My house is empty.
This is not a metaphor for infertility.
Two weeks after arriving in our new home, we are still camping out on the floor. The moving company we hired still hasn’t delivered our stuff!
It was supposed to be delivered last week, but on the promised delivery date I called our move coordinator, who informed me that all of our stuff was still sitting in the warehouse in our previous city! Worst of all, my credit card has been charged. I have paid in full for this move, and I’m sitting on the floor here.
I called the moving company’s customer service line and they told me that they would not refund our money, but they will reimburse certain expenses. We have bought an air mattress, a card table, a cheap chef’s knife and a cutting board. Technically the knife and cutting board are not reimbursable — they will pay for dishes and silverware but no cooking implements — but my husband is just itching to yell at these people, so we’re going to try to get them to pay for it.
Our new delivery date is tomorrow. Fingers crossed! If they don’t make delivery, I feel like they should reverse the charges on my credit card. Any advice on how to approach this? It just doesn’t sit right with me (to say the least) that they have my money AND my stuff
***EDIT: I just heard from our move coordinator. Our stuff will not be delivered tomorrow as promised. Next week at the earliest.***
My house is empty.
This is a metaphor for infertility.
After a hiatus of nearly a year (last urologist appointment was last December), I’ve made an appointment with a new clinic. Unfortunately our new insurance is even worse than our old insurance — we used to have coverage for office visits and testing only, but now we don’t have even that. They won’t even cover the initial office visit. The office visit is going to be $278, the SA is going to be $165, and any testing they decide to repeat on me will be out of pocket as well.
$443 just to get in the door.
And then after that, unless my husband’s numbers are a lot better than they were the last time we checked, we will be looking at IVF.
But the alternative is never. And here’s where I start to sound like a selfish bitch.
I know I can be a parent through adoption, and I know that if we do adopt I will love that child to the end of the earth.
But parenting is supposed to follow pregnancy.
I want to be pregnant. This is not about the child — whom I will love and care for even if he or she was gestated on Mars — it’s about me. I want this. This is something my body is supposed to be able to do, and I want to do it.
I hate and fear the idea of IVF, but I want to be pregnant more.
When I think about the resources it will take, the emotional mess I will be, the debt we will incur, the only thing that makes it feel like anything other than a wasteful display of excess is that adoption would cost just as much.