Trump’s Executive Order on IVF: A Glimmer of Hope amidst Uncertainty
Since embarking on her IVF journey in 2019, Courtney Deady has incurred over $100,000 in expenses. The endless medications, procedures, doctor’s appointments, and travel costs have not only depleted her finances but also weighed heavily on her relationships and mental well-being.
"It can put you in a very, very dark place," said Deady, a 34-year-old from Sidney, Ohio. "There are days where I thought I wasn’t going to make it."
In October, amidst the Fox News town hall, Deady’s spirits soared as President Trump proclaimed himself the "father of IVF" and pledged federal support for IVF treatment and mandated insurance coverage for the procedure. This promise played a significant role in her decision to vote for Trump in the November elections.
On Tuesday, Trump signed an executive order from his Mar-a-Lago estate in West Palm Beach, Florida, outlining policy recommendations to safeguard IVF access and reduce out-of-pocket costs for families seeking treatment. "PROMISES MADE. PROMISES KEPT, " wrote White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt on Twitter, announcing the executive order.
Deady hails the president’s executive order as a "huge win" for the estimated 1 in 6 families grappling with infertility. "That makes me super excited. It means he held true to his campaign promise," she said. However, as a patient advocate, Deady recognizes the limitations of executive orders and the arduous path ahead to ensure reduced costs and expanded access for families.
Ashely Owings, another IVF recipient, also cast her vote for Trump in November. A resident of North Chicago, Illinois, Owings embarked on her IVF journey in 2013 and is now the mother of a 3-year-old son named Henry. She acknowledges the challenges Trump will likely encounter in securing insurance coverage for IVF. Nevertheless, she remains optimistic.
"For the President to see us, to acknowledge and to remind us that we don’t have to do this alone is special," Owings said. "Any help will be a blessing in the IVF and infertility world."
The urgency of this issue has been amplified by recent efforts in conservative states to pass "fetal personhood" laws, which confer legal rights upon fetuses or embryos. Although primarily aimed at restricting abortion, the language employed in these laws could have far-reaching implications, posing a threat to IVF patients and providers, according to Barbara Collura, president and CEO of RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association.
"It opens up so many questions and so many concerns about the practice of IVF in a laboratory and what can people do with their embryos," she said.
In February 2023, the Alabama Supreme Court ruled that frozen embryos created for IVF are considered "unborn children." State lawmakers swiftly enacted legislation providing civil and criminal immunity to fertility clinics and doctors for "the death or damage to an embryo" during the IVF process. However, this protection is limited to Alabama alone. Other states with fetal personhood laws do not explicitly safeguard IVF.
At least 24 states incorporate personhood language in laws regulating abortion care, according to Pregnancy Justice, a non-profit organization dedicated to protecting pregnant people from criminalization.
In Ohio, criminal law defines "unborn human" as an individual organism of the species Homo sapiens from fertilization until live birth." While the terms "unborn child" and "unborn human" are typically used in the context of abortion and pregnancy, Deady believes an official declaration of protection would provide her with a sense of comfort.
Having endured numerous failed transfers, Deady has only one remaining embryo in storage. She remains uncertain when or if she will undergo another transfer, the process of implanting an embryo into the uterus to establish pregnancy.
As she contemplates her options, Deady finds solace in volunteering for organizations that advocate for IVF patients, military families, and suicide prevention. She also runs a photography business and substitutes as a teacher for a second-grade class.
While her own journey may be nearing its end, Deady finds purpose in advocating for the well-being of others, especially her young students. "I can’t have one in my arms, yet, but I do have children who count on me," she said. "To know that I’m fighting for them without them knowing… It’s my sense of purpose."
Contributors: Jessica Guynn and Bailey Schulz, USA TODAY.
Contact: Adrianna Rodriguez, [email protected]
