06 November 2007

How this came to be (my story)

I've always dreamed about being a stay-at-home-mom: baking cookies, teaching my children how to color inside the lines, giggling all day, and sighing in relaxation when they are finally tucked into bed. R didn't really have a "parenthood" dream, but when he heard mine he promised to make it come true. He started trying to fulfill that promise the day we got married. We knew my endometriosis might cause a problem, but everybody I personally knew with endometriosis had children without treatments and we thought we'd be just as lucky.

One year later, on our anniversary, we got our very first positive pregnancy test. We cried, I slept sitting up because I was so nauseous all night long. A week later I was already a DD (up from a decent C), but that night I didn't need to prop myself up. A few days after that, the doctor confirmed that I was no longer pregnant. One whole year of trying, charting my temperature, peeing on any kind of testing device I could find (only the last 3 months, I stayed POAS-free for the first 9 months), and my baby was dead before I had a chance to experience even the first awkward OB appointment. Another 18 months of trying, laparoscopy to remove endometrial adhesions and cysts (and also move one ovary back into position, as it had been yanked back and down due to the adhesions), screaming with pain as dye was injected to see if my fallopian tubes were open, never buying another pregnancy test because I knew I was barren. We finally decided to give up, I got a prescription for birth control to help "control" the endometriosis until we were ready to try again. I was waiting for my period so I could start taking the pills, it came late. I was in an excited daze as I rushed to the store to buy a pregnancy test. Positive, barely. The next day my period came, but the test was still positive, barely. I begged my new doctor for a blood test, I went in later that day, and it was too low. This baby didn't even truly exist before it was gone.

Today we should be preparing for my firstborn's second birthday (a bit early, but I like to be well prepared), the new baby just a couple months old. Most of the family would be meeting the new baby for the first time at Thanksgiving Dinner. I would be washing baby socks, cursing how fast a toddler's feet grow as I pack a diaper bag to go to the store for yet another pair of shoes, and humming lullabies as I nurse my infant to sleep, big brother/sister sharing our rocking chair and humming along, R watching from across the room and smiling. Instead we are doing nothing. We aren't even seeing a specialist to help us make our dreams a reality. We can't. Our insurance won't cover medications or procedures, they have denied our request for even a consultation with the reproductive endocrinologist. It is pretty much set in stone that we will never be able to get pregnant the "old fashioned" way, and now we are also being denied treatment that would get around the medical condition I have been diagnosed with.

If my legs didn't work, they'd give me a wheelchair and physical therapy and a special car with speed control on the steering wheel. If I couldn't see, I'd get some sunglasses, a cool dog, books on tape, brail writing on bathroom doors. If I had cancer, people would wear ribbons to support me, women would grow their hair extra long so they could donate it for wigs, my struggle would have everybody standing by me and trying to help. But I can't have a baby. Women don't have egg donation parties, people don't see my empty womb and offer to read the menu for me if it doesn't come in a "fertility impaired" version, movies don't have a "child free for the emotionally devastated" option. But I don't care if society does anything to make my life easier, all I want is insurance coverage. Let me have the same pregnancy abilities as everybody else.

7 comments:

Lollipop Goldstein said...

This is chilling and emotional and fantastic, Roy. You hit it out of the park.

Anonymous said...

This is very well writen! I couldn't have said it better myself! Chin up little buck-a-roo, as my husband always tells me.

IdleMindOfBeth said...

Wonderful post Roy. Thank you for speaking the truth so beautifully.

Tracy said...

Wow. I could weep right now. Thank you for writing. I'm so sorry...for all of us.

I'm in Michigan, too. Is this your "home?" Born and raised...Love it. Wish it weren't so down in the dumps right now, but it's home.

PCOSMama said...

Hallelujah Sister!

I admit to being one of the lucky few who has insurance coverage for some infertility treatments (up to IUI), as long as they are done at certain milit@ry hospitals. However, we were nowhere near one when we were trying for our daughter. As fate had it, we were blessed and conceived with just injectible meds, the month before moving on to completely out-of-pocket IUIs.

I don't understand how infertility can continue to be denied coverage. For example, they will cover lung cancer for a lifelong smoker, but not fertility treatments for conditions that we did nothing to contribute to. That's total bs and I don't understand how the insurance companies can continue getting away with it. To me, it's discrimination.

No matter how you look at it, it's just not fair.

Julia said...

I am so sorry, Roy. This is beyond unfair.
Little did I know when I chose a college to go to that I would then choose that place to make my home, and, as an extra special bonus, that it will have mandated coverage. Freaking lucky I am.

Nessa said...

That last paragraph is exactly how I feel. Thank you for putting it into words.