ivf got this
my first appointment at kindbody
being a mom is something i’ve always wanted. come sunday, i’ll be 36 - officially considered “geriatric” or of “advanced maternal age” to become pregnant.
i felt compelled to write about my fertility journey because it doesn’t really get talked about on a socially acceptable level, and it’s something we’re definitely not taught in school. when roughly 11% of women of reproductive age are going to experience fertility issues, isn’t that a big deal? isn’t that worth discussing and teaching?
this post isn’t meant to be reflective. it’s just honest. it’s me telling you where my journey started, how it went, how it’s going, and all my feelings. i’ll spare you a lot of details, but i’m always here if you ever want to talk.
in january, with everything going on in my life, what i was grieving most was this life i had envisioned - it felt so real until it became a mere fantasy. i thought i would’ve been pregnant with my first child around this time this year. i felt like everything was stripped away from me at this point and i felt so stupid. i spiraled so quickly. it became so hard to talk to myself with compassion and respect. nobody prepared me for this.
nobody prepared me for what this ivf journey really meant. i don’t know what’s harder to face: the mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion or the sticker shock and financial burden you face long-term. ultimately, you have to ask yourself: is motherhood that important to you and is all of that worth it regardless of the outcome?
eighty percent of americans who go through fertility treatment have little to no insurance coverage. this financial burden layers onto women of color, lgbtqia+, and single people. why? because health policies don’t exist to promote economic equity in the workplace. sure, do over 50% of the largest corporations provide fertility benefits? they do, but here’s the thing: they’ll only cover it if you’re in a heterosexual relationship and can somehow prove that you and your partner have been trying to conceive for over a year to be qualified as infertile. on top of that, fertility benefits can be defined by a wide range of treatments and services that’s up to the employer to decide what they want to cover.
ivf is a luxury.
ivf is a luxury and i got very lucky. i’m thankful for my employer and for living in illinois - thanks j.b.
if you know me on a personal level, you know my entire academic and professional background sits within the healthcare industry. i’m health literate and can navigate the system better than the average american. i know how frustrated i got trying to get answers, so i can’t even imagine what some must have felt or may be going through.
when i joined my company, i had no idea they offered fertility benefits. when i started this process, i remembered i had seen an email blast come out about how they offered family planning benefits but they never told us what that meant. i had to call human resources to ask what family planning benefits entailed and if that included fertility benefits. they couldn’t give me a straight answer other than the fact that they found something on the intranet stating they did cover egg retrieval, egg freezing, iui, and ivf, but they weren’t allowed to share the link… my own hr department couldn’t share with me an internal link to my own benefits. was my employer not wanting to market this to potential employees and their own team members? i was furious when they told me to call my insurance plan.
i eventually learned that my employer covered $50k over my lifetime, then later learned specialty medications were covered up to $15k. i was relieved, and here’s why…
my total cost of care for now is $77,269+
for full transparency, i wanted to share the breakdown. anything with an * indicates what ultimately wasn’t fully or partially covered by my insurance:
*$179, at-home otc modern fertility hormone test - hsa/fsa can be applied
$300, virtual fertility consult
$4500, workup and labs (may vary per cycle)
*$5000, fibroid surgery + medication
*$18,000, injectable and oral medication for egg retrieval; e.g., leuprolide, hcg, ganirelix, follistim ($756 per vial), menopur ($439.50 per box) - unfortunately i only have the costs for follistim and menopur as those are the only additional drugs i ordered for the second cycle
$7500, egg freezing per cycle (2x)
$100-2000, genetic testing - varies on the complexity of the test required by the fertility clinic
$840, egg storage (annually)
*$1255, donor sperm per vial (2x)
$840, donor sperm storage (annually)
$tbd, egg thawing (2x)
*$tbd, injectable and/or oral medication for ivf per cycle
$15,000, ivf (2x)
you would think that my biggest complaint is the cost, but it hasn’t been. instead, it’s been the lack of transparency and lack of guidance provided by my clinical team from my fertility clinic. i’ve continued to hear and read about how this is pretty consistent across various clinics - beware!
my doctor never once mentioned i’d only ever see them at the initial consult and then at the egg retrieval (i saw them twice in a span of 6 months)
i didn’t know what to expect at every appointment
i didn’t know how to self-administer my drugs because nobody showed me or shared instructional videos
i didn’t know what i should and shouldn’t be doing pre- and post-egg retrieval
i didn’t know how my body would change throughout the process and the symptoms i’d experience
i didn’t receive clinical check-in calls from my care team
look, if you start this journey, i’m here for you. this has been one heck of a ride, but i know i’ve got this and so do you.
from the very beginning of picking out my fertility clinic, fibroid surgery, the massive box of meds, before egg retrieval, prepped for egg retrieval, post egg retrieval (holy bloating!), and then 13 of 19 eggs retrieved managed to get frozen. onto the second cycle…
