The real truth about ivf babies disadvantages and infant health

Tom
2026-05-06T07:09:15+02:00

I'm staring at a glowing phone screen at 4:13 a.m. while one of my two-year-old twin daughters uses my left kidney as a trampoline. Years ago, long before these tiny terrors existed, I was staring at the exact same screen in the dark, typing frantic, unhinged search queries. I was so exhausted by the endless fertility treatments that my thumbs simply stopped working. I’d type babi instead of babies, or search for babie health risks only to have Google suggest I was looking for vintage Barbie dreamhouses. What I was actually searching for, relentlessly, was the truth about the potential drawbacks of conceiving via science. I was completely convinced the clinic was hiding some terrible secret from us. The biggest myth we swallowed whole during those anxious months? That our future children would be fundamentally different from naturally conceived kids—fragile, breakable things made of spun glass that would require a lifetime of bubble wrap.

The reality is much louder, much stickier, and involves me trying to maintain a shred of personal dignity while constantly covered in acidic drool. If you're tumbling down the rabbit hole of medical anxiety, convinced that the petri dish has doomed your future child, let me share what it actually looks like on the other side of the laboratory door.

The grand geometric problem of twins

If we're going to talk about the genuine medical risks of IVF, we've to talk about prematurity, because this is where the actual fire burns. For years, clinics had a habit of transferring multiple embryos to boost success rates (a practice the NHS and private clinics now strongly advise against, but hindsight is a wonderful and entirely useless thing). We enthusiastically opted to put two back in, and congratulations to us, we got twins. And twins, by their very nature, come early. This isn't a flaw of the culture medium or the freezing process; it's a flaw of basic human geometry. A uterus is a moderately sized studio flat, not a luxury duplex.

I remember standing in the neonatal intensive care unit, entirely out of my depth, surrounded by machines that never stopped beeping. You spend your days obsessively staring at oxygen saturation monitors, terrified to touch your own children. This is the grand, terrifying complication no one properly prepares you for when you're signing the clinic consent forms. The doctors will mention preterm birth as a possibility, but they say it in that calm, measured, clinical tone that makes you think, "Oh, maybe we'll just be a week early and skip the last uncomfortable bit of the third trimester." No. You end up with tiny, translucent birds that need to be fed through tubes taped to their cheeks.

Trying to dress a prematurely born child is a terrifying ordeal that will break a grown man. Their skin is paper-thin, they've absolutely zero neck control, and they're attached to wires. We bought piles of rubbish clothes from high street shops before discovering the Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit, which I genuinely adore. It has these brilliant envelope shoulders that allow you to pull the entire garment downward over their body, rather than wrestling it over their wobbly little heads and knocking off their feeding tubes. Plus, it’s devoid of those awful synthetic tags that leave red welts on their skin. It just worked without me having to think about it, which is the only thing you want when you're operating on four cumulative minutes of sleep.

If you're currently panic-buying things for a hospital bag on an unpredictable timeline, Kianao has a fairly brilliant collection of neutral, ultra-soft sleepwear that won't irritate fragile skin, which is a lot more useful than buying those tiny denim jeans people insist on gifting you.

What the doctor actually said

I spent roughly three weeks silently crying in the shower over a statistic I found about a 1% increased risk of a rare cardiac issue in assisted conception kids, which our doctor later pointed out was roughly the same probability as me getting struck by lightning while eating a crumpet in the garden.

Dr. Evans, an NHS hero who possesses the bedside manner of a very tired but deeply patient golden retriever, tried to explain the genetics to me once. From what my sleep-deprived brain gathered, any slight uptick in developmental quirks isn't usually because some scientist aggressively poked an egg with a glass needle. It's because the parents—namely, me and my wife—were already ancient in reproductive terms. We came to the clinic with dodgy plumbing, tired eggs, and questionable DNA. The disadvantage is largely inherited from us, the crumbling millennials who need a lie-down after unloading the dishwasher, not the highly sterile laboratory equipment. Science is just doing its best with the raw materials we provide.

The aesthetic trap of newborn clothing

Eventually, they leave the fragile potato phase, they gain some thigh rolls, and well-meaning relatives decide it's time to buy them 'proper' outfits. We were gifted the Flutter Sleeve Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit for the girls. I'll be completely honest with you here: it looks absolutely charming in photographs and the organic cotton is lovely, but when one of your twins has ferocious acid reflux—a fun parting gift of being born at 34 weeks—those delicate little ruffled shoulders just become complex reservoirs for semi-digested milk. It's a lovely piece of clothing, but I highly suggest saving it for a Tuesday when you're absolutely certain they aren't going to aggressively vomit on themselves.

The great developmental paranoia

The psychological toll on the parent is perhaps the longest-lasting side effect of the whole process. Every single time one of my girls sneezed weirdly, developed a mild rash, or failed to stack a wooden block by the exact age a parenting book dictated, I immediately blamed the clinic. You just do. You sit there comparing your twins, watching Twin A walk while Twin B prefers to scoot on her bottom, and you naturally assume the freezing process of embryo B must have permanently damaged her ambition.

Because they were premature, we were overly aggressive with 'tummy time' to compensate for their early arrival. We ended up getting the Wooden Baby Gym | Rainbow Play Gym Set. This is something I seriously suggest without hesitation. Unlike the plastic monstrosities we were gifted that sang horrific, tinny electronic songs until I wanted to throw them into the Thames, this thing just sits there looking like a tasteful piece of Scandinavian furniture. Your slightly delayed infants can stare at the wooden elephant until they eventually figure out how to swat it. Did it actively cure their gross motor delays? Probably not, but it gave them something safe to bat at while I drank cold coffee, and eventually, they caught up to their peers anyway.

They get teeth just like the rest of them

If you harbor any lingering fears that your medically assisted child will be somehow delicate or refined, wait until they start teething. Let me tell you, when those little white daggers finally arrive, these kids are exactly as feral as naturally conceived ones. There's zero difference. They still drool battery acid, refuse to nap, and scream at the moon at 2 a.m.

During the worst of it, we threw the Panda Teether Silicone Baby Bamboo Chew Toy at them in sheer desperation. It’s brilliant mainly because it’s shaped like a flat little disc with ears, meaning they can seriously maintain a grip on it without violently punching themselves in the eye, which was a recurring, tragic comedy with our previous, heavier teething rings. You can just chuck it in the dishwasher when it gets covered in dog hair, which happens more often than I care to admit.

The truth is, once you're out of the terrifying woods of the first year, you completely stop thinking about how they were made or what petri dish they occupied. You stop staring at their ears wondering if they look 'too clinical'. Instead of hyperventilating over medical journals and hovering over their crib with a compact mirror to check for breath, you mostly just have to swallow your anxiety, trust that the Calpol will work, and accept that they'll eventually figure out how to sleep through the night. Mostly.

If you're currently in the thick of the newborn chaos and need things that seriously function rather than just look pretty on Instagram, take a moment to explore Kianao’s full range of sustainable baby gear to make your life fractionally easier before the next feeding cycle begins.

Answers to the panicked questions you’re Googling at 3 a.m.

Do assisted conception children get sick more often?
Honestly, my twins seem to catch every single cold that enters the M25, but our doctor assures me this is just standard nursery warfare, not a failure of their laboratory origins. Preemies do have slightly more fragile respiratory systems early on, so the first winter is rough, but their immune systems catch up. They're currently licking the pavement, and they're fine.

Are there long-term developmental delays to worry about?
According to every medical professional I badgered, cognitive and psychological development is completely on par with kids made the old-fashioned way. If they're born early, they might hit milestones based on their 'adjusted age' for a while, which requires a bit of mental math on your part, but they level out by the time they're two.

Did the fertility medications mess up my child's immune system?
There's no concrete evidence that the mountains of hormones you injected into your stomach have compromised your kid's immune system. The science points toward the parents' underlying health and the sheer chaos of premature birth as the main culprits for any early health niggles.

When do you stop correcting their age for prematurity?
Usually around their second birthday. At that point, the pediatricians stop giving you leeway for them being born early and expect them to act like standard toddlers. Which means throwing themselves on the floor of the supermarket because you won't let them eat a raw onion. Nature is beautiful.