I don’t have an actual topic this week. So, I figured I would just list a bunch of things that “really grind my gears” related to this fertility nonsense. Because a lot of this sucks, a lot. A friend of ours told me that me and Kenny were two of the most positive people he knew. And I laughed. I’ve always fancied myself a positive, hopefully person. Really feeling like most often things will work out somehow, and that having a good attitude definitely helped. Maybe not reach said goal, but at least putting you in a good head space to get there. But I haven’t felt positive in over a year. So, all I could say in response was “It’s hard to be these days.”
Figured what better way to celebrate my current lack of positivity than to complain about a bunch of things! Here we go:
- Hope is a bitch. Excuse the language, but it is. Hope is there, in the back of your mind, helping you picture the future you always wanted, getting you through some bumpy moments, and then when you least expect it, she swoops in and punches you continually in the neck. And says “Oh no girl, not so fast.” I’m always in this place of trying to stay hopeful, but as soon as I get my hopes up, crushed. So, you know what, Hope, I never liked yo ass anyway. (JK I will be hopeful again in like an hour, because it sucks otherwise, but whatever).
2. What is with these side effects? I gave myself 62 shots in the stomach in the last two weeks. SIXTY-EFFING-TWO. My stomach looks like it got in a fight with a bunch of tiny leprechauns. And as a bonus prize for doing that I get ovaries the size of baseballs, bloating like you wouldn’t believe, exhaustion, HUGE BOOBS (I suppose some would argue that isn’t bad, but when they’re already ample…) and extreme mood swings. In exchange for murdering your mid-section, you’d think you could get some pleasant side effects like extra energy, glowing skin, white teeth, and inexplicable positivity. Come on drug companies!
3. Anthem, get your life together. In the past two months I have gotten FIVE brochures in the mail from my insurance company about preparing for my new baby. 5. FIVE. One about lessons to prepare for the baby’s upcoming arrival, one about finding a pediatrician, one about delivery, I can’t remember the rest. But seriously. What-the-everloving-shit. BRO. Do you not have computers? Do you not have records? Something in your system is telling you I have a baby arrival soon, but nothing in your system is telling you I am being treated for infertility, had one failed IVF cycle and am in the middle of another one? Do you know how much of a punch in the gut it is to check the mailbox and get this stupid, useless piece of mail? Like, GET YOUR LIFE.
4. I want to light your Baby Shower invites on fire. Ok, that’s obviously not true because I am not a horrible person (mostly) and I am also terrified of fire. Let’s be real. But I’ve gotten 4 baby shower invitations during the last two week taking IVF medication. It’s just like when you were in grade school and one of your classmates was waving something you wanted in front of your face but they wouldn’t share it. Like, damn Gina. 4 shower invites, all happening in the next two months while I am here all swollen and bruised, sad and longing. It’s tough. And what’s harder is that I love all of these people, like, a lot. There are a lot of hard things for me these days. Even having lunch at work with colleagues all discussing the upcoming back to school plans, or hearing my coworkers reminiscing about the little awesome, and annoying, joys of motherhood. It’s all hard. Simply functioning and trying to find joy is hard when the life I want is not coming to me, no matter how much effort, time, prayer, faith, or money I put into it. But baby showers are just an extra special kind of torture at this time. I long for the time when I could go to one and just enjoy it (or complain about the dumb games) and not feel pain. I hope I get back there someday.
5. My life is a real life reenactment of the money with wings emoji. It is INSANE how much this costs. Like money aggressively flying out of my bank account. And I’ve said this before but I am beyond lucky for my insurance coverage. But the costs of this process have still really added up over the past few months. We are lucky to have the means to be able to cover the costs not covered by insurance, but it isn’t easy. And there are things we need to skip in order to pay for the genetic testing ($4600 in three months), and all the copays for prescriptions and visits. Not to mention the time out of work every 3, 2, or 1 day during the medication process- grateful to have a career/employer that can work around this. And this is before we even have a child that we have to pay for! When I called to get a refill for my meds, the girl told me that each of my prefilled pens were $900. $900!!!! I paid $0, for 16 of those pens. So while I am bitching, I am not actually complaining, because without this coverage, we wouldn’t even be able to consider this an option for us to pursue. While I feel really strapped, and am counting pennies, I also find myself sitting in all my privilege to even have IVF on the table.
Ok, vent session complete. LOL Hopefully by next post I will be back to my (mostly) positive self. 🙂