Thank you for all of your comments. I am feeling a bit better, though my sadness is still lingering in the background. Work, which keeps me busy and not thinking about my own problems, is a great help. I really feel I chose the right job for myself right now (so far). It is very helpful.
I did not take my bcp last night. T and I decided that we probably will try on our own this month. Whatever happens, happens. Most likely nothing will happen, which is fine. It is possible, though a lot less likely, that I may get pg and miscarry and even less likely that I get pg and it is healthy. But what do we have to lose by trying? We decided that I'm not even going to chart, though I can try OPKs if it moves me. I don't want to take my temp every day. It seems to stress me out.
I will need to organize everything for a dIUI at the out of pocket place for 6 weeks from now. I will need to get my test results faxed from the RE's office to the new office and I may need to go in for another meeting. I need to call them next week.
T and I talked last night about him getting the SA done and we agreed that he should, but as I type this I feel like I don't even want to do that. I just feel like fighting the insurance company is futile, and I don't feel that strongly about it, so why should I make myself angry and emotional when I have an opportunity to just move on?
What really bothers me about all of this is semantic. I am angry that T and I are not considered infertile. According to my insurance company, a genetic defect is not a qualifying event for the use of donor sperm. According to my insurance company, multiple miscarriage does not equal infertility. According to my insurance company, because we requested an IUI with FSH injectables, we cannot go back to just doing a monitored Clomid cycle because you are not allowed to go 'backwards' with your treatment. If I had the time and gumption I feel like I might be able to fight for some coverage, but at this time I have neither. It feels appealing that we will be done with all of these dIUIs in a mere four months from now. I just keep going back to that thought about us not being infertile, though. It galls me. But I guess that's what I get for trying to apply logic to a bureaucracy that tries to not pay for anything so that it can make money.
It has been 2 years since T's diagnosis, and almost two and a half since my first miscarriage. Cycling exhausts me. I need to use up the three vials of donor sperm we own, but I am feeling incredibly antsy and like I no longer have options. It seems that the bottom line is that we need to start a home study so we can move forward with adoption. If I am not doing injectables and whatnot, perhaps starting the home study process won't be quite so overwhelming.
The thing is, I feel like we have no hope to have a baby in less than about 2 years from now. I was pregnant for the first time when I was still 33, and it is a real possibility that we will not have our first child until I am 38. This disappearance of years of my life into a black hole of trying to start a family is devastating to me. I hear over and over that the 30s are the best times of your life. You settle down, work your job, start your family. I did one wonderful thing in my 30s, and that is marry my husband, T. He is sweet and supportive and I never thought I would love somebody the way that I love T. I really feel like our marriage is strong, even through this adversity. I don't want to diminish my marriage or my great relationship with T, but aside from this wonderful thing, my 30s have been hell. I have had a series of bad jobs, miscarriages and disappointments in trying to start a family. My grandparents all passed away, and I saw my delight in other people's children disappear.
I just want to have an average life with an average family. I am exhausted by this roller coaster, and I can't believe the wait and the roller coaster that lies ahead of us as we enter the adoption world.
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14 comments:
The 30's thing has totally gotten to me, too. Especially when put into context that everyone says it's supposed to be the best time of our lives. To be honest, I'm totally dreading my 36th birthday this year. Because then it becomes official ... I'm part of the "upper 30's" crowd. Except unlike my peers, I don't have the children that are "just starting school" or already involved in sports, etc.
Anyway, just wanted to send a HUG your way and let you know that I can totally relate to this post.
It's feels stupid to say this over and over again, but I'm so, so sorry that you have to deal with all these obstacles and all this pain. As you said, the insurance companies have a huge incentive to figure out whatever way possible to deny treatment -- which is ridiculous and unfair.
i hate insurance companies. they jsut weasel out of the things they know they need to pay. blech.
lkie niobe says, it seems stupid to keep saying it, but i too am sorry. you deserve.better.
I don't know how one wouldn't be exhausted having to fight this fight for so long. And the hits are simply too unfair. The human body we can't control. Compassion we can. And the insurance thing is just salt in the wound.
I'm 44 - soon to be 45. Married when I was 40 with the "joy" of have PCOS. My husband is a great man, but really is not interested in having a baby. :-( I say that you are lucky that T is at least willing to try. IF I ever become a mom, it will be through adoption, but although my husband will discuss this topic in passing, we aren't anywhere "close" to adoption happening soon. I agree with you - I wish I had a happy life with a happy family including a couple of kids, but I just don't think that is going to happen. I wonder why I was ever even put on this planet!
I am so sorry for all you have had to endure. Insurance companies make me so sick. They are supposed to cover things that affect a person's quality of life - how can years of infertility and miscarriages not affect one's quality of life.
Your insurance co's definition of infertility stinks. Absolutely stinks.
I'm so sorry everything is so very difficult. I understand the 30s thing. My timeline is very similar to yours. Also I think that the length of time that you (we) have suffered is so exhausting. It never seems to end, huh?
The insurance thing is just awful. I'm in the UK but my struggles with the NHS seem as frustrating. I don't understand why even more obstacles are thrown in front of an already difficult journey.
I so hear you...
hi, I came over from mel to say (like everyone else) I'm so sorry that you have to deal with this frustration on top of the sorrows of loss and infertility. it's maddening. I can hear the ache in your words. insurance companies are the worst.
I also feel the black hole syndrome too. what a horrible thing to be living your life in search of something so fundamental that we keep being denied. I first discovered my infertility at about 32, and I'll be 39 in a few months and no closer to a baby. so I hear you. it sucks.
sending you some virtual support. ~luna
Found you through Mel, and I just wanted to agree with you that insurance companies are only designed for one thing- to make money and not really help people. Not infertile? They're kidding right? Perhaps some compassionate reporter would find that interesting to report? If a genetic component doesn't make you infertile I don't know what does. I can understand you not wanting to fight them, you're already so exhausted with so many other things - you'll find a way to fund your other efforts.
Im so sorry for the struggle you are going through. I cant believe that it is allowed for these insurance companies to find every possible angle NOT to cover someone.
That's a shame about your insurance. Resolve uses a definition of infertility that includes multiple miscarriages. I hate insurance companies!
I often think that one of the most difficult things about this TTC with IF process is looking back over all the weeks, months, years, waiting, and money spent only to realize that you have nothing ut heartache and more uncertainty to show for it. Unfair doesn't even begin to describe it. Having an insurance company deny coverage can feel as if the entire world is stacked against you. It can be morale destroying.
We have two things in common: donor sperm and beginning the foster-adopt process. I'm hoping that the switch in focus alone with infuse me with my lost enthusiasm for this process. I hope it does the same for you.
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