BBC presenter on the joy of her IVF 'miracle'

I conceived my son Gabriel through in vitro fertilisation (IVF). Now following the release of a new Netflix drama about the origins of IVF, I've recalled my own experience.

I've always felt extremely lucky, perhaps even slightly guilty, that our IVF journey was relatively straightforward compared to those others go through.

One cycle was hard enough for me. How do people cope with more?

The familiar feeling that "I had it pretty easy" rose up again speaking to the writers of the new Netflix film Joy, external, about the British scientists who pioneered IVF treatment.

I'll never forget sitting in a room at the Princess of Wales Hospital in Bridgend with my husband Rhodri and being told that IVF was our best hope to conceive.

My surgeon had given me the results of a laparoscopy, external, which revealed my fallopian tubes were blocked and sperm couldn’t get where it needed to be.

I smiled, thanked her profusely and cracked a few uncomfortable jokes, leaving as quickly as I could, before promptly bursting into heavy sobs in the car park.

Rhodri and I decided immediately we would try IVF.

We were fortunate enough to be able to afford private treatment and called a clinic that afternoon.

Our urgency helped me to understand why the scientists behind IVF - Patrick Steptoe, Jean Purdy and Robert (Bob) Edwards - were inundated with letters from couples begging for help to start a family.

One of those letters came from Erika and Wayne Tomlinson from Abersychan.

Their daughter, Natalie Tomlinson, was born in 1983 - the first Welsh "test tube baby".

Their story struck a chord with the co-writer of Joy, Jack Thorne.

Speaking on my BBC Radio Wales show, he said: "I know that Patrick really wrestled with those letters, because he got sent a huge amount of them, and he really wrestled with that idea that he was the one who got to decide.

"He hated being the one who got to decide, that he had to somehow pass judgement on these people, going, 'you deserve a chance, you don't deserve a chance'."

Louise Joy Brown was the world's first baby born through IVF, in 1978.

Her middle name, Joy, was suggested by Patrick, who is portrayed in the film by Bill Nighy.

But the story is told through the perspective of Jean, played by Thomasin McKenzie.

Jean's contribution was barely recognised at the time and Joy's writers, Thorne and his wife Rachel Mason, said they wanted her to be the focus.

"Her role was integral," said Mason.

"The film opens with a letter written by [Robert] Edwards, trying to get Jean recognised.

"He said it was always the three of us, not two of us, because Jean was so private and didn't want to be in the limelight, she kept herself in the background, but she was integral to this process."

The writers spoke to members of the original IVF team and some of the women involved in the early trials.

"It was during lockdown that we were doing the bulk of the research," said Thorne.

"In the evening we would sit together and have these Zoom calls with these extraordinary people who would shed light on it from all sorts of different directions.

"It was like our own little detective story."

IVF is one of several techniques used to help people with fertility problems who want to have a baby.

An egg is removed from the woman's ovaries and fertilised with sperm in a laboratory.

The fertilised egg, called an embryo, is then placed back into the woman's womb to grow and develop.

According to the NHS, external, the percentage of IVF treatments that result in a live birth is 32% for women under 35, dropping to 4% for women over 44.

More than ten million babies have now been born through IVF treatment.

Our experience to conceive Gabriel may have been years ago, but it still feels raw.

Those daily injections. Waiting to have tests in the clinic, surrounded by hopeful women who - like me - were probably thinking of the success rates.

When the clinic decided my eggs were ready for collection, Rhodri arrived to play his part.

To this day he says he had it easy, but that's not how I saw it.

I always felt it was my fault we had to go through it, as I was the one with the medical problem.

Out of 16 eggs collected, only two fertilised and were suitable to have implanted.

When that time came, one Sunday morning, we raced back to London.

We were both there, in our gowns, medical caps on, Rhodri holding my hand.

It may not have been the traditional way you make a baby, but it still felt strangely romantic.

On the way home, I remember lying down on the back seat of the car, determined to give those little embryos their best chance.

A week later, following a blood test, the phone was ringing.

I knew it was the clinic.

Surely, there was no way we would be lucky enough to conceive after just one round?

I didn't answer. The clinic called Rhodri and he phoned me.

Not many husbands get to find out their wife is pregnant before she does, but he did.

We were pregnant. More tears, and this time they were joyful.

Rhodri and I have never hidden from Gabriel how he was conceived, but it was important to have his permission to share this story.

He must have been so young when we last spoke about it, he had no idea he was our IVF miracle.

No idea how long we'd wished for him, no idea about our fight to have him.

So was it ok to share the story?

"Yeah, no worries, just do it," he said.

Thank you, Gabby.

I hope he will read this. I hope he will watch Joy with me. And I hope he will know that IVF gave Rhodri and I the greatest joy of our lives.