Trip to the pharmacy

Today I went to the pharmacy.

Before I was a mom, this would've been one of 50 tasks that I accomplished in a given day. Now, with a 17-month-old boy in tow, it's the only away-from-home task I accomplished today.

It involved a thirty minute wait; wrangling a toddler away from alluring, brightly-colored products lining the shelves; chasing said toddler into an off-limits area and then wiping away copious tears after he tripped over his own feet and hit his head on the leg of a chair.

There was a woman there with a boy a year or two older than mine and a baby in a car seat. I was a little dazed as I watched her and realized that will be me in less than a year's time. She managed remarkably well; I hope that I will do as well when I've got two out and about with me.

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm enthralled with the idea of having a large family (a sentiment popular among only children, I'd wager), but there are moments when I doubt my sanity. Today it wasn't the idea of trying to handle multiple kids on an outing as much as it was the bill that I paid when I got to the pharmacy register... for prenatal supplies.

I refuse to take the glucose tolerance test where you drink a bunch of syrupy goo and then they take your blood several times to determine if you have gestational diabetes. I already had gestational diabetes in pregnancy #1, failed terribly at the glucose tolerance test (read: became violently ill in the lab and grossed out the lab techs), and figure my family history and weight aren't any better since the first pregnancy so why don't we just assume I'll have gestational diabetes again? But provider asks me to spend a week monitoring my blood sugar levels at this point in the pregnancy because "gestational diabetes in early pregnancy can wreak havoc with the baby." (Just a thought-- wouldn't I have had diabetes in early pregnancy with my beautifully healthy little boy?) This is after I balk at taking the early glucose tolerance test (which means I would have to take it again later, anyway, if these results came back negative... no, thank you!) Since I am a compliant patient, I agree to use the glucometer I have at home to do as she requested. I asked for a prescription for more lancets and blood testing strips. 

Get to the pharmacy today and find out my insurance company will cover the lancets, but not the strips. Apparently, they dislike the meter I have at home and refuse to cover the supplies for it. (Lancets are covered because I guess it doesn't matter what device you use to gouge your fingertips with.) I asked how much I would have to pay out-of-pocket if I just decided to cover the cost myself. $100 for 50 strips! I almost let out a nice expletive at the pharmacy counter. If I had to monitor my blood sugar for the remainder of my pregnancy (which is likely, if diagnosed), that would be close to $1,000 just for test strips! 

Oh, the hoops of American healthcare. Tiring, discouraging, largely a waste of time.

Honestly, I'd be tempted to forego prenatal care altogether and just show up at the ER in labor and force them to suck it up and remember EMTALA, but I have a shaky family history and my first labor was induced because of preeclampsia, which was scary. And I am a strong believer in preventive care. But I find my soapbox eroding beneath me in the face of exorbitant prices. The Affordable Care Act has only made things worse for my family, so someone else please come up with a better idea before we go bankrupt. Or my husband really loses it and says we can't have any more kids. The Geiger Gaggle is at stake here, people.

Even though I do find myself discouraged, my dream for lots of kids always wins out. Can you put a price on a life? I think it's one of the most amazing things I can do-- grow a baby in my body, give birth, and most importantly, shape a life and soul. I figure if we're going to pay for something, might as well be as worthwhile as a human life. We can always get more money. Our window for having children isn't open for forever. So, hang the bills! Let's pop those babies out while we can. Right, honey? (Someone come help Joshua, he fainted when I told him how much 50 test strips would cost.)