Real Stories | Alex Matthews: The Magpie

The author Elizabeth Day recently published a book called Magpie, a dark, twisty novel that tells the story of a couple struggling to have a baby.

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I devoured it and highly recommend it - aside from the utterly engrossing plot, the author draws on her own experience of fertility treatment and miscarriage to movingly relate the couple’s struggles and heartbreak. 

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The title, Magpie, refers to usurpation, which is a central theme of the book - the bird is famous for stealing other birds’ nests. However, it struck me that it is an apt title for another reason. Magpies are also known for being attracted to, and stealing, shiny objects: infertility has a similar attraction to the beautiful, shiny things in my life, and has claimed them for itself.

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Some of those shiny things are obvious. The first is money - infertility just LOVES money. I imagine it bathing in champagne, cackling as it throws £50 notes in the air. If it spies even a pound or two in your bank account, it will swoop. If you have squirrelled away some funds for a treat - treats are so very important when you’re going through infertility - infertility will find a way to seize them too, like the tyrannical monarch demanding the peasant’s meagre savings. It’s very persuasive, whispering in your ear that maybe that extra treatment, which ‘only’ costs an extra £1000, could be the thing that helps you to bring your baby home. And when it doesn’t, infertility points to another add-on. Maybe that will help? And before you know it, you’re £30,000 poorer, and you still don’t have your baby.

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Another of the shiny things that everyone knows infertility loves to steal is your plans. Looking forward to your much-needed holiday? But what happens if you’re pregnant by then? And if you’re not, will you be in the middle of an IVF cycle? Would it be more sensible to save the money in case it doesn’t work and you need another round? Probably best to postpone the holiday until next year… The same goes for your career. Thinking of applying for an exciting new job? Up for a promotion? Great! But what happens if IVF works and you get pregnant soon? And if you don’t, will you have the same flexibility you have now? Will your new boss be understanding about taking time off to go to IVF appointments, or to grieve if it doesn’t go to plan? Will you be able to juggle making a good impression at your new company with the demands of scans, drugs and transfers? And then infertility whispers in your ear - wouldn’t it just be easier to stay where you are? And how about going part-time, because IVF is a full time job in itself? Et voilà - infertility has stolen your career ambitions and your money.

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Of course, infertility sets its sights on your body from the start. There’s a sense of failure right at...