When Nick and I met in 1987 (him 41 and me 29) we never thought about having children. There were too many other exciting things to do: careers to forge, selves to express, and a world to change.

When we got married four years later, there was some vague agreement that although Nick didn't really want any more children, he recognised that I might, and would reluctantly reconsider if I insisted. Nick had a seventeen year old daughter already, and had had a vasectomy several years previously.

Years ticked by, we got a bit bored with our other projects and started to moot the idea of babies. I mooted more than Nick. But we still ummed and ahed about it all for ages, not quite sure enough if that was the way we wanted to go. In the end we agreed that he should have the vasectomy reversal operation anyhow, so that we would at least be in a position to have a go - as it were.

The operation isn't always sucessful and it takes a while to know for sure. It was not till six months later that we heard that Nick's sperm count was still zero. I don't think it seemed like the end of the world, we were busy with new careers and jobs and trying to move home. It wasn't until we started following the progress of some friends' attempt at creating a longed for family - their fertility tests, different treatment options, and subsequent pregnancy - that the old itch began to vaguely twitch again.

Then our friends had some problems far on in the pregnancy and their baby died in a very premature birth. We grieved with the bereft parents, and also became aware of the baby that WE didn't have.

And so the part of us that did want children came to the fore. Our friends had told us of this new treatment called MESA (Micro Epididimal Sperm Aspiration as I recall) where they can actually get sperm straight out of the testes of men with irreversible vasectomies. MESA is done in conjunction with ICSI (Intra Cytoplasmic Sperm Injection) which is where they get eggs from the woman and inject a single sperm into each egg under a microscope. It's like IVF (In Vitro Fertilisation - 'test tube babies') but even more state of the art.

Oh yes, once we got the hang of all these long words we really knew we had arrived in the roller coaster world of fertility treatment! We had heard of a clinic with a track record in the then new ICSI, and made an appointment (privately). We were enroled for MESA and ICSI, and put on the waiting list. A few months later we started the six week programme of drugs and monitoring that is the first part of an IVF or ICSI treatment.

Basically what happens is that you take drugs to suppress your menstrual cycle, and then more drugs to recreate a super-cycle which is controllable and which will produce many more eggs than through normal ovulation. You may have seen television documentaries about the whole procedure (A series called 'Making Babies' with Tanya and Ray about three years ago?).

It's arduous and stressful and can turn into a real nightmare when you are desperately hoping for a baby - and once we started the whole business we began to want our baby more and more. The thing about IVF is that you have to go through so much, but the chances of success are so slim. The combination of not knowing what to expect, and having no control over what happened (or over the outcomes at each different stage of the treatment) was really stressful. We often ended up in a row just before or after a hospital appointment.

Anyhow, after many scans, daily injections, and several blood tests, my eggs were deemed ready for 'collection'. This is done by a small operation through the vagina. I opted for a general anaesthetic. At the same time Nick had to have his sperm 'collected' through another operation (in his case also under general anaesthetic). The doctors were pleased because they got ten apparently good eggs from me and what seemed like good sperm from Nick. Whilst we were both coming round in our day beds, the lab technicians were busy injecting ten of the best sperm in to the eggs.

Back at home the next day we heard that six of the eggs had fertilised. So far so good. Next we had to wait to see how many would divide up into four cell embryos. We were planning to put three back into my womb and freeze three for the future (yes it's a bizarre concept - in every sense of the word).

But shock horror, we heard the next day that only one embryo was dividing ok. When we went to have it transfered into my womb, the doctors told us it was of poor quality and unlikely to implant in the womb lining. We were upset, but clung to the hope that it might survive.

There followed two agonising weeks of alternating optimism and pessimism. When my period came it hit us - and particularly me - hard. Our friends were all very sympathetic and it was particularly helpful to talk with other people who were going or had gone through similar things.

By this time we had joined the fertility organisations (fantastic source of information and support) and had other friends on the fertility train. And partly to avoid facing the sadness and loss, I started researching and planning our next move. We could have tried again with ICSI and MESA, but we were told that Nick's sperm had not after all, been of very good quality, probably because of the many years since his vasectomy. Also Nick had felt upset at how major his operation, wound and recovery time had been and didn't feel like being chopped up again (by the way, not every man needs such invasive surgery in order to retrieve sperm).

I rather perfunctorily filled in a membership form for the DI Network (you name it, we'll join it. The idea of donor insemination seemed strange and quite far down the line, but I got a call from the Network very quickly. They were having a barbecue round the corner from us the following weekend - would we like to come? Always interested in finding out about new things, we trotted along. We met lots of people who had been through similar things to us, some with their DI children. A thoroughly mixed and welcoming bunch of people and their lovely, naughty, normal kids. So many people were very generous in sharing their stories with us. We came away unexpectedly inspired and somehow knowing that we'd found our way ahead.

Although you're not supposed to rush into these things, we did. I was on the phone to a recommended clinic the following day, and we got an appointment quickly, trying get everything organised in the week or so before my next ovulation! Thankfully we didn't make the deadline, so Nick and I were forced to take some more time to face the sadness of the failed ICSI. Also we had more time to mull over all the implications of donor conception, both for ourselves and for any children who would be born to us. There were never really any doubts for us. We were lucky in this respect because choosing to have donor insemination or donor eggs can be very emotionally and socially complicated. But Nick and I felt very positive about this choice and were completely open about the donor insemination with everyone around us. It was also very clear that there would be no secrets with any children that we may be lucky enough to have.

We spent some time looking for the right donor. We'd met some people who'd recruited and chosen their own donor through the Independent, but the paper was now refusing such ads. We thought of trying the internet, but then you'd have to meet everybody, choose one person, and make agreements etc.. It seemed that this route would just take more energy than we had to spare.

So we started to search for the donor through the sperm banks of fertility clinics - definitely not ideal as there would be little information from which to make our choice, and little information to pass on to the children.

This country already has open adoption but there is no possibility for a child who is born through DI at a licensed clinic to make contact at any time with his/her donor. We think that many children will want to know more about their donors as they grow up. In some other countries donors can choose to give their sperm or eggs either openly or anonymously - and prospective parents can also choose which way they want to do it. But we had no such options.

We did spend a long time phoning around sperm banks, explaining that we didn't really care about the hair or eye colour of the donor (which is what everyone thinks you want to match up), but that we did want to know about education and interests. The idea behind this was that at least we'd get someone who seemed compatible with ourselves. We'd have some sense of who they were, and some details to pass on to the children.

Anyhow we eventually found a donor/supply of sperm, ordered lots of samples and began the relatively low-tech and non-intrusive procedure of IUI (Intra Uterine Insemination) with donor sperm. This is done on a natural cycle. I had to pinpoint my most fertile day with home ovulation kits, and then make an appointment with the clinic. They'd thaw the sperm and insert it directly into my womb through a little tube. Not too difficult.

Except for the two weeks waiting time each month, which felt quite agonising. After four months and no luck, we decided we couldn't bear the waiting anymore. Our consultant suggested we consider standard IVF (In Vitro Fertilisation) with donor sperm.

We agreed to cut to the chase, as it were, and started again with the now more familiar regime of drugs and scans. Everything went smoothly (and stressfully of course). I produced seven eggs. Six of them were collected ok. Five of them fertilised. And best still - four of them divided up into good four-cell embryos!

We decided to put two embryos back inside me, and freeze the other two. As I lay there with my feet up in stirrups having the job done, the consultant announced from between my knees that he 'had a good feeling about this one'. Two weeks of sleepless nights, dreams and fears. Then the pregnancy test. I knew before I looked at it - I was pregnant.

The clinic offered an eight week scan, to make sure everything was ok. And when we were told that there were TWO heart beats we nearly died of surprise and joy! How amazing. A double whammy.

The pregnancy was great, I loved it. The birth (vaginal delivery) was pretty dreadful and I didn't love that one bit. But we got a beautiful baby boy and baby girl.

Twins are unbelievably hard work. All those vague rosy pictures I'd wafted round with during the pregnancy bore no relation to reality. But that's another story.

Our wonderful children are two years old now, and we have been thinking about more...

We tried to have the other two embryos put back a few months ago - but they didn't survive the thawing (a common problem with frozen embryos). We had thought of these embryos almost as our other babies, so it was a sad occasion.

At the moment we're lined up for another IVF (with the same donor sperm). It will be our last, as we both feel we've really had enough fertility treatment. We feel very fulfilled with our two children, and although we'd like more, there's not the same urgency this time. So it's just this one try. It would be glorious to have another baby, but we're happy to leave it in the lap of the gods.

But there's another line of thought. We both feel very positively about adoption. In a way, the two children we have are half adopted. There are lots of children in this country waiting for families, and we would like to have one or two more children in our family. I'd hope that we could provide some of what a child out there needs, and have the privilege of loving that child and being with her or him as she or he grows.

And that's what we all hope for when we parent a child, isn't it? I don't know how our story will unfold, but there may be another article in there somewhere.

Judy