I had two ectopic pregnancies, a first-trimester miscarriage, and a second-trimester loss. By my estimation, these four losses cost well over $10,000. Here are some of the expenses:
- OB-GYN and lab appointments—So. Many. Appointments. Since my first pregnancy was ectopic, my subsequent pregnancies involved lots of monitoring
- Salpingectomy (surgery to remove my fallopian tube due to my first ectopic pregnancy)
- Two hysterosalpingography (HSG) exams (to check that my remaining fallopian tube was clear)
- D&E (dilation and evacuation surgery with general anesthesia following the loss of my son in the second trimester)
- Methotrexate injection (to keep my second ectopic pregnancy from growing)
- Fertility specialist appointments (which came with their own exams and procedures)
- Prenatal vitamins (and many other supplements that I took in desperate hope they would help my pregnancies)
- Architecture plans to add on to our house. We did these when I was pregnant with my son, once we were in the second trimester and thought we were safe. The plans cost $5,000 alone, and we never used them; we never gained the courage to start a renovation, thinking it would jinx us. Then we moved
- Maternity clothes
- Baby clothes and supplies
Medical cost site Healthcare Bluebook estimates that, before insurance, a D&C (dilation and curettage, which surgically clears the uterine lining after a first trimester miscarriage) can range anywhere from $2,400 to upwards of $7,500. $7,500?! Who has $7,500 lying around? Even if you do, you don’t want to spend it on something that is already so painful.
Fortunately, my husband and I had insurance, and that did cover costs associated with our losses—kind of. We had high deductibles and large co-pays. Most distressing is that the bills trickled in for a year. Just for my salpingectomy, we got a bill from the hospital, a bill from the anesthesiologist, a bill for my follow-ups. It felt never-ending. Talk about adding insult to injury.
I was lucky in that we had savings to help with the costs. But the costs were still a big blow when we were already feeling terrible. What if you don’t have the money you need? What if you’re even more strapped because your loss requires you to take time off work and forego income? It’s all just…messed up. How can someone properly grieve when they are worried about paying for a roof over their head?
I wish healthcare in the United States was better—easier to access, with transparent cost and fewer hoops to jump through. I wish people didn’t have to worry about their bank account in the midst of mourning the loss of a baby. In a way, the costs associated with pregnancy loss are another kind of loss. The grief gets compounded. I found myself fixating on the lost money, probably because it was too hard to think about the lost babies. The Excel spreadsheet I kept to manage our budget was the ultimate example of misplaced anxiety.
If you are facing financial hardship due to costs related to pregnancy loss, you are not alone. I have found that most medical offices will arrange payment plans if you need them. Talk to your employer about disability leave. Or look into what your state offers. It’s a hassle, and you shouldn’t have to deal with hassle right now. There are so many things about pregnancy loss that are unfair. As Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler write in On Grief and Grieving, “When a loss hits us, we have not only the particular loss to mourn but also the shattered beliefs and assumptions of what life should be.” It shouldn’t be this way, and I’m so sorry that it is.
A couple great articles on this topic:
“I Learned the High Cost of Miscarriage Firsthand” (Romper.com)
“The Cost of a Miscarriage” (Slate.com)
This post was written by Kim Hooper, with content excerpted from All the Love: Healing Your Heart and Finding Meaning After Pregnancy Loss.
