectations. But there’s a difference between honesty and defeatism. A good doctor prepares you for the reality of IVF while still fighting for the best possible outcome. A disengaged doctor uses statistics as a shield to avoid accountability.

When our first cycle failed - 11 embryos fertilized on day one, zero surviving to day five - the response was essentially: “That happens sometimes.” No investigation. No change in protocol. The second cycle proceeded identically and, unsurprisingly, produced the same result.

Expect your doctor to be curious about failure, not resigned to it.

Think long-term from the start

We wish we’d approached IVF with a longer horizon from the beginning. Not pessimistically - but realistically. Having a plan B and plan C doesn’t mean you expect to fail. It means you’re protecting your mental health and your relationship.

Think about how many cycles you’re prepared to do. Think about financial planning across multiple attempts. Think about what alternatives exist if IVF doesn’t work - donor eggs, donor sperm, surrogacy, adoption, or choosing a different path entirely.

Life doesn’t end if IVF doesn’t work. The most important thing is that both partners stay healthy, stay connected, and don’t let this process define them. It’s one chapter, not the whole story.

Don’t skip the emotional preparation

We were so focused on the medical side - protocols, medications, timing - that we underestimated the psychological toll. The anxiety before each cycle. The crushing disappointment after each failure. The way it slowly seeps into every part of your life.

If we could start over, we’d seek support from the very beginning. A therapist who specializes in fertility. An honest conversation between partners about how to handle the hard days. A commitment to protect the relationship alongside the process.

We’ll write more about the emotional side of IVF in a separate post. For now, just know: it’s harder than anyone tells you, and there’s no weakness in asking for help.

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This is the second in a series of posts about our IVF journey. We’re sharing what we learned across 6 cycles, three clinics, and five years - not as medical advice, but as the honest account we wish we’d had when we started.

Dan