So after insurance the IUI is going to cost about 550, or so depending on meds. We can’t really afford it. But we are going to put it on the credit card. One try.
They said the hubby’s count was still low, but the motility was better so why not give it a go?
Without his issue my chances (at my age) with meds is around 7% success on any given cycle. With just his issue, (assuming a 9 million count post wash) is around 5%. Lets combine both and we are talking, realistically, somewhere around less than 1%.
I’m not feeling it. I mean lets be honest, those kinds of chances don’t warrant me spending a dime. I’m not a gambler. And its really a good bit of money. Like two weeks pay.
But if I don’t do it we’ll never have closure. And if it fails, well, I get to grieve it and move on. Or so they tell me.
But what if we spend a couple thousand and then we get a success? How would we afford the things we’d need for the baby with the debt? What if I lost my job? I know I know, what if the sky fell. But I have to think about this kind of thing.
And then there is the spending of money we don’t have with low odds. Less than 1% for a pregnancy, not a take home baby. I don’t want to even think about the odds there. Let’s not even mention that again…
$550. Almost a paycheck. Almost a house payment. Almost a baby.
But not quite. 1% (I rounded up for happiness sake) chance. I could be that 1%. I DO win contests sometimes. It’s possible. It’s just not probable at my age with the conditions we are facing.
Sometimes I talk myself out of a baby. I tell myself I’m too selfish or too mean or too ugly or too, something, to have a kid. That I’d be the worst mom ever. Sometimes, like today, that 1% seems like 100% and I just imagine cuddling with a newborn, and watching my toddler scamper about, and looking at a kiddo that’s half me and half my darling husband.
Then the tears come. And I remember that one chance in 100 isn’t very much. I close my eyes and for a moment I don’t think about 1 in 100. For a moment I’m a mom and I’m holding a sweet baby of mine, and about to explode from the love. I imagine the moment we tell everyone, and I imagine the nursery, and I imagine motherhood. Then I open my eyes, wet from my tears, and I remember that the odds are not in our favor, and chances are I’ll be on my deathbed telling some snarky nurse my greatest regret was that I’d never had a family. That we couldn’t afford IVF, that adoption was too risky and expensive, and that we walked away and that I never recovered.
Then the anger at God wells up inside, and I fight it like St. George did the dragon. I’m so pissed that God decided I didn’t need to be a mom, but that a F-ing crack head gets to have six. Or someone that abuses their child gets to have several, and I, the one who really would be a great parent, gets nothing.
Life isn’t fair. I get that.
Then I look at my bank account and decide one IUI on the credit card won’t break us. It will take several months to pay off, but one chance in 100 is better than none, and I decide to spend the money on the off chance this was all some kind of joke. Maybe we will try in April. Maybe in March. I don’t know.
I DO know that infertility sucks and no one deserves to go through it. Ever.