A Diaper Box Rant

I feel like I should give you a heads up here and let you know that it's possible this post could include a bit of political ranting that you may or may not feel up for if you're just sitting down with your granola this morning. Or it's possible this post might take an unexpected turn and become an emotional ode to the jar of Nutella in my pantry, you really just never know. I'm just saying, be prepared for anything.

Today was another monthly heartbeat check-up for Le Bebe and she passed with flying colors. (High fives all around). However, there was a bit of unpleasant information that I was made aware of while there. During my appointment, I, a bit nervously, let the midwife know that I'm pretty sure I'm going to want to schedule another c-section this time around. (I realize some of you out there might be shaking your heads in disapproval, so if you want to chat with me about my reasons for this decision, I'm totally up for that.) After hearing my explanation regarding my last c-section, she was totally understanding and awesome. Then (prepare yourselves, oh lovers of natural birthing methods), I brought up an issue we've recently discovered regarding our insurance. Turns out, our $3500 deductible starts over seven days before my due date. Well, la tee da, the midwife says, because they do c-sections a week early anyway, so it shouldn't be an issue. But, then, I counter with the fact that I need it done 1 day earlier so as to avoid having to pay a deductible we would have just met a mere 24 hours before. And here is where the story takes a dark turn and I began to consider moving to Canada (which wouldn't actually do me any good, other than to be nearer to the fictional home of Anne of Green Gables).

The midwife informs me that, come July, the new healthcare plan will begin to take its effect and the government will no longer allow healthcare providers to induce or, apparently, perform c-sections before the 39 week mark. This restriction is apparently in place regardless of the doctor's discretion regarding a patient's health issues, including diabetes and hypertension to name a couple, that might be complicated by waiting to deliver after 39 weeks (i.e. scary). Because this doctor's office schedules c-sections at 39 weeks anyway, I would only be asking to deliver my baby 24 hours earlier, which would have no effect on her health or mine. Plus, the added bonus of saving $3500 that we could put toward her college fund, or a new carseat, or to offset the cost of the 45,098 diapers we'll have purchased by the time she's 3.

So, obviously, I'm rather incensed at this news and the reality of a government official somewhere making a decision about my healthcare, trumping even my doctor's decision and judgment. But, to be honest, there's something else here that makes me even more likely to stand on a soap box (or diaper box, whatever's handy) and hold up a picket sign. Just before meeting with the midwife, I spent a little time waiting in the exam room reading in Marie Claire about all the actresses who've been making poor fashion choices involving mid-drifts lately. Suddenly, amidst the bizzare fashion ads, mid-magazine was an article listing all the states that have been making it more difficult lately to have an abortion after 20 weeks. The editors were up in arms about this injustice as well as the "totally unreasonable" requirement that some states have made insisting that a pregnant woman hear the heartbeat of her baby before she decides whether or not to abort it. Marie Claire editors wanted me to be aware of how my personal rights were being encroached upon and that I needed to write to my congressmen to demand that I be able to do what I want with my body and the fetus growing inside of it. I felt my baby girl jump and I immediately closed the magazine. I was tempted to burn it but didn't have a lighter on me.

To sum up, I think what I'm most bothered by after this morning's appointment is, not that I might lose a few thousand dollars because the government restricts when I can have my own baby, but that our government sanctions fully developed babies, with perfectly formed eyes and noses and hearts that beat at 140 beats a minute, to be disposed of like insignificant tissue. And yet, at the same time, it imposes restrictions on mothers who are choosing to have their babies, implying that those babies suddenly have human status and deserve to be protected by the beneficent government. Obviously, I don't believe that's the actual motivation behind this governmental restriction. I can only imagine the reasons behind this decision made by people totally removed from the realm of actual health care.

All of this only makes me more aware of how vulnerable the smallest ones in our society are and that our government has more and more say over their entry into the world, either as living, wanted babies or as aborted, inconvenient fetuses.

I find myself asking the question, what on earth can I do to make a difference? How can I be a part of the culture of abortion being upended and help rescue the more than a million little ones a year who are being aborted?

Right now, I'm going to keep loving this little one inside me as hard as I can and pray that, for all the other precious babes who aren't loved and who aren't wanted, that their mothers' hearts would be miraculously changed. I know there's more I can do. I'm just not sure what it is yet.

Pray with me for all those mothers who need hope and for the little ones who need rescuing.

 "Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow's cause."- Isaiah 1:17

"A person's a person, no matter how small." - Horton Hears a Who"

Remember this guy? My first babe, the Samster.