Two Posts About Infertility
Two posts about infertility that I saved to read on the weekend, hence why I didn’t slip them into the Friday Roundup.
The first was on Slate and asks why we don’t have better workplace policies around fertility treatments when infertility is “as common as breast cancer and more common than Type 2 diabetes.” Why we have tons of debate about “whether employers have the right to limit women’s access to contraception through their health plans,” yet little debate about whether employers should cover treatments in the same health plan.
Moreover, as the article points out:
Since these treatments fall, in terms of official workplace policy, at the intersection between medical treatment, disability, and pregnancy, companies are often caught flat-footed, with many lacking precedent and clear policies—leaving managers and HR staffers to make their own judgments.
In other words, there is more of a chance that employers will get this wrong, but there’s little incentive to get it right because the burden falls on the employee. Career + pregnancy/parenthood is already a thorny issue; and this is the worst of all worlds: announcing a possible pregnancy before there is any pregnancy to announce. The article is a good look about all the issues surrounding infertility and the workplace.
The second was on Geekmom, and it’s why they decided to publicly speak about their miscarriage on social media. It wasn’t only to gather support or let other people know that they’re not alone. There’s a benefit to posting your difficult news on Facebook: “We could take our time to put our message together once and not have to rehash it out over and over again when we just didn’t have the energy to be that emotionally vulnerable in front of everyone yet.” It changed her relationships with people she already knew, drawing her closer to the ones who could support her through the aftermath.
The first article points out all the reasons you should play your infertility cards close to your chest. The second article points out all the reasons why you should place those cards on the table.
5 comments
I had seen the Slate article but not the second one on Geekmom.
Infertility is, indeed, sort of the worst of all worlds when it comes to pregnancy and work. I had my first IVF cycle about ten weeks after I started a new job (not, in retrospect, a good decision – for a multitude of reasons) and then miscarried. My bosses were lovely about the whole thing, but I was really lucky on that particular score – and one of my coworkers turned out to be a former fertility clinic RN, so that was nice also. I didn’t try to keep the fertility stuff a secret, which turned out to be a good thing in my case. Some of the side effects of the drugs would have been nearly impossible to hide – Lupron gave me serious hot flashes, for instance. I also got the call about my very low beta/ectopic in the middle of a busy shift (I had several people paged at the time for work-related stuff, so when I picked up the phone, I thought it was someone calling me back and was hit with this rather unpleasant surprise in front of several coworkers). But yeah, I basically announced that I was planning on a pregnancy a year before I got pregnant. Not so awesome.
But I did, like the second article, also put my first miscarriage out there on FB. And I’m glad I did – we got a lot of support, which I needed badly. I didn’t put my second miscarriage out there and definitely missed having that support.
I understand putting it out there once and being done. I chose not to share at all and that had the same effect – no need to rehash. I didn’t want to deal with other people and their worries, if that makes sense. Not telling meant I could avoid calls without guilt because everyone assumed I was working or eating or running and did not panic and worry that I was crying or needed support.
As for workplace policies, it’s tough. I had great insurance and it covered a lot of my treatment. But, regardless of policy, I wasn’t ready to share with my supervisor what I was going through, even as I occasionally missed work. I preferred to use sick time and stretch the truth. This was not because he wouldn’t have been understanding and helpful – I suspect he would have been amazing. But I had privacy concerns, and I just didn’t want to share everything with everyone.
I recently sat through a discussion about insurance where the majority in the room were questioning why covering fertility treatments was something they should be considering. Despite the number of people who use this coverage, not speaking up about it has normalized the culture around not talking about it and forcing people to fly under the radar at work. Those who have insurance and a way to make treatments happen without interfering with work are fairy privileged and should be aware that this can easily all go away (currently Massachusetts is the only state that has laws in place to give access to adequate coverage for fertility treatments, but even this requires hoop-jumping).
I understand people wanting to be private. I didn’t want people interfering when I was in the thick of treatments. But I also spent close to $50,000 out of pocket from fertility treatments and spent a ton of time on the phone with insurance when I was finally pregnant, fighting for medication to sustain my last pregnancy because the HMO viewed treatments as a vanity project. I also felt extremely isolated at work and my job performance was questioned solely because I wasn’t open about what I was dealing with (my supervisors were supportive… after the fact). So I get not wanting to talk about it, just like people haven’t wanted to talk about adoption or other medical diagnoses. But I also want to support those who DO want to talk about it, giving them a firm platform to do so while cheering them on. Because I don’t think they should be silenced solely because others aren’t comfortable sharing their stories. And I’ve seen so many people find their voice from me setting the example.
I had almost nil coverage (at one point 1500 in meds was covered, that’s it, and we spent over 100k oop. And i was and am a public employee with (compared to the average private company employee) excellent insurance.
I don’t think company by company is gonna cut it. It needs to be required at the state level. There are a few lucky states where coverage is mandated, but surprisingly not California.
I was totally private about it. Nothing worse than “announcing” you’re trying then getting a bfn or mc. My foolish husband actually told people at his work about the first (of 5) IVF, and they were all “have you picked names?” And of course it was bfn. That confirmed my instincts were right on.
The only times I told anyone while I was in the trying stage was 1) after my 2nd IVF, which ended in mc, because I had to have a D&C and miss work—my then boss was great but I didn’t share with anyone else at work and 2) 7 mo later, after a spontaneous bfp which ended in mc, i was at a newish job, and right after my 2nd D&C, my new boss who had been out the week before, stopped by my office to say hello and I burst into tears. So then I pretty much had to explain to her what was going on. But again, I didn’t tell anyone else thru the next IVFs etc. until I was 20 weeks (I have a long torso and didn’t show very early) with my first (actually I wasn’t forthcoming about IVF til later). When you’re over 40 and it’s certainly not a sure thing, why set yourself up for awkward convos?
Another thing I remember: at the first job where I did IVF, one of my employees (who had grown kids) and his much younger wife belonged to some kind of anti-population organization. And once when we were driving together (I was still trying naturally then) he talked about some person he knew who had spent 10K (ha ha) on IVF and wasn’t that insane? So I wasn’t gonna be sharing my plans with my staff.
The contradiction of infertility is perfectly outlined in your last paragraph. There are reasons to speak up, and reasons not to. We all deal with it differently. It is another reason why it is important for those of us post-infertility to talk about it, and normalise it. Hopefully one day people won’t have the same dilemmas in whether to talk or not.