Even a journey through secondary infertility (or infertility of any ilk) has its occasional pleasant surprise. Sometimes, you hit the jackpot of surprises. Today is one of those days for me.
First, I got a call back from the RE’s assistant telling me our appointments for the scary ultrasound and for injection teaching are next Wednesday, not in about 2 weeks as I’d expected (and been led to believe from a prior call). Hello, surprise #1. It’s a little harried organizing my own and the LP’s work schedule and child care and two flights and all, but I’ll take it if it means getting this party started sooner than expected. Yay for us!
Then what happened? The most awesome surprise to date on this journey to date. No, I’m not pregnant with a healthy child. Yet. It’s not that good. I did say “to date”, meaning the best IVF-related news we’ve had so far. Keep reading.
Background: I called the LP’s benefits provider recently. No coverage for fertility drugs. No surprise there. We work in the same profession so I was expecting much the same when I called mine. I was so sure it would be another bust that (a) I hadn’t called yet and had no plans to until someone else in a similar situation said she got some of her drugs covered so I thought I better ask even though it was very unlikely the same would be true for us; and (b) I was multi-tasking while I asked the first question (does my policy cover any fertility medications?). As expected, that got me on hold.
I’m still multi-tasking when the woman takes me off of hold and says, “yes, you have 6 months’ lifetime.” I was so stunned, I sputtered my best “what?” before following up with “sorry, my clinic gave me a long list, do I just tell you the names or the DINs (numbers for the specific drugs/dosages) and you tell me if any are excluded?” Her turn to say “what?”
I regained my composure and said I’ve never done this before and don’t really know how this works. I want to find out if the drugs I might be taking are covered or excluded. Does she have a list we can cross-reference? This got me back on hold. After some more to-ing and fro-ing, the woman confirmed everything on my shopping list is 100% covered except the PIO (progesterone in oil, an injectable form you take after the eggies get sucked out of your lady parts so the uterus can make a nice plush lining for the critters to hunker down for the winter, summer or both, as the case may be). I’m okay with that. I’m sure if every conconction is on her list, the PIO will be covered, too (if it even gets prescribed).
This leads to my unsolicited advice to anyone in a similar boat. Do not assume you have zero coverage. Call and ask! Best phone call I made today. Heck, I’m going out on a limb. Best call I’ll make all week. That’s between $3,000-$6,000 in savings. Double yay for us!
In other IVF-for-the-over-40 news, I’m equal parts excited, scared and hopeful about getting this party started.
I’m a little scared of the SHG – an ultrasound in which they cram your uterus full of saline to check if there are any scars, polyps, aliens (hey, I remember Sigourney Weaver in her heyday — or was that hairday?) and other interesting paraphenalia. I’m hoping for an “all clear, full steam ahead” report after that test. I hear it can be quite painful, much worse than an HSG, which is not the same thing for anyone googling weird tests on your lady parts (an HSG involves saline in your falopian tubes to check if they’re clear of blockages or other anomalies). And of course I’m scared I’ll get bad news (something wrong with the lady bits post-D&C) or, much worse, that this whole IVF thing won’t work. Given the odds are against us, that’s a pretty reasonable – albeit entirely unhelpful – fear. I’ve got my EFT training tonight to help me learn to address that fear, however. “Even though I am afraid this won’t work…”
I’m excited because, as my acupuncturist said, the double good news surprises today suggest that more good news should follow (who says it’s only bad things that happen in threes?). And having a chance to make more eggs (hopefully) in the hope that at least one will be a healthy little body for our Spirit Baby to inhabit is pretty exciting. I’m feeling positive about this journey (for the first time, I’m happy to say).
I am hopeful for the same reason – I want this to work. I so desperately, longingly, painfully, tearfully, heartfeltly (okay, not a word, I know), truly, madly and deeply want this to work.
I would like our little Spirit Baby, the little lovebug that keeps coming back but hasn’t stuck around the last 3 times, to come home. Please, little Spirit Baby, please come home.
That would be the most awesome surprise ever.
Wish us luck. Please.
And thanks for reading.