I am in the sickeningly green-and-white doctor’s office in Ghent, reading him a list of what I need to be tested for – various STD’s, Rubella, thyroid levels, hormone levels.

As always with these types of appointments, I feel as if I need to be prepared for a fight. I remind myself that I need to be articulate, well informed, but smile enough so he’ll want to help me. I have practised what I am going to say in my head. Yes, we have considered our options in Belgium. Yes, we are sure. Please just do this for me because otherwise we’ll be paying out of pocket in the UK.

But then… he agrees to test me without any protest. Just like that. The doctor draws the blood, says the results will be quick, and sends me on my way.

It feels suspiciously easy.

Read more

 

“Maybe we should go to Copenhagen.” I lean over the table and look at Jo, my eyes burning after a night of heavy research on the internet. “…Or Norway. But then they have that Barnrett law, so that’ll cost us.”

“Hm.” Jo nods calmly while she eats her lunch. She has known me for years and as a result is rarely fazed anymore by my crazier moods.

“Cyprus or Greece are out, of course. Maybe the Czech Republic? I’ll check the donor law there.”

We drink some coffee – made to be ready right when Jo arrives from Dutch class – while my brain spins on at strange speeds. “That leaves… well, not France, obviously. Or Italy. Not Turkey either. Spain would have been nice. Of course then there’s…” I count on my fingers. “…the travel costs, the treatment costs, the stay itself, which it all depends on how long they would require us to stay there so…”

The internet plus desperation is a heady combination, and I refuse to stop until I’ve thought about it all.

Cue the summer of clinic searches!

Read more