I had pulled out of the driveway a minute too soon, as the mail dude was just making his way to our box and the teenager in the car begged me to turn around. I did. Her anticipated package was not there, but our anticipated doctor bill was. We were waiting on this to get a full accounting for Emmy's birth. I was expecting this and the amount was exactly right, and honestly I should have stopped there. There was no reason for me to go though the charges individually. She's here, she's been born and everything's good.
My eyes almost fell out of my head when I read one of the little insurance code thingees with a description "Insufficient Prenatal Care."
EXCUSE ME??? Oh, no. Back the eff up. I was beyond pissed. Thankfully, Vulcan logic set in quick and I told myself, okay, no biggie. It's just an insurance thing. I am sure they had to have something in there to explain why they were just seeing me a day before my daughter was born. My anger was not and is not at the doctor or his staff. And it's not really at the insurance company either, it's just at EVERYTHING. I mean just the whole concept of the society we live in thinking that this kind of shiz is acceptable. Insufficient prenatal care, my arse.
When it was all said and done, my midwife prenatal care cost our family a little over three thousand dollars. Out of pocket. No reimbursement. Nada. While I will admit my midwife was a flakey, jabbermouth, gossipy backstabber, she was still quite sufficient for my care. She spent well over an hour in my home once per month. She did the same tests, the same fetal tone checks, and was way more concerned with my nutrition and exercise than any doctor had ever been. Long story short, there was nothing insufficient about it. My baby, and my body were well taken care of.
Why does that not translate when you transfer to a doctor? That would be because only a doctor has the special skills to take care of a Momma and her unborn baby right? Really?
I am having very strong, very negative, very pissed off feelings about this and can't quite wrap my mind around what I really truly want to say about this. I am offended in the third degree that there is a papee out there, with MY name on it, that aligns ME with not having cared for my unborn child to the best of my ability when my course of action, every last decision I make or ever will make, is focused on all my children, born and unborn's quality and quantity of life.
Who knew three little words could set a person off so fully and completely.
I got a couple of my own, but much too much a lady to write them here. But I'll give you a hint.
Two words, two syllables. Rhymes with Duck Poo.