Choosing Between My Career and a Chance at a Family

By Emily Waldron

When my husband, Jason, and I started the in vitro fertilization (IVF) process, I thought I was prepared. I’d earned a master’s in public health (MPH), with an emphasis in maternal and child health, so I knew the infertility statistics. Infertility impacts one in eight couples, not to mention members of the LGBTQ+ community. I also knew that fertility treatments had become more effective over the years. What I didn’t know, and would come to learn, was that the IVF process takes an incredible amount of time – time I might’ve otherwise spent working a job. This is the story of my infertility journey so far. It’s one of privilege, a broken system, and hope for the future.

After a year and a half of trying to get pregnant and two failed intrauterine inseminations (IUIs), Jason and I knew the workplace and workplace policies weren’t supportive of our goal. My job, while flexible, was centered on the COVID-19 response in southern Arizona. Like so many of my public health colleagues, I was stretched to the maximum, and my stress levels were high. None of that is helpful when you’re trying to get pregnant.

Looking at the long IVF process ahead, I made the difficult decision to quit my job and step away from public health for a bit. When I quit my job in August, I thought I’d be out for two months before starting a consulting business. So many people told me to take more time. In October, I realized they were right. Two months wasn’t enough.

Jason and I want to have the best chance of success, and we’re ready to give it our best shot (no pun intended!). Through this process, I strive to stay grounded and thankful for my own privilege: I have a loving partner and the financial security to take this time off. I have doctor appointments almost every day, which require a 30-minute drive each way for an hour appointment. This eats up at least two hours of my day. I have no idea how people who are working do this.

Jason patiently prepares my shots every morning and night. The shots make me really nervous. I accidentally spilled a dose because my hands were shaking the first time I tried to administer it — $250 down the drain. So Jason has kindly taken over. He’s been my rock.

We’re grateful we could make decisions to support our IVF process and not have to worry about making ends meet, but what about others who aren’t as fortunate? What about folks who give themselves their shots on their quick 10- or 15-minute break, in a bathroom, while working? What about folks who don’t have a fridge to store their medicine, especially those who work at different sites each day? What about folks who are hauling around a cooler and replacing ice packs to keep their medicine cold?

This process has confirmed some of what I already knew: the paid family leave policies in this country are so woefully inadequate and basically nonexistent, and that includes support for the process of trying to get pregnant. I was prepared for the cost – though, I still have sticker shock – but what I wasn’t prepared for is the time IVF takes.

I have no idea how people who don’t have generous leave policies at work do IVF. My experience has reignited my passion and commitment to the reasons why I pursued an MPH in the first place: to advocate for strong structural public health policies in the workplace, including -generous paid family leave, paid sick time, mental health days, and flexible schedules.

No matter the outcome of this experience, this process has profoundly reminded me of my own privilege and my commitment to health equity. Paid family leave is critical. If I hadn’t quit my job, I might not have decided to move forward with my lifelong dream to start a family. I knew I couldn’t be productive at work and juggle 4+ fertility appointments a week. I’m so grateful for this time off to focus on building our future family.

I want others to have the same chance, and that means we need a national paid family leave policy. All families should have access to paid family leave, so future parents don’t have to choose between a family or a career.