Choosing love over IVF, with Camille Charrière
On compromise, being grateful for what you do have, and finding a way back to someone you love after disconnection.
When I started investigating love, I hoped to learn all the lessons that would help me stay connected to my husband. That way, I assumed I could always protect our love from the threat of disconnection. A watertight plan! Job done! Ha!
It didn’t take long for me to realise this was a naive approach to love. Since then, the way I view disconnection has changed in three ways. First, I realised it is the norm, not the exception. Then I realised that disconnection is useful, rather than something to be avoided, because it allows us to practise. If we don’t exercise this muscle of growing apart and closer again in ordinary ways, how will we know how to close the gap between us when the really hard stuff comes along?
And the third thing? That love isn’t the thing we find again when we reconnect - love is the way we try to reach each other in these moments. It’s all the little vulnerable steps we take to close the distance: the clumsy apologies, the hands held, the insecurities dismantled. These seasons of disconnection and finding a way back to each other are now very romantic to me, because they add depth to our relationships, allow us to learn new things about each other, and to grow. Sometimes in my relationship I can feel the layers of all these little patches of disconnection and the love we built when we repaired them. They remind me how far we’ve come together and how far we could go.
That’s why I wanted to speak to Camille Charrière for today’s Conversation on Love, to explore what it looks and feels like to find a way back to someone you love after a period of disconnection. In Camille’s case, this was after a painful two years of IVF. I love the way she speaks about prioritising her relationship over more rounds, and about being grateful for the things you do have, while accepting sadness about the things you don’t get to experience. This conversation changed the way I loved month, and now I am passing it on to you.
NL: You spent years falling for men who showed no interest in you. When you met your husband, was it a conscious decision, choosing to like someone who liked you back? Or luck? Or timing?
CC: There’s an element of growth in it, where you've made enough mistakes that you're able to avoid repeating things you know caused problems in the past. After a bad breakup in my mid-20s — from the guy I moved to London for — I was always falling for people who didn't like me back, thinking they were the problem. I didn’t realise I was the problem, too, because I was picking those people.
My husband and I talk about how love is a combination of luck and timing. It was weird we never met before we did, because we were running in similar circles (with both English and French friends). When I met him, I thought, That’s my husband. But the truth is, I’d said that about two other people in the past who didn’t end up being my husband! That wasn’t the only time I felt that gut-punching, love-at-first-sight feeling. But the timing was right: both of us had been single for a long time and we wanted a relationship. We were prepared, in the very early days of dating, to compromise in ways we wouldn't have been able to in the past.
Love is a decision. That's what I try to tell friends when they're only falling for toxic men or women: you do have a choice. It's hard to say that, and it feels impossible to walk away from something when it's not right, but actually, it is possible. That is where your self-worth should come in. A relationship is about finding someone who allows you to grow and pulls you upwards. Someone who will be a rock in moments when life gets hard. As we get older, the more responsibilities that fall on our shoulders, the harder it's going to get. So it's about finding someone you can trust, who you can be yourself around. Before I met François, I felt I had to put on different versions of myself that people would find palatable. Whereas when I was around him, I felt like myself.
In what ways did you compromise in your relationship?
Our first arguments were often about disagreeing on where we wanted to go on holiday. He is a surfer and wanted to go to the other side of the world. In the summer I want to see my friends in Europe, I don't want to travel 18 hours to watch someone surf. It felt like a silly thing to have a big disconnect on, but it is a pretty big thing! It's still one of the issues in our relationship, because fundamentally we don't want the same things when it comes to going away. We have to pick and choose.
Sometimes when I think about these sorts of compromises, I realise if I had the choice or freedom to do whatever I wanted, I would miss the people I’m having to compromise for in this version of life!
Exactly. The other thing I realised is how many things we've brought into each other's lives, how many things I would never have discovered if it were not for him. Even things I haven't enjoyed, I still know them now because he's shown me them. To be in a relationship is to not put yourself first all the time anymore — and that's difficult. We're also a weird generation: we've been told that we can have it all, all the time. We can be selfish. Sure, there have been difficulties, but we've still been spoiled in terms of the access we have, the choices we have, and that we’re able to travel a lot. Our parents had much smaller lives.
Do you think the more individualistic approach to life is changing how we love?
I think it’s a huge problem to be honest. Self-development and wellness were meant to be positive, but if you blow them up on a grand scale they just make everyone feel more isolated and alone. I do think previous generations were more prepared to compromise, to settle, and to accept that just because something is hard, that doesn’t mean it isn't good. I think we've forgotten that that tension is not necessarily a bad thing — it helps you change and evolve. I feel that about my IVF; it has transformed who I am, and yes, it has been very difficult, but a lot of the things that have changed about me are things that I like. I'm more in tune with the world around me and I'm more appreciative of things. So with this obsession we have of removing anything difficult? We’re taking away what makes us grow.
What did it feel like to go through IVF together?
I knew I wanted a family. I’m the eldest of four and it’s always been something very important to me. François is the eldest of three and he always wanted kids too. Some of his friends were struggling to conceive, and over dinner, they said, “You should check your fertility.” I went in feeling casual and it was a massive shock, because what the doctor said was, “It’s going to be very difficult for both of you, and together even harder. You need to start right now.” We went from newlyweds in this magical moment to that. It was really, really difficult. And after doing IVF for two years, I couldn’t do it anymore. It broke me. I couldn't leave the house for weeks, I couldn't talk to anyone. I felt completely… I don't even know what the word is… despair, really. I felt people could look through my eyes and see how sad I was inside. And that I was a burden, because I was so depressed and negative.
You try to be positive, but after a while, every time people ask you it's negative news. They try to be nice, but they say the wrong thing. The thing about us was we were never even able to get any eggs — we only got one and were never able to freeze it — so people were surprised by that. The way they asked about it was a little inconsiderate. I think because it's invisible, and you've not actually lost anything — only the idea of something — people forget this is something you're grieving and trying to understand yourself. If you’re asking someone about it, you have to do so with great care.
How did IVF impact your relationship?
I’ve been an au pair, so I know kids are not easy, but I think there’s still an element of fun and excitement to building a family together that helps you to push through the hard stuff. IVF doesn't allow that. There’s so much negativity. You feel disconnected from your body and from each other and from everything. Since I've stopped taking all the hormones it's like a bad dream has ended, and I can't really access how I felt anymore. During those two years I couldn't hang out with friends and their babies and I got upset when people told me they were pregnant. I don't feel that way at all anymore. Maybe if we never have children, even though it's something that I really want, that will get hard again. But for the time being, I've been able to cross into another threshold of how I feel, and right now that's no longer something that's weighing me down.
Were you and your husband able to reach each other in those two years?
No, it was awful and very solitary. We did everything we were told to: we had couples therapy, we were very mindful of each other, but we were both grieving so badly, and grief makes you go into yourself. It’s hard to grieve with someone, because everybody experiences it in a different way. That's also why we wanted to stop: we valued our relationship more. I’d spent my whole life looking for this person, and I didn’t want to destroy our relationship by continuing any longer.
We live in a society where we think we can have it all, and I just don't think that's true. You can't have the perfect husband and the perfect children and the perfect career and the perfect life — no, it's not possible. You have to realise the good that you do have and be grateful for that, even if other things still make you sad, or there are other things you wish you could experience that you might not be able to.
And see the forms of love you do have. I spoke to someone recently who wants a partner, and feels people don’t recognise how hard it is to not have met someone and not even be able to try to conceive, if that’s something you want.
I have friends who got into relationships and had kids early, and those relationships have collapsed. They have their children, but they don't have a partner. I also know women who got pregnant in relationships where it was quite obvious they [weren’t going to last], because having kids was their priority. I wouldn’t have done that, because I do feel I need to have love with a person who's my equal before I have that with a child. That's not to say that I think the other way around isn't just as good. I see my friends who are now single or dating again, who've got their children and are also able to have a second lease of life with someone else. I don’t think there’s a right or wrong answer; it's different for everyone, and we all have to be grateful for the things we do have. That’s why when friends who are single parents complain, I say, yes, it’s very hard, but you also have your kids. And if you had a relationship and you were trying to have kids and you couldn’t, that would be very hard too. You have to look at the whole thing and what you do have.
How has going through this together changed your relationship?
The good thing is that we wanted to stop at the same time. It was a relief to know that I wasn't disappointing him. I think we were really lucky to not keep going, to have that moment when we realised, this is not going to work for us. When we told our therapist we were going to prioritise our relationship, they said they’d seen so many couples push and push, then get the baby, but by the end, they're no longer together.
The difficult thing was finding a way back to each other after that dark patch. We did it by being intentional about the way we spent time together and reconnecting in a similar way to dating in the beginning. Having designated date nights and doing nice things for each other. Also, I had my bad breakdown during and just after [the IVF]; he had a delayed crash where he got really sad afterwards. We were then able to [support each other] like a relay. We also continued couples therapy.
Today I just feel very lucky that I have the partner that I do. I can survive the idea of not being able to be a biological mother — because I’m sure we might look at adoption or something — but not the idea of not having him by my side. I know this is where I’m meant to be, and that's a beautiful thing, because it makes me appreciative of fate, but also the decision that we've made. Because we could have kept pushing to get what we wanted, but we valued ourselves as a couple too much for that.
What did couples therapy teach you?
Often what makes you angry is not the actual thing; it’s feeling that the other person is not hearing or understanding what is making you unhappy. You think someone understands what's going on in your head, and they don't. It's the same with friends. So you have to name the difficult thing, and bring it out into the open, even when that’s scary.
It’s not going to feel the same as before. We’re different people and we've grown up a lot, and that’s okay as well. At first I was clinging to a younger version of me that was more carefree, who didn't know as much. When you know more, things can feel weighty, but what I realised was that doesn't mean that things are not joyful or fun. You can actually have even more joy, because you appreciate things more.
Has it changed how you show up in other relationships too?
I hope so. When I was depressed I was sort of self-involved — I was trying to survive in those moments, so there was no room for anyone else. When I came out of that my first thought was, now that I feel like myself again, I want to make sure I'm there for the people I love and they know how I feel about them and I show them the love that’s there. We get bogged down by so much daily bullshit and stress, that we don't have the mental capacity to be there for the people around us because we’re too exhausted by life. I didn't want to go back to my old life where I had so many friends. I wanted everything to be smaller. I've been more careful about who I give my energy to, but now, when I am around people, I have a lot more to give.
What do you wish you had known about love?
You can’t be complacent. Every relationship demands something proactive from you, which is why it doesn’t work to have a million true friends. You have to give someone you love a part of yourself. It’s something that is special.
We spend so much time bettering ourselves at work or in wellness, and then when it comes to relationships everybody is talking about negative things, like setting boundaries. It should be the opposite: we should be thinking about how to become more compassionate, how to understand someone more, how to listen more.
So many people have an idea of what love should be, and I think you have to put that away. Really, it’s about someone who makes you feel good — that's all it is. For some people that will be a romantic partner, for others it will be a friend or a family member. It doesn’t matter where you find it, but you do need love in your life. You have to decide that you want it, choose it, and then nurture it.
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If you enjoyed this conversation, keep an eye out for Camille’s book, Ashamed, which will be published in 2026. You can read more about it here, and follow Camille on Instagram.
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Things I love this week
Especially the last two episodes. I’m now in a rut as I don’t want to watch anything that isn’t funny! Zoe Kravitz!!!!
*This piece on Black Ballad about finding new friends as an adult
The image of eating grapes underneath a table on New Year’s Eve with new friends is so fun! If you’re feeling lonely, this is a nice reminder that new friendships can be made at any age. There is fun out there to be found with new people, as well as with old friends.
*How to save a relationship, by Philippa Perry
recently joined substack and her advice columns are already a weekly must-read for me. If you loved her interview in Conversations on Love, do subscribe!*Zamli dates
They taste like butterscotch.
*I was propositioned by my electrician. But why? By
(Amy’s newsletter is also very good.)
This newsletter about the process behind publishing books, by Phoebe Morgan - who I went to journalism college with a lifetime ago!! - is full of so much useful information for anyone who wants to write a book or work in the industry. I loved this piece on how she picks titles.
*That I get to interview Jessica Stanley…
…author of Consider Yourself Kissed! I mentioned this book in the last newsletter, and now I’m going to interview the author at this event at the new BookBar on 30th June. Come join us!
*This reminder from The Top Five Regrets of the Dying:
“The same view you look at every day, the same life, can become something brand new by focusing on its gifts rather than the negative aspects. Perspective is your own choice and the best way to shift that perspective is through gratitude, by acknowledging and appreciating the positives.”
Here’s to looking at the same view like it’s brand new this week.
Thank you for being here!
With love,
Natasha xx
This piece is such a gift of experience ♥️ Thank you for sharing so transparently
This was such a delightful read! I have been a fan of Camille for ages and found her IVF article for Vogue incredibly moving. Conversations on Love was one of my favourite reads last year, so this was the perfect combination of both!