This is what I need to be doing to cover the ballooning cost of not being able to ovulate on my own. Yes, I know what you’re thinking – I’m not even in IVF-proper land. Heck, I’m still in the junior-miss department of infertility. I’m still on clomid. Just clomid. It’s like romper room over here. Just wait, you’re thinking, just wait until you make it into the major leagues – IVF and all the other acronyms. Then you’ll know what’s what.
Point taken <briefly daydreaming about what I have to look forward to, it’s just like this, right?> But where was I. Yes. Even in the dilettante-department-of-just-Clomid-taking, infertility ain’t free. The total cost of my treatment thus far, excluding co-pays ($25 for each office visit) has been a cool $4,957. Thankfully, insurance has paid for the majority of this. I have had to write several checks (the most recent for $183.38) for expenses that our insurance didn’t cover but I am FULLY aware that I am exceedingly lucky in this regard – that most spend far more; that one measly cycle of IVF can cost double this. But guys, I've barely been at this two months.
I’m a lawyer, (I know, it comes as a shock to me, too), but I make less than an ice-cream store manager; less than a (unionized) tollbooth collector (a career I am now actively exploring). C is a medical resident, a title only bestowed after accumulating approximately 100,000 dollars of student loan debt. I’m
clearly complaining not complaining; we are very
fortunate to have the chance to try and we’re doing okay (so far). But what if
this thing drags on past, oh, I don’t know, tomorrow?
<Please excuse me while I set up the step-ladder needed to mount my soapbox, for I am very short>
*beauty queen wave to crowd* It turns out, there’s kind of a legit bill (Family Act of 2011, S 965/H.R. 3522) that would create a tax credit for the out-of-pocket costs associated with infertility medical treatment. This blog isn’t a venue for political grandstanding (because I can do that in real life!), but this seems relatively straightforward – an obvious means to support families struggling with infertility; a small way to try to level the playing field. Since we already provide tax deductions for whaling captains, clarinet players and common criminals, why not you and your uncooperative ovaries? I know, ugh politics, but if you’re interested, you can check out more about the act and how to get involved here.
If you’re totally not interested and have already stopped reading, please consider that while you were sleeping, Jessica Simpson got pregnant. Again. Following a record 21-month gestation with (in the land of terrible names, this one is…) Maxwell Drew, we could really be in for a wild ride. You’re welcome.
 I guess this post could be all “Happy New Year, good health, joy, peace and happiness to all and here are a list of my completely untenable resolutions plus some ridiculous, empty promise to eat less sugar and go to spinning classes,” and while yes, sure, let's go with all that, I also promised you all that I would be candid. So. Here is my single, solitary resolution for 2013: oh my god get pregnant already.
 Aside: At the beginning, C had to make his one crowning contribution to our infertility adventure and provide, ahem, a “sample” (a totally sketchy, early morning adventure in which nervous looking men in business attire drop off sealed brown paper bags of their own semen at a shrouded receptionist’s window where a sign actually reads “please step back to provide privacy.”). Would you like to know how much this self-indulgent pleasure set us back? TWO DOLLARS AND THIRTY-SEVEN CENTS. That’s right. While my regular wandings and blackout inducing blood draws drain our savings account, C pays less to ejaculate into a plastic cup than it costs for a Big Mac™. #genderparity?