Isolated and Lonely in the Land of Infertility

Oh, yes. Let’s talk about what fertility costs. In my area, which has a high cost of living, basic testing starts at about $1,200. And it’s NOT covered by most insurance plans. And if you start trying to charge it to the insurance plan, you’ll start getting letters from the insurance company about how you’re of an age where pregnancy will be high risk, and they just might yank your health insurance. Oh, yes, that’s clearly illegal, but you know what? The insurance companies are doing it anyway. It’s so sleazy.

So you get your testing done, under the table, so to speak. And all the procedures that combat infertility? Well, let’s see. The cost of an in vitro fertilization in my area, again not covered by insurance, but not like I can tell them anyway, is $17,000 to $22,000 per try. They don’t make any guarantees, mind you. If the first IVF fails to take, then they don’t keep trying until it works. You get one shot for your five-figure fee. Please pay on your way out. But by the time you’re ready for IVF, you’ve already spent thousands on anything else less invasive that the doctor wanted to try, as well as umpteen visits to specialists in herbs and acupuncture and whatever else someone told you about, because their friend got pregnant after using X treatment and it could work for you.

So the harsh cold reality of financial matters has settled in. Do not expect people to be helpful or understanding. People say some really heartless, insensitive, uninformed things about infertility. I get “Have you considered adoption?” all the time. Um, okay. Do you have any idea how difficult adoption can be? First of all, we’re back to the expense. It’s expensive. And adoption in the United States seems to be for those few people who have advanced degrees, spacious houses in ideal suburbs, and lead exemplary lives. If, like us, you’re an ordinary middle or working class person with limited finances, you won’t even get on most adoption agency’s radar. Most won’t even call you back. So you go the gray market route, which is actually the black market, only people don’t talk about it that way. You go to a foreign country, and find the right person (bribes) to take you to the right orphanage (more bribes) and convince an official (even more bribes) to let you take a little unwanted citizen of that country home to your country. I’ve heard the stories. Even if sometimes it seems sickening, I know it works. I know it works, because people are actually making wonderful families in this way. I applaud them. The fact that so many try and succeed is actually sort of heartening.

But that may be a last ditch effort for us. And I am not sure I am up to the arduous journey, because I cannot face much more disappointment. You see, I even tried to be a foster parent. We were turned down as unsuitable. I felt like a felon. I thought what you had to provide was a loving, safe environment for a kid in crisis. It turns out, again, they want a big fat bank account, and one parent type being home (we both work during the day) and something much larger than our one-bedroom apartment. Oh. I see. I understand. But I also thought they needed foster families. I guess they don’t need them as much as I thought.