The Cost of (in)Fertility

Hello from Minnesota!. Dae-Han and I have touched down in my hometown for a brief but wonderful 4 days at the OG BaciAbode.

Before I get into all things Operation Build-a-Baby, a moment to acknowledge the floury fun we had yesterday making homemade pasta sauce and ravioli:

Dae-Han has now been officially initiated into his newly acquired Italian(ish) family. ♡

In two days, we fly to California. I am looking forward to a Christmas with kimchi and Vitamin-D and my new Korean American family.

We have traveled 14,000 miles (roundtrip) and spent $2,949.28 (two tickets) to spend Christmas with family. It was worth every sleepless hour on the plane and every moment gripping Dae-Han’s arm through rough turbulence.

Right about now, Cake’s “The Distance” is starting to play in my head. Why?

Simply for one line:

“He’s going the distance.”

Dae-Han and I are not just going the distance for family, we’re also going the distance for Baby BaciSong. Unlike Cake, I don’t think we’re going for speed anymore.

When we started the IFV process this fall, I knew it was unlikely that we were running a sprint, but my ever-present optimist was hopeful. After a second egg retrieval that yielded three eggs, two that became three-day old embryos that decided this world was not for them, I am trying to figure out how to pace myself when I am not privy to the distance of this race. And for that reason, perhaps this is the perfect training for parenthood, when you have to dig down and find the stamina for days after sleepless nights, projectile vomiting (props to my mom for dealing with mine), and many dirty diapers.

When I came out of anaesthesia on the most recent egg retrieval venture, the first thing I did (again) was warn the nurses that I was not yet asleep so please do not yet start the procedure. With soft classical music playing around me, they warmly told me that the procedure was indeed done.

As I lied on the cot recovering, not yet knowing how many eggs the doctor had retrieved, I imagined looking over five (this was what I hod hoped would be ready to hatch) one by one, asking “Are you my baby?” “Are you my baby?” “Are you my baby?”

When 10 days later we found out that indeed none of those eggs were to become our baby, I imagined hearing a soothing voice say, “It’s not time yet. Take more time to enjoy just being with my dad for now.”

So, we’re doing that, little Baby BaciSong Bean. We’re staying up late, and sleeping in (or at least I am). We’re being here, ready for you, when you are ready for us.

Tit’s Up! has become the collective motto in our house. Listen, somedays, this shit is pretty hard. Amidst shooting my body up with hormones and receiving undesirable news from the doctor, I can project my angry sense of helplessness onto Dae-Han, just some of the emotional cost of infertility.

I see now firsthand in my marriage the way that our partners can be both recipients of our love and tenderness and our fire and fury. I am grateful that with Dae-Han and I moments of fertility disappointments do not outweigh the understanding that we are Team BaciSong, in this together. So, we’re working to keep our heads high and Tits Up!

The doctor has suggested that we take two months off of stim shots. This works out well as we were traveling this month for the holidays, and in January, I will be meeting my Soul Sister Ceci in Hong Kong to celebrate my birthday.

When we bought our tickets to celebrate Christmas in the States, originally we had planned to fertilize the six eggs that I had frozen before moving to Seoul. While there was more than one factor in our decision not to do so this year, one of those factors was financial. Both of our parents have told us that they would help us with this cost, and the support they have offered would allow us to move forward with Stateside IVF, but I am not yet in place where I want to (or feel I have to) work with the American healthcare system’s costs.

I have little idea how healthcare is figured out in different countries, or why things cost what they do in different places, but let me lay out the finances of IVF in both the United States and Korea:

• Retrieving and freezing my six eggs 2.5 years ago cost $15,000. If we moved forward with fertilization, it would be an additional $6,747, for a total of $21,747.

• I kept careful record of our bills this past retrieval. The total cost of retrieval and fertilization was $4,917.45.

• So, the difference between one egg retrieval and fertilization in the US versus Korea: $16,829.55.

It is baffling to me. My hospital in Korea is state-of-the-art. I get personal care from doctors and nurses. So, how is it that Korea can keep costs so much lower than the States? Maybe it is a rabbit hole for another day. Maybe not. It just makes me angry that those living in the States could break their banks or be unable to use IVF because the cost is so exorbitant.

Because my sweet husband often gives enough f*cks for the both of us, I will abstain from getting on a higher soapbox and choose this moment to start my sign-off.

Regardless of where one lives, the cost of infertility can certainly be high when you consider the emotional and financial toll it can take. Dae-Han and I are blessed. We have access to great care, we have wonderful support systems both inside and outside of our partnership, and we continue to be hopeful realists in this journey.

This post has taken me from Mom and Dad’s kitchen to an airplane en route to California. Goodbye for now, from a mile high. ♡