Comments (14)

By shannon, March 22, 2010 1:16 pm

You all know what’s been going on in our quest to have a child.  Today, I want to give up.  Seriously, I do.

I was told, when I met with the fertility doctor, to have a consultation with a high-risk OB.  I called my regular OB/GYN (Dr. H.) to see who she worked with.  After a lot of run-around, I found the high-risk practice at the same hospital as Dr. H.  Today, I had my consultation.

When I arrived at the office, the front desk person was rude.  Not just a little unfriendly – she was rude.  Not a good start – it immediately put me on edge.  But, I filled out the paperwork, as required.  The receptionist became even ruder (if that’s possible) when she asked me for Brian’s SSN.  I asked her why she needed it (I’m not giving out any SSNs unless there is a damn good reason).  She said that she wanted it for our insurance information.  I explained that the Member ID number is sufficient (truthfully, I probably wouldn’t have been such a hard ass about it if she’s just asked nicely).  Then, she told me that my copay was $30, payable by cash or check only.  This was not something anyone told me, and I only had credit cards (I don’t carry a checkbook around).  When I said that I only had plastic and that I wasn’t aware of the policy, she didn’t say anything.  NOTHING.  She didn’t even look at me.  Oookay.  I took a seat and waited for my turn.

After a while,  I was called to the back where I had the usual vitals done (BP, weight, urine, etc.).  Then, I was led to a small conference room where the nurse asked me the same questions that I’d just answered on the new patient paperwork (medical conditions, meds, allergies, etc.).  I dutifully answered her questions, and when she’d gotten it all, she told me the doctor would be right in.

A few moments later, the nurse returned and asked me who referred me.  When I explained that I wasn’t referred (I’m not pregnant, yet), I was told to get the consult by the fertility group, she said that I should have had records sent over before the appointment.  Getting more upset, I explained that (just as with the copay) no one had told me that I needed to have my records sent over.  She said that the doctor needs the records before she could talk with me.  WTF?  If I’d known that they needed these records for a consult, I would have made sure they had them.  But, no one told me.

The nurse left the room, but I wasn’t alone for long.  The office manager (I think) came into the room next.  She had a release form, which she needed me to fill out.  When I asked her who she was sending it to (one of the fields in the form), she asked me who has my records.  I explained that I have several doctors and, depending on what she needs, the information would come from different sources.  She said that she needs my “medical records.”  That’s it; no further clarification.  She was being pretty rude, too.  My guess was that the receptionist made some sort of comment about me, which led to a judgment on her part. 

That’s when I lost it.  Completely.  I asked her to stop speaking to me as if I were a four-year-old.  I told her that if one, single person had told me that I needed to have medical records sent over, I would have done so.  I told her that I was upset about the fact that without those records, the doctor felt it was pointless to meet with me.  Here I was, a living, breathing person with the ability to recall facts like my last A1c, BP readings, and other pertinent information.  But, without medical records, there was no point? 

Then I started to cry. 

If there is one thing I wish I could change about myself (well, there are tons, but this is a biggie), it would be my tendency to cry when I get angry.  I don’t really cry when I’m sad, but piss me off, and I become a blubbering fool.  This, of course, pisses me off even more because the last thing I want is any kind of sympathy from the person who made me angry in the first place. 

But, before I knew it, the doctor decided to grace me with her presence.  She came into the room, clipboard in hand, and asked me questions.  And miracle of miracles, I was able to give her the information she needed.  But, that’s where the good times ended.

As she went over each of my conditions, diabetes being the biggest obstacle, I began to feel less and less like a potential pregnant woman.  I felt like a complete and utter failure.  Straight off, she didn’t believe that I was a Type 1.  She asked if I had ever been tested for antibodies (yes) and was it positive or negative (positive, duh?).  She told me that what my endo told me about pregnancy BGs isn’t good enough.  She would want my fasting BGs between 60 and 80mg/dl, one hour post-prandials at less than 140mg/dl, and two-hour post prandial at less than 130mg/dl.  This seemed excessive to me and not at all what I’d learned from other pregnant T1s in the DOC.  There’s no way I could achieve that without having severe lows all the time.  She countered with (speaking as if trying to talk me down from a ledge), “we have pregnant diabetics with A1cs of 5% all the time.”  I wanted to say that maybe with T2s or gestational patients this is achievable, but with a T1, it’s just dangerous.  There was so much I wanted to say.  Instead, I cried.

I think the moment when I decided that I didn’t want to go through any of this anymore was when she told me about all of the potential birth defects and complications that can occur as a result of my diabetes, high BP, and “advanced maternal age.”   Why am I putting myself through this?  With every doctor’s appointment, all I feel is guilt, anger, self-loathing, and despair.  I am not enjoying anything about this process, and if this is what I have to look forward to, I’m not very optimistic.

When I think about Elizabeth’s good news, I’m very motivated to pursue adoption instead of putting myself through this again.

Comments (15)

By shannon, February 3, 2010 2:20 pm

In an attempt to come to terms with our situation and to be proactive in finding an alternative, I began researching adoption. 

Adoption scares the hell out of me.  Maybe it’s the horror stories I’ve read about birth mothers changing minds, or learning that a child has been severely abused prior to adoption, or even the enormous costs associated with the adoptive process.  I don’t know what it is, but I’m afraid.

But, since Brian and I are two good people who could provide a stable and loving environment to a child, I am willing to give it a try.  Or at least I was. 

As I spent hours reading about the adoption process, I learned a thing or three:

Adopting a child through the state is going to be a challenge.  I know that there are lots of older kids out there who need homes, but given my trepidation about it all, I really want to adopt an infant.  I want the opportunity to help shape a child and teach him or her right from wrong.  I fear that many older children have already been defined by their experiences, and while they deserve no less than a loving home, I am not prepared to undo any damage that has occurred. 

Adopting a child through a private agency (via an adoption attorney) is going to be expensive.  Probably more expensive than Brian and I could afford.  While this is the scenario most likely to provide us with an infant, it is the one that’s going to be the most difficult to pursue.   Moreover, since the process usually begins before the child is born, the chance of the birth mother changing her mind is real.

Adopting a child internationally is going to be nearly impossible.  I located a very reputable agency that handles international adoptions on a regular basis.  They have a list of countries that they work with (China, Russia, Bulgaria, Columbia, etc.), as well as the criteria that potential adoptive parents are required to meet.  On nearly every one, there is the following requirement:

No current medical conditions, chronic illnesses, infectious diseases, or severe deformities of applicants.

So, does this mean that as a Type 1 diabetic, which is a chronic condition, I am excluded as a potential parent?  I fired off an email to the agency to get the bottom line, but I have an awful feeling about it.

If anyone has any positive (and recent) adoption experiences to share, please do so.  If you know of reputable agencies or attorneys, please share that info, as well.  We’re really starting from scratch here, and it’s hard to separate fact from fiction.