Hope is a Bitch: And other random things I’d like to vent about.

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:

  1. 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. 🙂


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s