When Craig Bowler and his partner Courtney Scott sought fertility help, the news was unexpected and jarring—Craig, like many men, had assumed infertility wouldn’t be his issue.
“She mentioned signs that I wasn’t producing sperm,” Craig, 37, from Brisbane, recalls. “It was a shock. I’d always assumed the problem would be with my partner. That realization made me feel awful.”
Further tests revealed fertility challenges for both Craig and Courtney, ultimately leading them to pursue IVF. But after multiple cycles and emotional and physical hardships, the couple made the difficult decision to stop treatment, stepping into the complex reality of being childless not by choice.
The journey began with a seismic shift when testing revealed a growth in Craig’s testicle, suspected to be cancerous. Within days, he underwent surgery to remove it. At the same time, Courtney faced challenges with a low egg count, adding to their shared burden.
“It was overwhelming. We were both fighting battles neither of us were prepared for, trying to support each other while navigating uncharted territory,” Craig shares.
The lack of societal conversations about infertility exacerbated their struggle. “Sex education focuses on avoiding pregnancy, but it doesn’t prepare you for the reality that conceiving isn’t always easy—or even possible,” Craig adds.
Each IVF cycle brought physical pain and emotional toll. For Craig, this involved testicular sperm aspiration—an invasive procedure performed under local anesthesia. “It was a barbaric process, a painful gamble,” he says.
With each failed attempt, grief took hold. “There’s a mourning period after every cycle,” Craig explains. “Then you pick yourself up, knowing the next try might bring more disappointment.”
Emotionally, Craig struggled to process his role in their shared pain. “I tried to fix things in the moment, downplaying comparisons Courtney made to other couples. But I’ve learned it’s more important to listen and be present.”
Ultimately, the emotional toll led them to stop IVF. Courtney’s body endured repeated cycles, and continued sperm retrieval for Craig risked damaging his remaining testicle.
Despite their decision, Craig reflects on the lack of guidance from their clinic. “There wasn’t a conversation about stopping IVF. It felt like we were left to figure it out alone.”
The transition to being childless is something Craig and Courtney are still grappling with. “It’s hard to identify with that term,” Craig admits. “Part of us hasn’t fully let go, even though we know the chances are near impossible.”
Craig describes the sting of seeing friends and colleagues celebrate milestones with their children. “While I’m happy for them, my first reaction is pain. For Courtney, it’s especially tough—it feels like society revolves around parenthood.”
He adds, “We’d love the chance to take time off to care for a child, to feel that support. Instead, we work through it all, feeling like there’s no equivalent recognition for us.”
Through their trials, Craig remains grateful for the bond he shares with Courtney. “I’m scared she sees me as a reminder of what we couldn’t have,” he says. “But we’ve managed to sit down and talk through those moments.”
For now, laughter remains their refuge, even if it’s harder to come by. “Laughter is still the best medicine,” Craig affirms. “It’s what gets us through.”
Craig and Courtney’s story is a testament to resilience in the face of immense emotional and physical challenges, shedding light on the under-discussed realities of infertility and the difficult choices it demands.
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