My piggy is broke

Seeing as March is knocking at our door, I started the insane task of taxes. I don't know how I received this great honor in our household, but here I am. Once again faced with a looming deadline and the constant nagging that I did something wrong and good ol' uncle sam is going to beat down my door.

This year, we get to include expenses from fertility treatments because they FAR AND AWAY exceeded the 7.5% of our adjusted income. After figuring in treatments, co-pays, meds, parking, mileage, acupuncture, massage, blah blah blah...the grand total is *insert drumroll*...over $35K. That's right. Out of pocket. And that's just one year.

Don't get me wrong...you can't put a pricetag on a child - I will be the first one to wave that flag and stand behind it like a mac truck. But, come on, we need mandatory fertility coverage! This is just insane. Insurance will cover the treatment cost for drug or alcohol abuse (which starts as an individual, totally conscious decision), but it won't cover treatment for a woman who has a disorder preventing her from having babies that she never asked for or did anything to cause. (I know this isn't a great analogy, but its all I can come up with right now). It really doesn't make sense.

I get a little heated when I think of the billions of tax payers dollars (including mine!) it takes to support people who have made bad decision after bad decision regarding their lives as well as the lives of their children (welfare, foster care, medicare), and most IFers can't even get a prescription for a fertility drug paid for.

Sorry for the vent. I knew this day would come - the day I had to face the piper and the bill that comes along with him. For the last couple of years I was able to just hand over the plastic with a poop-eating grin and pretend that I had cash to pay it off. But reality has hit me like a ugly brick. I don't regret it for a moment, but dang, our system is more screwy than a lightbulb.