Whatever you do, do NOT go and look at the tab at the top of my blog titled “Prepare Yourselves: The cost of infertility.” Seriously, don’t go look at it.
Ok, go look. I’ll wait.
Did you see the total cost down at the bottom? Join me for a moment of silence, will you, and then feel bad for me.
As of late last week, we have officially spent a grand total of over $24,000 for this kid who still doesn’t even exist.
That’s right. We have chosen a donor and the cost of the transfer cycle for Texas has been paid in full: $12,210.
We put the whole fucking thing on a credit card. (If you have never put twelve grand on a credit card for a purchase you may or may not receive, then you don’t get to tell me to watch my potty mouth.)
It’s done and paid for and we have staked claim to 8 frozen eggs, ready for fertilization in October.
This whole thing is terrifying, you guys. One misstep and it’s over and done and that twelve grand is gone. Gone.
What if we get to Texas and none of the eggs survive the thaw? What if none make it to transfer? What if I transfer an embryo, fly back home, endure the Two Week Wait, only to have the pregnancy test turn out negative? What if I do get pregnant and I have a miscarriage? That money, that Twelve. Thousand. Dollars… is gone.
It’s enough to make you want to cry.
Speaking of wanting to cry, check out the post I wrote last week for mom.me. It’s about the visit we had with the psychologist to get on the wait list for the clinic here in Minnesota. It’s more ranty-raging from yours truly about parenting the child of egg donation:
I’m not ashamed to admit that I used to get so angry at pregnancy announcements on Facebook. I’d roll my eyes, thinking, “Well isn’t that nice? I’m so glad you were able to get knocked up so quickly and then call it your “widdle bitty miracle baby!” Whatever. (Ok, maybe sometimes I still think this).
I wouldn’t say I get angry now, seeing these announcements. And for the most part, I’ve stopped rolling my eyes (that’s now reserved for gender-reveal parties only).
Now, when I see the announcements (more and more on Facebook lately, as I think people are now truly feeling pity for me and don’t want to tell me about their pregnancy in person), I simply think, “If only.” As in, if only it were that easy for me. And it has nothing to do with being bitter, or wanting people to feel bad for me. (Ignore the beginning of this post.) (I mean it, I swear.)
It’s me feeling jealous because I think of all the things I could be spending my money on, and how it’s not going to happen because all my money and then some, is being spent of the glimmer of hope for something most get so easily.
One of the hardest things to hear from fertiles is this: “You just have to keep in mind, kids are expensive.”
Yes, Fertile, yes they are. In fact, you have no idea how expensive kids are. I’ve spent almost twenty five thousand dollars on my kid and guess what? That’s all before they were even born.