Negative.
Almost $3000.00 and countless tears down the drain. I'm honestly starting to feel hopeless. How do I keep doing this with without hope?
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
Cycle 11, CD 27 (12 DPIUI)
I was trying to figure out some insurance coverage today. Or should I say, lack of coverage. It's unreal how fast these bills are piling up. I remember getting upset over the $800.00 cost for my hysterosalpingogram. That seems like a drop in the hat now.
Out-of-Pocket Medical Expenses for Cycle 11
- $80.00- 2 [specialist] office co-pays
- $525.00- Infectious disease panel & Cystic Fibrosis for my husband
- $354.00- Cystic Fibrosis for me
- $1000.00- CT scan [this was done months ago, but bill just arrived and payment is due now]
- $50.00- Clomid
- $95.00- Ovidrel trigger
- $825.00- IUI
Total: $2929.00
We are hemorrhaging money. But do you know what the scary part of all this is? It is only going to get worse. IUI's will get more expensive as we go from single to back-to-back. Injectables will be more than 10x the cost of Clomid. And then, there is that big black IVF monster dancing in the corner.
God is he terrifying.
And then, after spending over 2.5 hours on the phone with my insurance company, my doctor's billing department, and two different medical laboratories, I checked my work email and was alerted to the fact I am expected to pay $50.00 for a co-workers baby shower gift next week.
So I'm supposed to give this coworker $50 when it was free for them to get pregnant? And everyone will rejoice loudly for their impending bundle of joy? Yet we have to come up with thousands and thousands of dollars all on our own while being subjected to physically and emotionally excruciating procedures. And I have to endure it all in silence?
I ask you again, how is that fair?
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Cycle 11, CD 25 (10 DPIUI)
This is a dangerous place to be.
10 days passed IUI. I could probably test now. The trigger is most likely out of my system. But it could not be too- and I could get a false positive. Wouldn't that be a kick in the pants. A false positive.
And you know the ironic thing? Is even though I'm sure this month is a bust, I will be devastated when I get that BFN. Devastated. I'll secretly test without telling Mike [because I have this fantasy of surprising him when I finally do get that positive- in some fun, ultra sweet, and memorable way] then when I see that blank space next to the pink line- my stomach will drop. I'll get pissed. I'll remain silent. And then when Mike unknowingly says something to me- I'll attack. He'll never even know what hit him.
And that's not fair. It's not my my husband's fault.
Last month I was super hopeful. My 2nd round of Clomid gave me 5 nice and mature follicles. Our RE's "official medical advice" was to cancel the cycle since the risk of multiples was so high. Her "unofficial advice" was to go for it as long as we weren't morally opposed to selective reduction. Morals went out the window a long time ago. So we went ahead and had sex. Lots of it. I couldn't risk missing this opportunity and secretly fantasized about having twins. Instead, I got nothing. 0 for 5. Not good.
After that, Dr. D gave us a tentative diagnosis of "unexplained infertility" and told us that IVF would probably be our best option- but that we should try IUI a few times just in case.
I cried for a week. I felt like I couldn't breath. Everything I looked at was black.
I hadn't fully recovered from last months blow when all I sudden I looked around and the nurse was giving me instructions on how to inject myself in the stomach with the Ovidrel trigger because we were proceeding with our first IUI later that weekend. I had two hue-mongous follicles. 26mm and 28mm. I was proud at first until Google told me that I shouldn't be so confident. Bigger does not mean better. I'm now wondering if they were too mature. Or will turn into cysts. Dr. D didn't seem concerned, but I've also learned that they tend to sugarcoat everything there because they are dealing with hyper-emotional [read: unstable] woman most of the time. I'd do the same if I were them.
The IUI was very simple. Mikes's sample wasn't as large as she would have liked, but that was because she instructed us to have sex the previous morning. I don't understand why she told us to do that if it means the sample is smaller for the IUI. There are so many things about this process that I don't understand. So many tiny little convoluted things. Things that I'm not even aware of. Things that I am aware of that I can't figure out. Things that are related, or not related but still have relevance.
Why does this complicated process work for the majority of the population, but not for me? I feel stupid saying that, but at the same time- how can I not feel that way? It's like I am a small child stomping her feet because the neighbor gave my sister a lollipop but not me. It's not fair.
Four days until I can test. Four days that I can enjoy not having bags under my eyes, or tears streaming down my face for the majority of the day. And night.
10 days passed IUI. I could probably test now. The trigger is most likely out of my system. But it could not be too- and I could get a false positive. Wouldn't that be a kick in the pants. A false positive.
And you know the ironic thing? Is even though I'm sure this month is a bust, I will be devastated when I get that BFN. Devastated. I'll secretly test without telling Mike [because I have this fantasy of surprising him when I finally do get that positive- in some fun, ultra sweet, and memorable way] then when I see that blank space next to the pink line- my stomach will drop. I'll get pissed. I'll remain silent. And then when Mike unknowingly says something to me- I'll attack. He'll never even know what hit him.
And that's not fair. It's not my my husband's fault.
Last month I was super hopeful. My 2nd round of Clomid gave me 5 nice and mature follicles. Our RE's "official medical advice" was to cancel the cycle since the risk of multiples was so high. Her "unofficial advice" was to go for it as long as we weren't morally opposed to selective reduction. Morals went out the window a long time ago. So we went ahead and had sex. Lots of it. I couldn't risk missing this opportunity and secretly fantasized about having twins. Instead, I got nothing. 0 for 5. Not good.
After that, Dr. D gave us a tentative diagnosis of "unexplained infertility" and told us that IVF would probably be our best option- but that we should try IUI a few times just in case.
I cried for a week. I felt like I couldn't breath. Everything I looked at was black.
I hadn't fully recovered from last months blow when all I sudden I looked around and the nurse was giving me instructions on how to inject myself in the stomach with the Ovidrel trigger because we were proceeding with our first IUI later that weekend. I had two hue-mongous follicles. 26mm and 28mm. I was proud at first until Google told me that I shouldn't be so confident. Bigger does not mean better. I'm now wondering if they were too mature. Or will turn into cysts. Dr. D didn't seem concerned, but I've also learned that they tend to sugarcoat everything there because they are dealing with hyper-emotional [read: unstable] woman most of the time. I'd do the same if I were them.
The IUI was very simple. Mikes's sample wasn't as large as she would have liked, but that was because she instructed us to have sex the previous morning. I don't understand why she told us to do that if it means the sample is smaller for the IUI. There are so many things about this process that I don't understand. So many tiny little convoluted things. Things that I'm not even aware of. Things that I am aware of that I can't figure out. Things that are related, or not related but still have relevance.
Why does this complicated process work for the majority of the population, but not for me? I feel stupid saying that, but at the same time- how can I not feel that way? It's like I am a small child stomping her feet because the neighbor gave my sister a lollipop but not me. It's not fair.
Four days until I can test. Four days that I can enjoy not having bags under my eyes, or tears streaming down my face for the majority of the day. And night.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)