Archive for the ‘Yay for Bitching’ Category

What’s Your IF?

March 25, 2008

To say I still struggle with where I fit in to this IF world and its accompanying acronyms is an understatement.

It’s not about me being labeled with the broadly, over-generalized term of infertile but more so the feeling of me not being worthy of that label.

When I think of those struggling with infertility, I think of individuals with courage, faith, hope and perseverance. I think of their strength in going through multiple cycles with an outcome unknown. I think of their desire, their dreams.

It’s familiar to me. Yet I am not one of you. I don’t deserve to be honored with the label infertile.

But I do love the label Christina came up with for me.

FFTO. Fertility fucked twice over. It’s succinct. It’s concise. It’s true.

And it explains, at least in my opinion, a little more about our experience with IVF.

But it got me thinking. If IF doesn’t define me, does it really define anyone? Aren’t each of our individual experiences, our stories greater and deeper than two letters can express? Or even my newfound four?

If you had to make up an acronym for your experience, though, would you? What would it be?

Why do I have insurance?

August 4, 2007

I really, really wonder.

I just got my call from Freedom telling me that neither my primary insurance nor my secondary insurance cover the cost of my meds.

So I get to spend $2,830.52 more of my own money.

It shouldn’t be so hard to have healthy babies right? Why do I feel like at every turn it’s only getting harder and I’ve yet to even reach the point of worry about injections, retrieval, transfer, etc.

I really, really need to be independently wealthy now. And then I could start a fund for other infertiles and those who fall in the middle like us, the infertile fertiles. I can award scholarships. It would be great.

Stupid insurance.

It Will All Work Out

July 25, 2007

I know my friends mean well.

They are trying to support me best they can, saying it will all work out.

And I want to believe them. But I can’t seem to get my head around how we are going to pay for IVF.

My insurance only covers up to $2,000 to find the cause of infertility. Nothing more. I am on my husband’s insurance as well, but the secondary insurance is nothing I’m banking on because, frankly, I don’t want to get my hopes dashed. And I have to pay first, file claims and then wait for who knows how long…

So here I am. Today was our how-to-be-a-intravenous-drug-user-lesson. I should have been excited that in a month they tentatively will be retrieving eggs, transferring embryos and we could soon thereafter be pregnant.

But no. I am freaking the fuck out about money.

Of course, we’re opting for shared risk to hedge our bet. And, of course, that costs a lot more.

Last night, all I did was cry myself to sleep with worry. How are we going to afford another like $700 in debt paying off a month, then what if we have babies? What then? I have visions of living in our car, one of the many causers of said debt, digging through garbage bins just to feed ourselves.

And then my hubby gets angry/defensive/upset about me crying about bills – you know that fairly poop sandwich response men seem to have when confronted with a crying woman – that he’s the one to blame because he has the genetic disease, he’s the reason we’re doing this. Yes, he is the reason but he never asked for OI. He didn’t ask to be born with an abnormality with his collagen production. He didn’t ask for that full body cast at 18 months of age.

He can’t be blamed for this avenue we are taking, we chose this route together. There is no blame. We’re a team, in this together. But I don’t know if he really truly believes that. And it hurts me to no end thinking how shitty he feels about himself.

It doesn’t help either that I can’t ask either of my parents for money. My father has now proceeded to lose his house to foreclosure while my mother blew through her divorce settlement with my stepdad in six months.

My dad tries to borrow money from me. My mom borrows money from her parents.

Awesome.

This morning, I lost it when my boss told me not to worry about my doctor’s appointment. I just started crying. And we then proceeded to talk about money. If there were people I could ask about helping us, or if I could use our HELOC.

He didn’t have any new ideas for me but just reinforced the fact that I need to ask my grandparents and my in-laws for financial help. I wish I didn’t have to. So much for being an independent grown up.

But it will all work out, right?

Hope is the dirtiest four-letter word…EVER

July 2, 2007

It had been a week and there wasn’t that reassuring card in the mail. You know, the one after your annual saying everything was normal.

Instead, last week brought a telephone call.

“Is this Jennifer?” inquired the familiar voice of my OBGYN on the other line. I knew. My heart dropped to my stomach and I waited to hear her words. 

As I fought back tears, I grabbed a pen and paper so I could write down everything she told me. Even at my worst, I’m a journalist at heart – taking detailed notes so I can tell my husband what I already know.

“Atypia.”

Dr. W. says that while the endocervical smear (it’s the pipe cleaner used to swab you, always awesome) came back clear, the regular pap showed atypia. Atypia you ask? Well on the spectrum of cervical fuckedupness, it is the lowest level, right next to normal.

Yet it isn’t normal. And I’m still broken.

I feel so foolish for having hope, thinking that we actually were journey toward trying to have a baby. Karma, the Universe, God, whatever, obviously, has other plans. Or I am being perpetually punished for past transgressions, thinking that she-man on light rail wears too orange of lipstick or the horrible past life I must have lived.

And I just want to know why. Why? Why did I get my hopes up? Why did I think that maybe we could get pregnant when we wanted to? Why did I think I would actually have some part of this process be normal? Why can’t I just feel like a whole and complete woman instead of some freak of nature?

I knew our process to getting pregnant wouldn’t be easy. But this was the part of the path I thought would be easiest. I’d never had a negative pap until I jump off the pill and we start planning. Oh we planned. We talked. We even told people of our plans and our talks.

And now they too have hope. Hope that my cervix is perpetually crushing…

It is my life in stirrups. And it’s not even the good kind of stirrups, ones in which they are trying to get me pregnant but rather the dumb your-cervix-is-fucked-up-and-laughing-at-you-type. Honestly, they make them and are used frequently at all my exams.

But right now, even as I bitterly type, I still have a ever-so-small ray of hope within.

Dr. W. said that because it only is atypia that she is fine with us proceeding with IVF, that is if my RE gives the go-ahead. Do you want to guess my thoughts on that happening though?

So now I wait. I wait for word from the RE one way or another. I wait for September for my next pap. I wait for an unknown future.

I never thought I would have such questions over my ability to just try to become pregnant. I’m trying to learn though that I shouldn’t assume anything. You know what they say, it makes an ass out of u [sic] and me. And I am, apparently, a giant ass.

Stupid Nancy Grace. It’s all her fault. Or, at least, it’s the story I’m sticking with now.

I See Pregnant People *UPDATED*

June 26, 2007

Forget about Haley Joel Osment’s ability to see dead people, I see pregnant people.

And while no one is going to make a movie about my “gift,” my uncanny ability to spot a pregnant woman a mile away is noteworthy nonetheless.

Okay, so it’s not really a gift or noteworthy but it is the fact of my daily existence.

My rather obsessive focus on getting pregnant is to blame, I know. I tend to only see pregnant women because that is what I want most. And no, it is not my nonbelieving nature of The Secret (sorry to disappoint you, Nikki) that I am forever seeing pregnant people. But, rather, my mental notes of all the pregnant women wandering around comes from longing to be part of the mommy mafia.

And then, too, I have to read every gossip blog out there, which only reinforces the idea that I see pregnant people everywhere I go.

Thanks, dlisted. I needed to see this:

“I never thought it would happen like this. I thought ‘mother’ and ‘wife’ was just not part of God’s plan for me.” 

Grace, who is due to give birth in January, would not reveal whether or not she underwent fertility treatments. But the expectant mom does say finding “such happiness” at this point in her life should inspire people. “Tell women out there that there is hope,” she says.

Without her words, I don’t think I would have had hope about getting pregnant. But now. Wow. Thanks Nancy Grace.

Grr…

*Oh silly me… Here is a much better photograph from the folks at Bestweekever.tv.