When footy and fertility collided: Joel and Brit Selwood open up on their IVF journey

As well as the on-field disappointments of 2020 and 2021, Brit and I had been dealing with a very personal challenge that had, to some extent, been put on hold until the end of the 2020 season. We had decided during the year to find out why we weren’t able to become pregnant as we realised things weren’t happening naturally for us. We longed to have children and we were impatient to find out what was causing our difficulties.

Only a few people knew our issue, which had consumed much of our thinking and energy in the final part of 2020. It wasn’t an easy time as we were surrounded by toddlers and family reunions in the hub. We loved the energy that the families brought to the place, but it was sometimes difficult given our situation, particularly for Brit who was around mums and their children most of the day and didn’t have football as a release. That was no one’s fault. She loved children and particularly her friends’ children, just as much as I did.

We needed to undertake testing but had to wait until football in 2020 had finished. The tests showed I had a low morphology sperm count. In simple terms, sperm morphology is the size and shape of sperm. We were given clear options: to keep trying or to enter an IVF program.

Brit and Joel Selwood at last year’s Brownlow.Credit: Getty Images

After much thought we chose to undertake IVF under the direction of Dr Lynn Burmeister at the No.1 Fertility clinic in East Melbourne.

We soon learnt that Lynn is an outgoing character. Her style put us at ease, and she filled us with confidence about our prospects of success. We respected her intelligence and expertise yet her loud high heels, red, flowing hair and penchant for wearing pink was an added bonus.

Her flamboyance made us feel comfortable in an environment that induces anxiety. Given we were still restricted by COVID-19, our first consultation was by telephone. Brit and I sat opposite each other and put the phone on speaker so we could talk to a counsellor about the IVF process.

BRIT: We did the phone consultation in a meeting room in the footy department at GMHBA Stadium to fit it in with Joel’s schedule. It probably wasn’t the right place to do it because I think I got a bit frustrated, angry even, that I had to meet him at his workplace, and I was the one who had to take the day off work [as a special needs teacher] for the call.

I wasn’t really sure how I would fit the IVF process into our lives because we both worked full-time and the clinic was in Melbourne. But I knew that I would have to make the time. I think I was just frustrated then because I knew the whole process basically falls to the woman and I was overwhelmed!

We are the ones having to go through all the treatments, book all the appointments, make and take all the phone calls to nurses/scientists/whoever, go to the appointments, put on alarms and organise when we needed to take medication and at what times etc, etc. To name just a few!

I think Joel was a bit shocked but I just needed him to know I never wanted to hear footy would get in the way and that I would need him throughout this process. I’m pretty independent and I didn’t want to admit I needed help.

JOEL: I admit I was taken aback by Brit’s comments. It was not her intention to make me sit up and take notice, but her words were something of a verbal shirtfront. My first reaction was to become defensive. I thought, surely, she knew I would be there for her and would always be there for her. Perhaps that was an assumption I was not entitled to make.

Selwood celebrates the 2022 premiership with Cats fans.Credit: Scott Barbour

As much as she loved footy and fully supported my commitment to the game, she also knew the practical reality: football could be a selfish game and sometimes those lucky enough to make it to the AFL can justify being really selfish. We were already on a footy clock from week to week. Now we had another clock to follow: the IVF clock.

All through the week, the much-anticipated top-of-the-table round 17 clash against Melbourne had been the talk of the town. Everyone, it seemed, had been talking about this match, because it would indicate whether Geelong had gone past the reigning premiers. But on match day, footy was the furthest thing from my mind.

I wasn’t preparing for footy in any way. I was with Brit in the maternity services section of Geelong’s Epworth Hospital, the stoic expression on my face a brave attempt to hide my anxiety. After so many emotionally draining setbacks, Brit was now six weeks pregnant and the joy we had shared at the positive news less than a month earlier suddenly felt, if not rash, then irrelevant, given the number of times we had been thwarted in our quest. One phone call from Brit changed all our optimism. She was straight to the point: “I’m pretty scared.” She told me that after some exercise, the first she had done for a couple of months, she had noticed some bleeding.

After we asked each other what we should do, we knew there was only one answer. We had to get it checked out, for Brit to undergo yet another scan. She arrived at Geelong’s Epworth Hospital at 11am with me joining her about 20 minutes later after an anxious drive from Barwon Heads.

‘Whenever we could, we tried to find an excuse to laugh, to distract our mind but this time, jokes were hard to find.’

The first scan showed nothing because the embryo was at such an early stage, so we had to go downstairs to make use of another, more powerful scanning machine. Again, we waited, wondering what might lie ahead, a nervous couple faced with uncertainty, trying to stay positive.

Four hours passed before we received the all-clear from Epworth’s empathetic professionals. I had learnt over the journey not to look at my watch although this was a very different experience. Whenever we could, we tried to find an excuse to laugh, to distract our mind but this time, jokes were hard to find.

Brit played Sudoku on her phone. My mobile stayed unusually quiet. Brit kept telling me to go and get food and to stay hydrated, but I was not going anywhere. We just stayed put, in a private consulting room, alone yet together in our thoughts.

Once we received the positive news, Brit made me smile when she asked the doctor whether she would be able to go to the footy that night. He did not take long to answer: “Nuh, you’re going home.” I could tell by the look on his face he was only ever going to give Brit one such response. I dropped Brit back home, both of us emotionally drained but so relieved. At 4.30, way earlier than normal, I packed my bags and said: “I’m going to the footy club.” I needed a release before the group arrived.

I swam for about 40 minutes then just sat in the spa. I guess I was dehydrated after the strain of the morning and afternoon. I had also failed to eat much during the day as it had not been front of mind. Having had the previous week off, I had been feeling in great shape but the stress of the day had taken its toll. That didn’t worry me too much – many times I had rocked up to games feeling exhausted but had told myself I would get through. Muscle memory would kick in and I would perform. That was both good and dangerous because despite the myths sport likes to create, everyone has their limits. I just had not passed mine.

Selwood had to get used to the idea of starting on the bench.Credit: Getty Images.

My mood shifted when I realised in the team meeting that I was to start on the bench. I have a good poker face, so my expression didn’t change but I wasn’t happy that no one had told me beforehand. I didn’t speak to anyone about what I thought was something of a slight given I had not played in the previous match. No one knew my boiling inner thoughts as I took my place on the bench alongside Sam Menegola, Tom Atkins and Gryan Miers.

Not knowing the final line-up before running out was not unusual. Sometimes we would only be certain at the warm-up as the coaching staff literally like to leave such calls to the last second. But it isn’t ideal for some because generally, such decisions are easier to accept in the lead-up than when you are looking for your name on the whiteboard pre-game. That’s footy, I suppose.

The coaches knew I would do anything for the team so were probably as surprised as I was by my reaction, which I revealed later. I could see my thoughts had tightened up a bit and the feelings followed. My acceptance of this role would make me a better captain. I now realised I did not have to see myself as the main man.

This is an edited extract of All In by Joel Selwood published by Hardie Grant Books, out August 2. The book was written with the assistance of The Age’s Peter Ryan.

Joel Selwood’s memoir, All In, is published by Hardie Grant.