Here is Your Baby...Would You Like That Receipt With You or in the Stroller?

Can you put a price tag on a human life?  Apparently you can...it's $20,000.

We met with the hospital financial counselor today.  She was much too perky to be throwing around numbers like that.  I guess she can afford to be...her kids were FREE.

John and I decided when we moved forward with IVF that we would not sweat the costs.  We made a pact that there would be a zero tolerance level on boo-hooing the astronomical price. We would simply feel grateful that such a blessing exists to let us achieve our dream of being parents.

And after this post, I will get right back to that pact.  In the meantime, I need one good night of wallowing. 

Twenty-thousand dollars.  When they put that sweet baby in my arms I will never again think of the cost. But tonight, with a horror filled month ahead, and uncertainty stretched before me, I have to dwell on it a little bit. 

Our lawnmower is older than we are and patched together with spit and duct tape.  Our dogs need a decent fenced yard where they can run and play.  We lost a handful more shingles off the roof in the last storm and it was hardly more than a light breeze.  John's car is, well, a pile 'o crap.

As I type this, I realize none of that means a good gosh darn.  I'm over it.  We have jobs in a time where many people cannot say the same.  We are better off financially than most.  We have extremely understanding bosses who say "family first" and support us as we stand on the precipice of the most important event of our lives.  We have family who are cheering us on and encouraging us at every step.  We have friends that care deeply for us and check in regularly to let us know we are in our thoughts.

I have parents who are cutting their Arizona adventure short so my mom can be here for me when I need her. (I remember the time you originally planned to return Momo...you can't fool me). :-)

There is a reason why infertility happened to us, and I suspect it will turn out to be a good one.  Truly, only God knows the reasons why and that will have to be good enough.  According to John, the reason is so every time our kid screws up or talks back he can shout, "This is what my twenty large got me?"

I'm not sure who is following me but I will continue updating and I hope you will continue reading.  I suspect the hilarity is close to ensuing, as I am already three days into the first round of meds.  John got his first taste of hormone-induced crazy tonight and I think he's a little shell shocked.  It isn't true that men get off scott-free in these situations...he has to put up with me, AND he still has to mow two acres with a broken down lawnmower with no hope of imminent replacement.  Hey, we all gotta make sacrifices.  It's like my wise hubby always says: "Deserves got nothing to do with it."

Ain't that the truth.