I've been listening to a podcast called Death, Sex, and Money a lot lately. It started in 2014 and I only found out about it a month ago, so I have what feels like an endless supply of episodes to listen to. I'm in love with Anna Sale, so much so that I listened to an episode another podcast on which she was a guest, fell in love with that podcast, discovered Ariel Levy, fell in love with her, then listened to the episode with Maggie Haberman who is now my most favourite person of all time. Podcasts and powerful women, you guys. I'm living my best life.
ANYWAY I digress. The premise of Death, Sex, and Money is that despite becoming steadily more open and upfront with each generation, those three remain serious taboos. And much as I like to think I'm above that, it turns out I'm not. I keep making references to how much this whole process is costing, and once I linked to a website with some prices on it. The thought of talking about it more openly than that makes me feel a little squeamish, and so far I have avoided the subject. Today I'm going to channel my inner Anna Sale and just tell you about the costs involved and what they mean for our little family in particular.
To date, we have spent exactly $6,600, and nobody is pregnant.
Half of that cost is our first two IUI treatments, which set us back $1,630 each try. The other half is a slow build-up of costs over time: appointments with our specialist, our counsellor, getting our AMH results, screening our donor, counselling for our donor, storing the sperm. It doesn't include visits to our GP, or the time off needed for appointments, blood tests, and the actual insemination procedures. It also doesn't include pre-natal vitamins, or the stress-eating that has ensued. It doesn't cover the transport costs involved in dragging to people from work to the clinic and back, or the lost productivity of endless mornings waiting for test results. Pretty much all it buys us is a slightly-better-than-straight couple's odds of getting pregnant. But, you know, we'll take it.
Starting next cycle, things get more expensive. Our next two cycles will be medicated IUI, which cost the $1,630 + what my "Pathway to a Child" book exceptionally helpfully tells me will be "$0-$500" worth of medication. From there, things go to financial shit incredibly quickly: we'll be moving on to IVF which costs $8,195 for the actual procedure + $2,500-$4,500 in medication. Each time.
So what does this mean for us? Primarily, it means that we will not be home owners, certainly not before our children are born and maybe ever. It completely erodes our ability to obtain stable housing for our family. While our current treatments aren't killing us financially yet, if in a couple of months we find ourselves staring down IVF, we will only have enough saved to pay for two rounds. After that, we're fresh outta cash. Throughout that time we'll have ongoing costs for sperm storage, which is 'only' $130 per six months so should be able to come out of the grocery budget rather than our savings.
It means that we're both locked into our jobs, and therefore into Auckland. We both earn above the average wage in New Zealand, which makes us a rarity. We thought about moving out of Auckland to raise our little family, but that would mean a drastic pay-cut and render our family impossible, especially as our higher income earner is looking at the first round of maternity leave. So here we stay: far away from family, with unaffordable housing and hour-long commutes.
This is starting to sound complainy, but it isn't. This is a choice that we've made, and one we are completely sure about. We want to be parents far more than we want to be home-owners or kindergarten teachers. We've looked at the financial and practical sacrifices and determined them worthwhile. If anything, this is a warning to our lady-lady brethren who are considering parenthood one day: start saving now, because it's going to be hella expensive.
ANYWAY I digress. The premise of Death, Sex, and Money is that despite becoming steadily more open and upfront with each generation, those three remain serious taboos. And much as I like to think I'm above that, it turns out I'm not. I keep making references to how much this whole process is costing, and once I linked to a website with some prices on it. The thought of talking about it more openly than that makes me feel a little squeamish, and so far I have avoided the subject. Today I'm going to channel my inner Anna Sale and just tell you about the costs involved and what they mean for our little family in particular.
To date, we have spent exactly $6,600, and nobody is pregnant.
Half of that cost is our first two IUI treatments, which set us back $1,630 each try. The other half is a slow build-up of costs over time: appointments with our specialist, our counsellor, getting our AMH results, screening our donor, counselling for our donor, storing the sperm. It doesn't include visits to our GP, or the time off needed for appointments, blood tests, and the actual insemination procedures. It also doesn't include pre-natal vitamins, or the stress-eating that has ensued. It doesn't cover the transport costs involved in dragging to people from work to the clinic and back, or the lost productivity of endless mornings waiting for test results. Pretty much all it buys us is a slightly-better-than-straight couple's odds of getting pregnant. But, you know, we'll take it.
Starting next cycle, things get more expensive. Our next two cycles will be medicated IUI, which cost the $1,630 + what my "Pathway to a Child" book exceptionally helpfully tells me will be "$0-$500" worth of medication. From there, things go to financial shit incredibly quickly: we'll be moving on to IVF which costs $8,195 for the actual procedure + $2,500-$4,500 in medication. Each time.
So what does this mean for us? Primarily, it means that we will not be home owners, certainly not before our children are born and maybe ever. It completely erodes our ability to obtain stable housing for our family. While our current treatments aren't killing us financially yet, if in a couple of months we find ourselves staring down IVF, we will only have enough saved to pay for two rounds. After that, we're fresh outta cash. Throughout that time we'll have ongoing costs for sperm storage, which is 'only' $130 per six months so should be able to come out of the grocery budget rather than our savings.
It means that we're both locked into our jobs, and therefore into Auckland. We both earn above the average wage in New Zealand, which makes us a rarity. We thought about moving out of Auckland to raise our little family, but that would mean a drastic pay-cut and render our family impossible, especially as our higher income earner is looking at the first round of maternity leave. So here we stay: far away from family, with unaffordable housing and hour-long commutes.
This is starting to sound complainy, but it isn't. This is a choice that we've made, and one we are completely sure about. We want to be parents far more than we want to be home-owners or kindergarten teachers. We've looked at the financial and practical sacrifices and determined them worthwhile. If anything, this is a warning to our lady-lady brethren who are considering parenthood one day: start saving now, because it's going to be hella expensive.
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