Our combination nurse consult / financial consult was Monday, December 14 at 1:15 pm. Hubby had a meeting downtown with his clients that wasn't scheduled to end until 1:00 pm, but didn't actually end until 1:15 pm. So we had to drive separately this time and meet at the clinic. To top things off, we had freezing rain / sleet off and on all day, which made the commute to our appointment especially fun. At least my normal route was construction-free this time.
I arrived at the clinic a little early and let the front desk know Hubby was going to be late. The very nice receptionist said she'd let the nurses know, and a few minutes later, two nurses (one in training, who looked the same age, if not slightly older than the other nurse) came out to talk to me. The main nurse (the one not in training) said it was no problem Hubby was going to be late and that we could go ahead and get started or wait for him. I asked if we could wait until 1:30, and the same nurse reiterated it was no problem at all and there was no rush; she was so nice. (Thank goodness!)
I knew 1:30 would be a stretch and Hubby likely wouldn't make it by then, but I hoped it wasn't going to be much later than that. So 1:30 came and went. Around 1:40, I just happened to look outside through the window of the 4th floor waiting room and saw Hubby pull into the parking ramp entrance. What timing! I immediately let the receptionist know Hubby had arrived, and I stood near the desk to welcome him and let him know it was ok he was late. Plus, I thought the nurses were going to come out and get us right away. Yeah, that didn't happen. We waited maybe another 15 minutes before they finally called our names. I wondered if they decided to take a lunch break while they had a few extra minutes?? Either way, the only thing that mattered was we could now start our appointment.
The nurse consult was no big deal - that's probably why my memory of the details are a little foggy already. It was all fairly familiar to me anyway from three years prior. We talked about meds and a tentative timeline of everything, we went over my booklet of information that came in the mail a few weeks prior, and suggestions for where to order my prescriptions. I remember asking a few questions and being proud of myself for speaking up when I was unsure about something or wanted clarification, particularly when it came to remembering how to administer the medication. Historically, I'm not one to say anything extra in my doc appointments because...well, I'm not entirely sure why...maybe I feel like my Dr. has already brought up all the important topics so the other stuff doesn't really matter?? Anyway, the nurses didn't volunteer a demonstration of how to give myself the medication (like I remembered them doing last time) so I asked for a refresher. And it all came rushing back..."oh, yeah, I remember how to do this!" I thought to myself. I was also amazed that I ever forgot.
After we all agreed there were no more questions, the nurses let the financial consultant know we were ready for her. And this is where it all went down hill... After she entered the tiny conference room, one of the first things the consultant said to us, aside from the typical greetings and pleasantries, was NONE of our cycle was covered by insurance. I kept telling her I believed her but I was still surprised that even the u/s monitoring appointments weren't covered. And she kept saying something to me like, "unless you know something I don't, your insurance doesn't cover anything related to fertility treatments. Aside from IUI." I mean seriously. I just told you I believed you and that I was sure you were right, just that the information was still surprising. And no, I don't know anything that you don't know. So quit asking me if I know something you don't. All I wanted to do was express my surprise...no, shock. I don't need you digging at my wounds any further, lady. She was actually very nice, I just found it irritating that she kept repeating herself when all I wanted to do was express my surprise.
She went on to explain we could pay her today for our FET cycle (a mere $4,300.00, not counting meds), send two checks in the mail (because one agency / clinic covers the monitoring and another covers...I'm not sure what...the embryo transfer, maybe?), or remit payment at my first u/s appointment. She left the room to give Hubby and I a few minutes to talk it over, during which I reiterated to him I couldn't believe NOTHING was covered. I mean, I know nothing was covered three years ago, but I hadn't met my out of pocket max expenses for the year at that time so going into this appointment, I thought (hoped) more was going to be covered. Anyway, Hubby and I weren't sure what we were going to do so I just told the consultant we'd mail it to her. She wrote down who to make the checks out to, and we were on our way.
I was crushed. I truly didn't know if we were going to be able to proceed. We no longer had extra cash around since having our twins. My heart ached. My soul sunk to the bottom of my feet. My uterus shriveled up and hid in the depths of my body. And to top it off, Hubby and I had to drive - separately - back to work. I couldn't even talk to him properly about what I was feeling because he left first while I scheduled my next appointments.
I tried to keep myself collected while at the front desk booking my ultrasounds, but as soon as I got into the miserably slow elevator, the hurt and the tears and the anger began to release. It wasn't until I reached the parking ramp that I didn't care anymore who saw me or what they thought. I was full-on sobbing. I debated whether to just have a good cry and move on or call Hubby via cell phone to talk about it. What the heck. I called him. And managed to choke out some coherent sentences like "It's not fair! Why can't we have it all...with building a new home and building our family?? Why did this have to happen to us?? There are all these people out there in the world who have no problems having kids who don't deserve them! Why does it have to cost us $35,000 and counting to have our family?? I really don't know if we can do this." And so on.
Hubby didn't have much to say back to his hysterical, sad, sobbing wife but he did get out some encouraging words, like "You know you will always regret it if we don't at least try. We will make it work. This is all you've been talking about for the past, what, year?" And I remember saying "Just because we can make it work, doesn't mean we should. We just don't have that kind of money anymore. And I don't know if we actually can make it work this time."
Basically, I gave him an out, a realistic, logical, unplanned out, and he didn't cave. And I couldn't believe it. He was there for me and knew my heart. He knew what I really wanted and didn't take advantage of my weakness for an opportunity to go the other route and remain a family of four. And I love him for it. I was scared and so unsure of how we could possibly make it work, but we were going to give it a shot. Somehow.
I've always - ALWAYS - said to myself and others in my life, I would never wish infertility on anyone. Not anyone. But on this day, I had a moment of realization. Clarity. I do wish infertility on some. I wish it on the ones who keep having more and more children and can't (or don't) take care of them. The ones who don't know what a blessing it is to have a child. The ones who take it for granted. The ones who hurt and abuse their children. The ones who don't protect those little hearts. And, most importantly, the ones who don't love them. To not love a child is completely unfathomable to me.
This may be the most selfish admission I've ever made. But this cold, dreary December day changed me. Tears fill my eyes even as I write this. To those mothers, those parents, those so-called families who think their beautiful, unique, special, wonderful children are burdens, I say to you: you deserve infertility.
I arrived at the clinic a little early and let the front desk know Hubby was going to be late. The very nice receptionist said she'd let the nurses know, and a few minutes later, two nurses (one in training, who looked the same age, if not slightly older than the other nurse) came out to talk to me. The main nurse (the one not in training) said it was no problem Hubby was going to be late and that we could go ahead and get started or wait for him. I asked if we could wait until 1:30, and the same nurse reiterated it was no problem at all and there was no rush; she was so nice. (Thank goodness!)
I knew 1:30 would be a stretch and Hubby likely wouldn't make it by then, but I hoped it wasn't going to be much later than that. So 1:30 came and went. Around 1:40, I just happened to look outside through the window of the 4th floor waiting room and saw Hubby pull into the parking ramp entrance. What timing! I immediately let the receptionist know Hubby had arrived, and I stood near the desk to welcome him and let him know it was ok he was late. Plus, I thought the nurses were going to come out and get us right away. Yeah, that didn't happen. We waited maybe another 15 minutes before they finally called our names. I wondered if they decided to take a lunch break while they had a few extra minutes?? Either way, the only thing that mattered was we could now start our appointment.
The nurse consult was no big deal - that's probably why my memory of the details are a little foggy already. It was all fairly familiar to me anyway from three years prior. We talked about meds and a tentative timeline of everything, we went over my booklet of information that came in the mail a few weeks prior, and suggestions for where to order my prescriptions. I remember asking a few questions and being proud of myself for speaking up when I was unsure about something or wanted clarification, particularly when it came to remembering how to administer the medication. Historically, I'm not one to say anything extra in my doc appointments because...well, I'm not entirely sure why...maybe I feel like my Dr. has already brought up all the important topics so the other stuff doesn't really matter?? Anyway, the nurses didn't volunteer a demonstration of how to give myself the medication (like I remembered them doing last time) so I asked for a refresher. And it all came rushing back..."oh, yeah, I remember how to do this!" I thought to myself. I was also amazed that I ever forgot.
After we all agreed there were no more questions, the nurses let the financial consultant know we were ready for her. And this is where it all went down hill... After she entered the tiny conference room, one of the first things the consultant said to us, aside from the typical greetings and pleasantries, was NONE of our cycle was covered by insurance. I kept telling her I believed her but I was still surprised that even the u/s monitoring appointments weren't covered. And she kept saying something to me like, "unless you know something I don't, your insurance doesn't cover anything related to fertility treatments. Aside from IUI." I mean seriously. I just told you I believed you and that I was sure you were right, just that the information was still surprising. And no, I don't know anything that you don't know. So quit asking me if I know something you don't. All I wanted to do was express my surprise...no, shock. I don't need you digging at my wounds any further, lady. She was actually very nice, I just found it irritating that she kept repeating herself when all I wanted to do was express my surprise.
She went on to explain we could pay her today for our FET cycle (a mere $4,300.00, not counting meds), send two checks in the mail (because one agency / clinic covers the monitoring and another covers...I'm not sure what...the embryo transfer, maybe?), or remit payment at my first u/s appointment. She left the room to give Hubby and I a few minutes to talk it over, during which I reiterated to him I couldn't believe NOTHING was covered. I mean, I know nothing was covered three years ago, but I hadn't met my out of pocket max expenses for the year at that time so going into this appointment, I thought (hoped) more was going to be covered. Anyway, Hubby and I weren't sure what we were going to do so I just told the consultant we'd mail it to her. She wrote down who to make the checks out to, and we were on our way.
I was crushed. I truly didn't know if we were going to be able to proceed. We no longer had extra cash around since having our twins. My heart ached. My soul sunk to the bottom of my feet. My uterus shriveled up and hid in the depths of my body. And to top it off, Hubby and I had to drive - separately - back to work. I couldn't even talk to him properly about what I was feeling because he left first while I scheduled my next appointments.
I tried to keep myself collected while at the front desk booking my ultrasounds, but as soon as I got into the miserably slow elevator, the hurt and the tears and the anger began to release. It wasn't until I reached the parking ramp that I didn't care anymore who saw me or what they thought. I was full-on sobbing. I debated whether to just have a good cry and move on or call Hubby via cell phone to talk about it. What the heck. I called him. And managed to choke out some coherent sentences like "It's not fair! Why can't we have it all...with building a new home and building our family?? Why did this have to happen to us?? There are all these people out there in the world who have no problems having kids who don't deserve them! Why does it have to cost us $35,000 and counting to have our family?? I really don't know if we can do this." And so on.
Hubby didn't have much to say back to his hysterical, sad, sobbing wife but he did get out some encouraging words, like "You know you will always regret it if we don't at least try. We will make it work. This is all you've been talking about for the past, what, year?" And I remember saying "Just because we can make it work, doesn't mean we should. We just don't have that kind of money anymore. And I don't know if we actually can make it work this time."
Basically, I gave him an out, a realistic, logical, unplanned out, and he didn't cave. And I couldn't believe it. He was there for me and knew my heart. He knew what I really wanted and didn't take advantage of my weakness for an opportunity to go the other route and remain a family of four. And I love him for it. I was scared and so unsure of how we could possibly make it work, but we were going to give it a shot. Somehow.
I've always - ALWAYS - said to myself and others in my life, I would never wish infertility on anyone. Not anyone. But on this day, I had a moment of realization. Clarity. I do wish infertility on some. I wish it on the ones who keep having more and more children and can't (or don't) take care of them. The ones who don't know what a blessing it is to have a child. The ones who take it for granted. The ones who hurt and abuse their children. The ones who don't protect those little hearts. And, most importantly, the ones who don't love them. To not love a child is completely unfathomable to me.
This may be the most selfish admission I've ever made. But this cold, dreary December day changed me. Tears fill my eyes even as I write this. To those mothers, those parents, those so-called families who think their beautiful, unique, special, wonderful children are burdens, I say to you: you deserve infertility.