Assisted reproduction | The birth of a complicity

Photos of injections. Images of their vulnerable bodies. Messages of encouragement, good news and bad news. Tears of pain… and finally of joy.

The journey of the fighter for assisted reproduction gave birth to a deep friendship between the Liberal Marwah Rizqy and the CAQ member Kariane Bourassa.

“It’s crazy what we shared,” says the Saint-Laurent MNA, casting a knowing glance at her colleague, or rather her political opponent from Charlevoix–Côte-de-Beaupré. But on this mild, sunny Sunday at the end of August, this is no time for partisanship.

To tell us this unique story, Julie Snyder welcomes us into her home. The host accepted our request to invite to her table the two elected officials and her long-time ally, the former president of the Association des couples infertiles du Québec, M^e Caroline Amireault.

Kariane Bourassa is due to give birth to her first child, conceived through in vitro fertilization (IVF), in November. Marwah Rizqy welcomed her second son, Abraham, last June. Like his brother Gabriel, who will be 2 in October, he was born through IVF.

Marwah Rizqy arrives in the large, bright condo with her arms full of a pastel-colored gift bag that she hands to her friend. The mother-to-be takes out two little pajamas and a red stuffed animal. They hug for a long time.

“It’s rare, MPs from different parties giving each other gifts, it takes a photo,” exclaims Julie Snyder, her TV producer reflexes well honed.

The atmosphere is good-natured. Marwah Rizqy makes a video call to her mother, a huge fan of the small screen star. “You don’t understand how much she loves you,” says the MP.

The Press brought them together to discuss assisted reproduction. The advances, the setbacks. The financial stress, the impacts on their careers, on their bodies. They tackle all the subjects without taboos. They agree to open up precisely to break down the prejudices, still tenacious in 2024.

An unpopular cause

Julie Snyder made advocating for infertile couples “her life’s mission” after giving birth to her firstborn, Thomas, in 2005, following three years of ovarian stimulation and two attempts at IVF.

“I had to do, I don’t know, 20 negative blood tests. I was crying because it wasn’t working, but there were women who were crying too because they had mortgaged their house on top of that.”

It was while producing the documentary It could happen to usin which Celine Dion testifies that she became friends with M^e Amireault. Their activism will contribute to the creation of a first Quebec law ensuring public coverage of assisted procreation (see other text).

Twenty years later, the subject is still debated, our guests note. “An elected official [à l’Assemblée nationale] told me that for him, in vitro fertilization was only for heterosexual couples,” laments Marwah Rizqy.

In November 2021, the Legault government reinstated free IVF cycles for infertile couples. Single women and female-female homosexual couples are eligible. The program was expanded last March to women involved in a surrogate motherhood project.

Kariane Bourassa says she too has received warnings. “I was told: ‘Be careful, you’re not just a mother in politics,'” says the 33-year-old MP and former TVA journalist, who has shared images of her long career on social media and given numerous interviews on the subject.

“You would never say that to a man,” Julie Snyder protests.

The host reports hearing her share of “misogynistic and homophobic” comments during her battle.

There’s also this “accept your fate” discourse, notes the 39-year-old Liberal MP. “I was served that one [voulant que la vie ne m’envoie pas d’enfants, donc de l’accepter] and I said: “Life sends me extremely competent doctors!”

A winding path

When she began to juggle the idea of ​​resorting to assisted reproduction, Kariane wrote to Marwah to ask for her advice. The CAQ elected official shared her life with a man who had two children from a previous relationship. At the time, he had undergone a vasectomy.

Their discussions began even before the MNA for Charlevoix–Côte-de-Beaupré made the leap into politics in 2022. “She asked me if it was possible to be pregnant in politics,” says Marwah Rizqy.

Because the process is demanding on the body and is set like clockwork, emphasizes the CAQ MP, who began her fertility process three years ago. “Every day, I injected myself at 6 p.m., whether I was in a parliamentary committee or not.”

Marwah Rizqy, for his part, testifies that he had to slip away from numerous caucuses to take progesterone tablets.

Their friendship develops to the point that the elected representative from Saint-Laurent becomes Kariane Bourassa’s confidante. One evening, in a parliamentary committee where they both sit, Marwah Rizqy is the only one who understands her colleague’s downcast expression. Her latest pregnancy test is negative.

The liberal has also had her share of tears. In her last pregnancy, she was pregnant with twins for twelve weeks. “There is still a mourning to do when you lose one. […] Oddly enough, it seems that people, when it comes to IVF, don’t see it as the same mourning. I felt like I was in a separate category,” she regrets.

“You don’t want to look weak either,” Kariane Bourassa pleads. She recalls a day when she threw up just before the start of a summit meeting related to a wind power project in her riding.

“You have to keep working. I was so full of hormones that I was shaking, I had “I felt sick. I would describe it as, you know, the five seconds before you realize you have the stomach flu. Well, I felt like that 24/7.”

It was her friend Marwah who convinced her to take two weeks off after her second IVF attempt to put the odds in her favor. “I told her, Kariane, you won’t get a gold medal at the end of this,” says the mother of two.