Round 2——IVF Fund for Jennie & Stan
Donation protected
Hello, my name is Jennie. I’d like to address this to friends and family but understand that it will probably go beyond to friends of friends and so on. It’s uncomfortable to share this great personal struggle publicly. I’ve kept it close for a long time but I need help. I’ve done everything I can and have nowhere else to turn.
As most of my friends and family will know it has been mine and my husband Stanley’s deepest desire to have a child. Unfortunately, it’s also been our most challenging trial. I often wonder how something like bringing a baby into the world, something that’s so beautiful, innocent and pure could also bring so much heartache and pain.
The journey down the long isolating path started in May 2013 at a routine checkup. The doctor found something that raised a red flag and I was shuffled off to undergo a uterine ultrasound. The findings noted a uterine fibroid measuring 3.5 cm. My doctor didn’t really think anything of the fibroid at the time and brushed it off.
May 2015 I underwent another uterine ultrasound. I still remember the day, unlike a typical partly sunny spring day with fresh cut grass smells and blooming flowers, it was dark, gloomy and dreary it’s crazy how much you remember the world when you get bad news. The lump had grown to 4.5 cm! I was only 32 years old! How could I be having problems? What was wrong with me? Every woman has doubts, but this was something else, something dark. I tried to think positively, but deep down I knew there was something really wrong with what the doctor had quickly dismissed.
I finally went into my OBGYN in March 2016 when she broke the news, hearing it out loud was much worse than just having the fear bouncing around in my head. My gut feeling was right. The monster in my womb was now the size of an apple and both tubes were completely blocked. I was ashamed, I was terrified, I was disgusted with myself. Why didn’t I address my concerns earlier? After the results of my ultrasound my OB referred me to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) with the recommendation of having surgery to remove my fibroid.
After leaving my OB’s office in shock, I had to go home and hit the internet to find out what a RE even was. The more I researched the more the fear wormed its way into my heart. Online sources define a RE as one who specializes in the female reproductive tract. And there was that other thing, the part neither Stan nor I wanted to ever consider, in vitro fertilization, or more cutely shortened to IVF. I knew the next few months were going to be bad.
It was a hot summer, blue skies for weeks. In Washington that’s pretty much a miracle, but as nice as it was outside I couldn’t shake the cloud that had followed me from May of the year before. In July 2016, I underwent uterine myomectomy. There was a lot of crying before, maybe some during, and just a little bit afterwards. Had to save those tears you know, just in case. The doctor told me it would be a waiting game, “Give it time, rest, heal.” I wanted a baby and all the signs were saying that I failed. I feared I was failing as a wife, as a woman. After several follow up appointments and lot of love from everyone, I was ready to go into my first fertility treatment.
I took a test after our third IUI and guess what… it worked! The feeling of when your pregnancy test comes back positive is one I will never forget. People tell you to rest, drink a lot of water, and don’t stress. How can you not? This is supposed to be an exciting time right? Well, I will also never forget the amount of pain that I had to deal with in August.
The abdominal pain was back and I wished and wished but it didn’t go away. I finally had the guts to call my nurse and ask if I could come in. I was prepared for another ultrasound. It was an old hat by now but this was different, way different. Now I had a miracle inside, another life cradled within me with a line connected directly to my heart and soul. The nurse and doctor at the clinic knew right away. I was internally bleeding. Worse, I was bleeding from an Ectopic Pregnancy. That’s when the cloud broke overhead. I could almost hear the crack of thunder. I was lost in the words. All the fear, shame and guilt were back. Now I was failing the precious gift I’d been given.
My Reproductive Endocrinologist and his staff informed me I would have to have emergency surgery and that my tube would be removed. Everything happened so fast. I figured since I went thru a similar surgery earlier in the year this one wouldn’t affect me. I was a soldier at this point. You get used to disappointment. It’s like a long hunger. You can set it aside, look at the hurt, acknowledge its existence and move on. But not this time, not anymore.
So, there it is. It’s ugly. It’s years of our life. It’s the future of my marriage. It’s the ability to look at myself in the mirror. The truth wasn’t a game changer. For me it was an end. A big cliff to fall off of and hope my heart gives out before I hit the bottom. It was a truth that comes out in mumbles and awkwardness. It’s a truth I didn’t even want my Stanley to know. I could not have a child. Not by normal means.
I hope someone out there understands how much that simple truth hurts. How it stains the future and the present. My only option now is IVF. Stan was by my side and despite our growing horror at the mountains of debt, we decided we needed to try. We weren’t going to give up.
Sadly, everything comes down to money. The procedure itself cost $13,650. Medication will range from $2,000 to $6,000 a pop; then there’s more medication required for the process should the miracle happen again. More medication to the tune of $5,400 this time.
I don’t want to go into politics or anything that’ll get mixed up with the ugliness of current events. I’ll just say that healthcare has never been cheap. I’m pretty sure things will get worse before they get better. To give you a perspective on the problem, I work overtime, a lot of overtime, all my employer will give me. Working weekends and days off, extra hours during the week, anything. Stan does too. We’ve been at it for a while, but as much progress as we make that other shore just seems to get farther and farther.
The state we live in does not mandate coverage for IVF.
The Affordable Care Act doesn’t require coverage for infertility treatments.
And of course, our health insurance does not cover any fertility treatments.
So there it is, my secret laid bare; and though I’m mortified that you now know, I genuinely thank you for taking the time to read my and Stanley’s truth. If you know my pain, my heart goes out to you. If you’ve got some love to share, say a little prayer for us. And if you are able to help, in any way, we thank you for that too.
Mahalo – Jennie and Stan
* According to The National Infertility Association 1 in 8 couples have trouble getting pregnant or sustaining a pregnancy. 7.4 million women, or 11.9% of women, have ever received any infertility services in their lifetime. (2006 to 2010 National Survey of Family Growth, CDC). Fifteen states have either an insurance mandate to offer or an insurance mandating to cover some level of infertility treatment. Eight of those states have an insurance mandate that requires qualified employers to include IVF coverage in their plans offered to their employees.
As most of my friends and family will know it has been mine and my husband Stanley’s deepest desire to have a child. Unfortunately, it’s also been our most challenging trial. I often wonder how something like bringing a baby into the world, something that’s so beautiful, innocent and pure could also bring so much heartache and pain.
The journey down the long isolating path started in May 2013 at a routine checkup. The doctor found something that raised a red flag and I was shuffled off to undergo a uterine ultrasound. The findings noted a uterine fibroid measuring 3.5 cm. My doctor didn’t really think anything of the fibroid at the time and brushed it off.
May 2015 I underwent another uterine ultrasound. I still remember the day, unlike a typical partly sunny spring day with fresh cut grass smells and blooming flowers, it was dark, gloomy and dreary it’s crazy how much you remember the world when you get bad news. The lump had grown to 4.5 cm! I was only 32 years old! How could I be having problems? What was wrong with me? Every woman has doubts, but this was something else, something dark. I tried to think positively, but deep down I knew there was something really wrong with what the doctor had quickly dismissed.
I finally went into my OBGYN in March 2016 when she broke the news, hearing it out loud was much worse than just having the fear bouncing around in my head. My gut feeling was right. The monster in my womb was now the size of an apple and both tubes were completely blocked. I was ashamed, I was terrified, I was disgusted with myself. Why didn’t I address my concerns earlier? After the results of my ultrasound my OB referred me to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) with the recommendation of having surgery to remove my fibroid.
After leaving my OB’s office in shock, I had to go home and hit the internet to find out what a RE even was. The more I researched the more the fear wormed its way into my heart. Online sources define a RE as one who specializes in the female reproductive tract. And there was that other thing, the part neither Stan nor I wanted to ever consider, in vitro fertilization, or more cutely shortened to IVF. I knew the next few months were going to be bad.
It was a hot summer, blue skies for weeks. In Washington that’s pretty much a miracle, but as nice as it was outside I couldn’t shake the cloud that had followed me from May of the year before. In July 2016, I underwent uterine myomectomy. There was a lot of crying before, maybe some during, and just a little bit afterwards. Had to save those tears you know, just in case. The doctor told me it would be a waiting game, “Give it time, rest, heal.” I wanted a baby and all the signs were saying that I failed. I feared I was failing as a wife, as a woman. After several follow up appointments and lot of love from everyone, I was ready to go into my first fertility treatment.
I took a test after our third IUI and guess what… it worked! The feeling of when your pregnancy test comes back positive is one I will never forget. People tell you to rest, drink a lot of water, and don’t stress. How can you not? This is supposed to be an exciting time right? Well, I will also never forget the amount of pain that I had to deal with in August.
The abdominal pain was back and I wished and wished but it didn’t go away. I finally had the guts to call my nurse and ask if I could come in. I was prepared for another ultrasound. It was an old hat by now but this was different, way different. Now I had a miracle inside, another life cradled within me with a line connected directly to my heart and soul. The nurse and doctor at the clinic knew right away. I was internally bleeding. Worse, I was bleeding from an Ectopic Pregnancy. That’s when the cloud broke overhead. I could almost hear the crack of thunder. I was lost in the words. All the fear, shame and guilt were back. Now I was failing the precious gift I’d been given.
My Reproductive Endocrinologist and his staff informed me I would have to have emergency surgery and that my tube would be removed. Everything happened so fast. I figured since I went thru a similar surgery earlier in the year this one wouldn’t affect me. I was a soldier at this point. You get used to disappointment. It’s like a long hunger. You can set it aside, look at the hurt, acknowledge its existence and move on. But not this time, not anymore.
So, there it is. It’s ugly. It’s years of our life. It’s the future of my marriage. It’s the ability to look at myself in the mirror. The truth wasn’t a game changer. For me it was an end. A big cliff to fall off of and hope my heart gives out before I hit the bottom. It was a truth that comes out in mumbles and awkwardness. It’s a truth I didn’t even want my Stanley to know. I could not have a child. Not by normal means.
I hope someone out there understands how much that simple truth hurts. How it stains the future and the present. My only option now is IVF. Stan was by my side and despite our growing horror at the mountains of debt, we decided we needed to try. We weren’t going to give up.
Sadly, everything comes down to money. The procedure itself cost $13,650. Medication will range from $2,000 to $6,000 a pop; then there’s more medication required for the process should the miracle happen again. More medication to the tune of $5,400 this time.
I don’t want to go into politics or anything that’ll get mixed up with the ugliness of current events. I’ll just say that healthcare has never been cheap. I’m pretty sure things will get worse before they get better. To give you a perspective on the problem, I work overtime, a lot of overtime, all my employer will give me. Working weekends and days off, extra hours during the week, anything. Stan does too. We’ve been at it for a while, but as much progress as we make that other shore just seems to get farther and farther.
The state we live in does not mandate coverage for IVF.
The Affordable Care Act doesn’t require coverage for infertility treatments.
And of course, our health insurance does not cover any fertility treatments.
So there it is, my secret laid bare; and though I’m mortified that you now know, I genuinely thank you for taking the time to read my and Stanley’s truth. If you know my pain, my heart goes out to you. If you’ve got some love to share, say a little prayer for us. And if you are able to help, in any way, we thank you for that too.
Mahalo – Jennie and Stan
* According to The National Infertility Association 1 in 8 couples have trouble getting pregnant or sustaining a pregnancy. 7.4 million women, or 11.9% of women, have ever received any infertility services in their lifetime. (2006 to 2010 National Survey of Family Growth, CDC). Fifteen states have either an insurance mandate to offer or an insurance mandating to cover some level of infertility treatment. Eight of those states have an insurance mandate that requires qualified employers to include IVF coverage in their plans offered to their employees.
Organizer
Jennie Jen
Organizer
Seattle, WA
