Insurance companies can kiss my @#$

At long last, I’m going to give you a TTC treatment update. Sort of. I’m currently in the middle of five days of Provera, with the intention of bringing on a period as soon as possible. Dr. Hot wants me to go through this cycle, and then, when I get my next period, I can start on the Letrozole. Assuming I don’t get my period naturally and have to wait to take Provera, I figure my next treatment cycle will be in February. Of course, that all depends on how long it takes my uterus to figure out it should be bleeding. M is trying to plan some business trips in February, which is difficult, because I have absolutely no idea when I need him to be at home. And I really don’t want to miss our chance this first cycle! Depending on the day, I’m either really positive about my chances of getting pregnant in 1-3 cycles, or I’m absolutely convinced there’s no way we can be as lucky with Letrozole the second time as we were the first time, and I won’t even be able to ovulate.

We had a bit of a scare the other day. After I came home from work, I opened an envelope from the insurance company and discovered they weren’t paying for my delivery, D&C, hospital stay—basically everything that happened from Nov. 6-8—because I had a “disability not covered under my plan.” I was rather concerned. No, scratch that—I was hysterical. Forget saving money for a future IVF, I told M—instead, we were going to have to spend all our savings on delivering a dead baby. Between my sobs, M reminded me that my induction had been delayed because the peri’s office was checking on my insurance (after all, it’s as much in their interest as it is in mine that my insurance company pays for the delivery), but I was sure the bloodsucking insurance company had figured out a way not to pay my bill.

The next morning, M called the insurance company. Within one call, the issue was resolved: There had been a computer error, and we will receive a corrected statement within two weeks. How can they do that to people? If I had been 80, I may have had a heart attack and died! We were both incredibly relieved, and M reveled in the opportunity to say “I told you so.” My mother, whom I had called in the middle of all the mess, thinks I’m emotionally unstable and fatally pessimistic. Hmmm—you think?????

One thing I did take note of was the difference in my mood between my arrival home and my discovery of the insurance error. It was huge. I went from rather good to terrible in milliseconds. I didn’t really notice my rather good mood until it wasn’t there anymore. In other words…I’m doing OK. A bit of progress, no?

There are still many, many things that make me very sad (like seeing pictures of people’s cute kids in Christmas cards or trying on clothes that make me remember my bump), and going to bed at night is still a rather teary event, but in general, I’m able to go through life these days in a reasonably good mood. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I sang along to “My Favorite Things” on the radio at the top of my lungs on my drive home yesterday.

So the cliché appears to be true—it does get a little bit easier every day.

I’d like to reiterate that I’m very, very sorry I can’t be active on the blogs of those who were due around the same time I was (you know who you are). It’s just too painful to hear you talking about your active little fetuses and the process of picking out nursery decorations. That doesn’t mean, of course, that you shouldn’t talk about those things; I just need to shield myself, as much as possible, from thinking about the “what ifs” and the way things “should have been.”