Brackets and Other Broken Things

My bracket is busted.  Broken beyond repair.  Unlike last year, I’m probably going to lose to my husband this time.

Admittedly, I didn’t take much time or care in filling out my bracket this year.  I actually did it the evening after I woke up in the middle of the night puking, so I wasn’t in great shape.  And I committed the cardinal sin of picking the team closest to us geographically (practically across the street, actually) to make it to the final.  They lost in the first round.

The worst part about losing is that I’d signed up for a $10,000 prize if I had the best-of-all-brackets.  Money that could have gone toward our next attempt at IVF.  I knew the chances were slim, but unlike our most recent bet, I had nothing to lose.

$$$

During Hubby’s Skype interview yesterday, he was informed that he was one of four people they were talking to before making a final decision.  He was joking that he’d made it to the final four.  The closest he’s gotten so far to having an offer in hand.  By the end of next week, there will be one person left standing.  I hope it’s my husband.

He keeps saying things like, “Maybe the other people will have a problem with all the travel,” or “Maybe the first person they offer it to will turn it down.”  I have to remind him that he doesn’t want to get a job because everyone else sucks.  He wants the job that’s the right fit for him, and with an organization that knows how great he is.  Of course, at this point, I’m also thinking any ol’ job will do.  But I don’t tell him that.

Another company has also shown interest in him and wants to set up an interview, so maybe this is the start of a good trend.  Maybe things are finally starting to go our way.

$$$

Yesterday in therapy, Dr. N encouraged me to think of any money we spend on IVF as an investment in the possibility to have a child.  After everything we’ve already invested–hope, time, emotional upheaval–with nothing in return, I have a hard time thinking of this investment as anything but wasted.  And I can’t help but think any future attempts will end the same way.  No one in their right mind would continue to make that kind of investment.  But here we sit, still contemplating ways to do just that.  We can’t claim we’re naive, so it must be stupidity or delusion leading us down this path again.

That or dumb, fucking hope.

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13 thoughts on “Brackets and Other Broken Things

  1. lady, I hope they pick him for the job! but still… there’s nothing wrong with hoping the other candidates all come down with raging cases of genital herpes that mean they can’t leave their houses for months.

  2. I’ve never filled out a bracket for March Madness bc I don’t follow basketball, and sadly am not even 100% sure what it means when someone says theirs is busted.
    Keeping fingers crossed for hubby and the job. As for the investment idea – I hear you. I am SUPER crazy about money and would probably feel the same way, but its amazing what we will do I think. If our cycle hadn’t worked we talked about moving to another state to follow a job that hubby was doing at the time just to be able to continue to try. HUGS

  3. That’s great news about your husband and his job prospects. I really hope one of the two works out for him. As for the money issue, I hear you all the way. I keep thinking we should just be saving it for something like adoption costs instead of throwing it away on treatments that won’t work. There’s a quote from Albert Einstein where he defines insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” Sometimes IVF feels like that to me. Sorry you’re feeling like this too.

    • I threw the same quote at my husband on our way into the follow-up with Dr. C as explanation for why I wanted him to tell us we’d do things differently next time. Of course, that’s not how that conversation ended up going.

  4. I know what you mean about how the money can so weigh you down. My MIL has actually been the most comforting, reminding us that if you’re going to spend vast sums of money on something, this is one of the best reasons to do that.

    Good luck with your husband’s job prospects. I hope he wins all his brackets.

  5. It’s hope. Isn’t that why we all do what we do? Wishing your hubs the very best in being #1 for the job! You guys deserve to have things finally go your way.

  6. The thing that ticks me off about IVF is this idea that you do it, but do not get results from it, you still have to pay. It should be, you get your money back or at least part of it, if it didn’t work out. I hope it all works out in all future endeavors, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for your husband. I’m working as an adjunct at the moment, very poor pay (I teach 3 classes per term and get 1/4 of the salary of tenure-track assistant professors) and no health benefits). The job market is slim and so very competitive, and I’m not willing to relocate because DH is a tenured Professor, my parents, aunts and uncle (who do not have children) are all in their 80s and I cannot think about being away from them now… Slim chance DH and I could get a job in the same city. So, I am open to other things, but it is tough because this is what you were trained to do for long years.

    • Yup. Even my RE says insurance should cover IVF. It’s ridiculous

      Hubby’s working as an adjunct at the moment, too. He makes less than he did as a TA and with none of the benefits. I can’t believe universities can get away with it.

  7. It always comes down to the money. I hate that! I wish that we all could just have insurance coverage. That would be amazing. What your RE said about seeing it as an investment is good advice, but the thing is, you’ve been seeing it that way since the beginning! I’m sure your RE could pay for limitless cycles of IVF just by emptying out his change jar! So it’s easy for him to say! But if you don’t have the money, you don’t have the money. We’re in the same boat. Argh!!!

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