Desperation

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A couple entering a contest for a chance at a free IVF. The guy who stole an air conditioner and then walked down our street trying to sell it during yesterday’s heatwave. Me, inexplicably ravenous, scarfing down a huge free lunch including two chili dogs yesterday.
Portraits of extremes. Desire often drives desperation.
The couple who won the so-called baby contest had faced devastating pregnancy losses and spent thousands in their quest for a child.
They hoped that an IVF, which is often not covered by insurance and can cost between $15k-$20k would help. Experts say the contest for a free IVF cycle is exploitive of infertile couples’ pain. The clinic and its winners say desperate times call for desperate measures.
The hubby and I know all too well both sides.
In our search for an infertility clinic we once visited a place that posted pictures of chubby cheeked babies everywhere and advertised that, with their help, you can have a photo on that wall.
It is a promise they couldn’t possibly fulfill for everyone. Some cases are just beyond medical science.
But, driven by a mixture of hope and desperation, people empty their savings accounts, cash out their 401ks, and take out liens against their homes to pay for treatment.
Our previous rounds tapped out our savings and it has taken years to recover financially. We’re finally at a point where we can consider a new house.
It’s a good thing too because the first thing I thought when that guy tried to sell me that air conditioner was “Crap, that looks like mine! Did he steal that from our house? The hell with being hood adjacent. I’m effing out!”
We were lucky this go round to have insurance coverage and were able to use my flexible spending account to buy most of the $6000 worth of meds we needed this cycle. Most likely the three times daily progesterone supplements I’m taking to help support a possible pregnancy are the culprit for my snack attacks.
That and I LOVE veggie chili dogs!
We were lucky that since our last IVF, medical science made another leap and we were able to use a brand new cutting edge technique designed to reduce the chance of miscarriage. We’ve had two and, while there’s no guarantees, the technology, which was just introduced within the last year, fills me with hope.
We also used assisted hatching to help us along. Think of it as a mama bird cracking the egg a little bit to help the baby bird fight its way out.
All of these extreme measures born of our desperation for a happy ending.
Here’s hoping…

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About domesticpolichick

My life is a crazy jumble of sitcom-level domestic hijinks and fast-paced political reporting in the nation's capital. Breastfeeding while doing a phone interview with a senator...yep, I've done it and no, I won't reveal the name. Toddler calling a member of Congress on the cell..yeah, that really did happen. Pregnant in high heels on Capitol Hill trying to chase down a particularly grumpy senator, yeah...that was nuts. But what can I say? I'm just one domestic polichick trying to figure out the work-life balance.
This entry was posted in Diapers and Deadlines, In the Oven, The Polichick's Handbag and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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