This was the subject line of Hubby’s email. Turns out he was able to get three months’ worth of Menopur for only two grand. As opposed to the $6000 it would have cost us here. Yikes. He’s going to get a total of six months’ worth, but apparently he bought out the pharmacy and they had to order more. Double yikes. It’s pretty sad when we actually celebrate dropping two G’s two days apart. But it should get us through the next six months, and we figure he’ll need the stuff for at least that long. Even if we get enough sperm for IVF/ICSI sooner, I’m guessing the docs will recommend keeping Hubby on his meds until we get enough for freezable samples. I don’t think he wants to go through all of this again if/when we decide we want another kid a few years down the road.
I don’t know. I have this vision of myself being okay with just one pregnancy (if we’re lucky enough to get that). I like to think that after one biological child, we’d continue to grow our family through adoption. Not that it’s a second choice, for me, anyway. After working with children and families as long as I have, my heart goes out to those kids who really need a loving home, and I’ve always thought of myself as someone who could provide that. It’s something that I’ve always wanted.
Growing up, adoption was seen as a positive thing in my house. We have a blended family (same mom, different dads), and I remember hearing only pleasant things about my mom’s second husband, who adopted my two oldest sisters, giving them his name, and really being the only father they ever knew. He died long before I was born, but I think his youngest son and my dad had a similar relationship. My brother was only 6 months old when his father died, so, even though my dad didn’t adopt any of my older siblings, he was the only dad in my brother’s life. All of my older siblings, including my brother, always called my dad by his first name. But on the day of my mother’s funeral, as my brother was leaving, he said “Love you, Dad.” That was the first and only time I ever heard him refer to my father that way, and it brought tears to my eyes.
When I was a kid, I had a mothering instinct, and I was always looking out for stray baby animals I could take care of. I did bring home a stray kitten, even feeding it with an eye-dropper, that became the first pet that was all mine. I know a cat is not the same as a baby (don’t even get me started on the term “furbaby”), but I felt, even as a child, the need to nurture, to love and be loved by another living creature, even if we weren’t related by blood.
Hubby, on the other hand, has taken a little more convincing, but now adoption is something we openly discuss as a real option for us. He hated the idea of foster adoption when I first brought it up, but I think he’s coming around to that, too. Of course, he wants to try to have a biological child(ren) first. I understand that. It seems like everyone outside this community gets to have that without even considering other options. But honestly, I feel like I’ve been waiting so long, since long before we started treatments, that I just want to have a child in my arms, in my home, and I don’t care how it gets here.
But I’m getting ahead of myself, as I always do. Treatments first. Then IVF. Then (hopefully) baby. And then we’ll see. Hubby and I always talk about the brood we’re going to have (through multiples, if he had his way!), but maybe we’ll be one and done. Maybe that will be enough to complete our family. Or maybe I just need to stop thinking about it and go to bed.