The financial emptiness of infertility

The world on infertility has been a quiet one and I understand why.
The emotional journey of it all is a lot in and of itself.
The other half is just as brutal. The financial implications of infertility are a black hole that puts you at a loss for words. Having a baby is a financial responsibility for any couple. For couples facing infertility, additional money is often needed for treatments and tests. The vast majority of assisted reproductive technologies (ART) are not covered by insurance, the patient has to pay out-of-pocket for it all. Only fifeteen states in the US have passed laws requiring insurance companies to help cover costs.

Here is my first reaction to the costs of it all.


Below are the estimated prices I was give.

One-cycle = $11,570.63 (a fresh and a frozen cycle of IVF)

Two-cycle = $20,149.83 (2 fresh and 2 frozen cycles of IVF)

Three-cycle = $26,821.28 (3 fresh and 3 frozen cycles of IVF)

ICSI = $1,124.00

This does not include any genetic or embryo testing which is estimated to be about $3,000.

They estimated that medications would be about $4,000 a month as well.

I left the consult feeling this way:

All in all our IVF consult was good. We're going to wait a little bit so we can figure out the financing with out me going crazy.

Friendship, Kids, & Living Childless

Living childless has it's ups and downs.

The hardest part: friends with kids.

We adjust our lives to work around their schedules and babysitter availability.

We go to birthday parties.

We buy birthday presents and Christmas presents.

We adjust our lives to be part of theirs and their children's.

It's not always reciprocated. 

Yes, our lives are much different, but does that mean that we're too different to adjust?

Often times people say, "You won't understand until you have kids of your own."

That may very well be true, but that's no fault of my own.

We've spent so much of our lives sad, longing for kids of our own.

We've spent so much financially and emotionally on having kids that I don't think it's fair.

We're taking a break from the heartache of infertility and celebrating what we have.

And what we have is a life without kids.

Why shouldn't we celebrate the life we have? 

Yes, we would love kids but that's not an option right now.

Is it too much to ask that friends be willing to adjust into our lives as well?

We spend a lot of time celebrating with our friends with kids, why not have them celebrate with us?

I'm not asking people drop everything and meet our every request, but we're busy too.

I'm working two jobs (trying to start a third) and still have time to ask how little Suzy is doing, so isn't it common curtsey to ask how we are as well?

While life with and without children is very different, I think we all need to be willing to adjust.

Rock bottom.

I don't know how fertility nurses do it. Half of their job is to deliver you bad news. I guess it must be the half that provides hope.

I got the call with about 30 minutes left in the day.
Another one of our test results came in off the deep end of the spectrum. 
It came back to far on the bad side that they said our chances of IVF success rate were not high enough and they wouldn't recommend doing it.

Luckily we have a great doctor and nurse combination that didn't make me feel like my world was crashing down. Luckily I was at work and had to keep myself together.

Luckily I waited until I go into my car to cry. I had to tell my husband the terrible results and terrible news. The poor guy has been through so much in his life, losing both parents before age 25, that I felt twice the heart break. He has thick skin because he's been through so much. Skin so thick that I told him and he just went on about his day. He's so much stronger than I am in this area that I feel bad crying and getting upset about it in front of him.

I looked all around and felt alone. No one wants to hear about sadness. No one wants to hear about infertility. 

I got these terrible results that I had to hold inside (and share on here because let's face it, I don't have any followers). I felt like the grim reaper walking around. I shared the information with one friend who lives across the country and she managed to understand and had flowers delivered to me. 

It's one of those times that you really find out who your friends are, the quality friends: the ones that can look you in the eye and know that something is wrong; the ones that will soak up your tears, the ones that will bring you a bottle of wine and say let's cry this thing out together, the ones that will bring over your favorite movie for a laugh, the ones that are across the country and still send you a hug over the phone--it's those ones that count.

Maybe this is my silver lining--finding out who's real.

As I throw myself this pity party and my cup of coffee catches my tears, I tell myself to get over it and stop feeling bad for myself. I try to run away from this ominous rain cloud and into the sunshine.

Maybe now I can spend the rest of my life traveling the world, living carefree on an adventure.
Maybe now I can start my own business and work those long hours establishing myself without worrying about missing out on my kid's events.
Maybe not I can workout and get into great shape.

The maybes fulfill me for a brief time before my world crashes down on me.
I need time to grieve. I need to process this experience. Most of all, I need to move on.

Infertility & Getting Rid of Facebook

Some weeks are harder to get through than overs on my infertility journey.

This week has been hard for me emotionally. Blogging about my infertility experience started as a way for me to blurt our everything my heart was feeling about what I was going through, but it's done more than that. It's let me put it out in the open with no fears. It's let me actually have a place where I didn't have to receive advice from every one and their dogs. It's let me actually reflect without tears. It's let me see how real this is. Something about putting something on paper makes it more real.

The first year of infertility I was calm. We were just going to let things happen.
The second year hit and each pregnancy hit me harder. Thanks to Facebook, I knew 12 people pregnant. After feeling down, I got rid of Facebook and I feel so much better.

I don't have to hear about how wonderful and terrible the pregnancy is, or better yet, I don't have to hear about babies' every sneeze and bowel movement. Yes, I'm sure they're wonderful, but taking myself off the Facebook grid has opened my world up. I'm more in touch with the people who matter most to me. And those babies that are actually apart of my life, I see their sneezes and smell their diapers when friends visit. It's a great experience removing yourself from technology. It actually has made me more relaxed. 

I am a better wife, better daughter, better aunt, and better friend because the connection isn't a click away. I find myself in a happier place by forcing those efforts to connect in life. I get show people how much I care about them and love them and value  those relationships more because of the connection. By connecting directly with my loved once, and physically showing up in their life's events, I have an extra sense of value in my own life.

Disconnecting from social media has made me re-connect this those important people in my life.
It's also made me see myself with more value. I get to be apart of these people's lives and they love me whether I have kids or not. They may not understand what I'm going through in this journey, but a hug from my niece touches my heart more than a million likes on Facebook could ever do.

Make sure you see those connections outside of social media and make sure you live them up.
Those people who show up with a tub of ice cream and sit on the couch with you and while you just be are the people who will make all the difference. Quality people makes all the difference.

Katie