On September 16th, Brad and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. We ate cake, bought me some flowers, ran out of gas on the highway, and had an amazing dinner overlooking Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. We didn't let the baby stuff get in our way and I'm so glad for that. I love that man so much. He is my favorite.
Fancy dinner time!
Since then, we have made a pact to not buy anything for birthdays or Christmas this year. Growing our family is our priority.
We had talked about adopting well before we even tried having a baby, so it wasn't any surprise to us that we went ahead with investigating that as an option. We've been attending our training class for three weeks now and look to be approved by February or March. The program we're going through will lead us through a straight adoption or a foster-to-adopt situation. The state of Kentucky pays for all costs associated with adoption, so that is saving us $20,000-$30,000. We like knowing that our approval will be in place so that we can adopt when we're ready.
We've also been chugging along with infertility treatments. I've been doing my homework with our insurance carrier to ensure coverage and even had appointments lined up. My insurance company set up a telephone conference with me for this past Monday just so we could clarify coverage. Overall, IVF was covered, but I was getting some inconsistencies as to the nuts and bolts of covered procedures. Well, on Monday they called to clarify that IVF IS NOT A COVERED PROCEDURE.
I was pissed. I had two months of countless telephone calls (kept in a notebook with representative's name and reference number of call) that had confirmed coverage. Now, they were taking it all away and offering me a simple, "Sorry." I'm still so, so angry. The lady that I spoke with encouraged me to appeal and cited all of the documentation that I had.
Long story short, Brad and I are making a go of this this winter. We're scheduling the appointment to extract his sperm and I will start the first round of self-injectables in about seven weeks. By the time we do our first injectables, I need to pay the office $9,000. That doesn't count the $1800 for Brad's procedure ($1200 if he just does this with a local anesthesia) or the drugs I'll need (around $4,000). The cost is huge. One of my drugs is $3,000 alone. The office can obtain samples of that, but they're not sure they'll have them in time for me.
I'm a wreck at work. I don't feel like I'm doing my job to the best of my ability. Most people around me know what is going on and, in a women-majority workforce, they understand and help me out. It still doesn't mean that I feel good about it. I am trying to relax at this point. I'm going to start crafting the appeal letter now so that I have the letter and accompanying documentation ready to be mailed when we finish procedures in late December/early January.
The part that still creeps to the front of my mind when I'm trying to work and live my life is that there is no guarantee. Brad wants this to be a one-shot deal and I support him in that. He is supporting me through trying it once. Not only is the financial cost huge (and I hope to recoup $9000 of that back from the appeal), but the emotional cost is greater. We're going to ask for two embryos to be implanted, but there is no guarantee that we'll get good embryos to implant or that either one of them will stick. I am gearing myself up for that because I will still need to go through the appeal process. It will nearly break me, I'm sure, to appeal and fight for a failed IVF attempt. The emotional scars will be great.
I guess I'm asking for support right now. I need prayers. I need snark about insurance companies. I need letters of support and hugs. I need money. If you can help with any of the above, I'll be happy to give you my address. There is nothing better than getting a card in the mail and knowing that someone cares. I have two of those cards and they live in my files and doctor notes as a reminder that Brad and I are strong enough to get through this. That we're not the only ones going through it.
Thank you for reading this. I know a lot of people are curious as to how everything is going. I'm going crazy over here and trying to be strong. It's hard to write about everything, but I'm trying to keep you all updated. I still feel like we are supposed to share our story and I'm still working out how to best do that.
Melanie
melaniemcb at gmail dot com
2 comments:
I found your blog via Betterinrealife, and just wanted to say: insurance sucks, and I'm so sorry they're putting you through that. That is completely gut-wrenching and I can only hope that they are flayed. :( :( :(
Wishing you huge amounts of luck with this. I can't imagine the insurance battle, although we've had our fair share of bad news with the socialized medicine system here too. Just keeping everything crossed for you guys (fingers, toes, eyes) that the procedures all work the first time and that you can get it covered.
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