I’ve had some really good days in the past couple of weeks. Hubby has even commented that it’s so nice to see me happy and smiling again. But I smiled with a secret twinkle in my eye. Because the reason I was feeling so happy was that I had a plan. A way to get back on the IVF crazy-train and try again.
I was composing a list of questions in my head. Questions that I was planning to unload on whoever answered the phone when I called the number on the fertility financing brochure our clinic had given us. Questions that I was sure would be answered in a way that would allow us to proceed with a fresh cycle by the start of my next period.
So when I came home from work on Wednesday, I called. I had my list of questions, which I checked off, one by one, as the helpful woman on the other end of the line provided me the answers. Like, that if we did PGS again, we wouldn’t qualify for the refund guarantee. Which we wouldn’t qualify for anyway, unless we bought a package of three fresh and three frozen cycles. At the bargain price of $30,000. Not including ICSI. Or meds.
Needless to say, when I hung up the phone, I was not feeling my new, chipper self of the previous days. I was back to low spirits and low expectations. I was back to doubting we’d ever get another shot at this.
The next day, I called Hubby during a lull in my work day. He’d come up with a plan of his own. Which involved flying to his home country, begging his family for money, and interviewing for jobs while he was there. That’s still his plan. And, as much as I’m trying to get on board, it doesn’t exactly sound like how I want to spend a two-week “vacation,” especially knowing that his family could give us more money, and it still wouldn’t guarantee his dad another grandchild.
Other options? Well, they all involve moving to another country. It seems a little unfair that the best way for us to afford another round of IVF is to MOVE OUT OF THE FUCKING COUNTRY.
Of course, that also requires international shipment of Hubby’s spermsicles.
I don’t know how, but we’ll figure it out. This is my new mantra. We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it the fuck out.
Because what other choice do we have.