We lived in the USA for a while, and when we were out there I must’ve got my wife drunk on Old Yella, Rattlesnake Moonshine, or some other American drink, and one thing led to another, and…
To summarize, we had a baby.
For which we were eternally grateful, may I add. My youngest daughter never reads this, (which is lucky because of the disgusting behaviour above) so no real need for the sucking up.
We were only in the US for a couple of years, and we weren’t really planning on having another baby just then, but I must’ve been just too damn attractive that night.
Imagine that’s attractive (requires Old Yella).
Anyway, our medical insurance wasn’t up to scratch, it was very basic. I think it only catered for the extremes, minor sneezing events and shipping our dead bodies back to the UK.
Our daughter-to-be wasn’t covered.
Two seconds after my wife wee-ed on the stick, the phone calls started. Charismatic people from ‘Your-Baby-Means-Everything-To-Us Prenatal’ on 54th Street called continuously, as well as a dozen others willing to guide us through our fetal journey.
Fancy Dan: ‘If you’re a real man you need to get your wife a thorough assessment, here at ‘Don’t be a bad father Prenatal’
Me: ‘But she’s just wee-ed…’
Fancy Dan: ‘Sir, get here now or you’re a POTENTIAL MURDERER.’
I can’t remember the conversation exactly, but that was the gist of it. Before we knew it we were being assessed. When I say we, everyone knows I just sat around looking silly because my work was done. 
Another Fancy Dan, worked out our ‘Road to Gestation’:
‘Weeks 4 -28, we need to communicate every 3 seconds or you idiots will mess things up and your conscience will eat you alive.
Weeks 28-36, every 6 seconds, and the last trimester I have a team of specialists who will be sleeping with your wife round the clock.’
With our first child, born in the UK, I was used to the NHS way – see you when you’re 6 cm.
So this was all a bit confusing.
Shortly after the assessments started, the letters started piling through the door. Think of Harry Potter at Privet Drive.
Each letter had pictures of awesome-looking babies on the envelope, and if we followed the rules we too could have one of those.
Inside was a lot of numbers, here’s just one of many examples:
Consultant fee $395
Blood pressure test $79
Chorionic gonadotropi $95
Nuchal translucency $125
Ultrasound bone determination $143
Tylenol for husband $1
Receptionist Americano with semi-skimmed $10
Toys for a stupid husband to play with $20
Thanks for loving your child – Total $868
Payment due in the next 7 days or legal action will be swift and decisive.
Half way through ‘the journey’, the senior ‘I’m better than a midwife’ obstetrician, sent us on a 1000 mile round trip to a specialist unit in Salt Lake City for a few extra checks, or as I would now put it, a few extra cheques.
You’ll be glad to know everything turned out fine, almost…
The bank account is still on the critical list.
Just to let you know, my eldest daughter was free, but she’s gone to university, so she’s making up for her initial cheapness.
Here’s a useful device I’m thinking of taking to Dragon’s Den.
It really hurts during labour, when your wife is crushing the living daylights out of your hand – and there’s no need for everyone to suffer, is there?
(Mothers, please don’t unsubscribe, that was a joke (unless you see me on Dragon’s Den with a million pounds in my back pocket)).
Enjoy your weekend.
Take care and all the best,
Ian
(If you want to leave a comment below, that would be great)
My granddaughter was born via IVF in Dubai. Imagine the cost of that!
Wow, I can imagine
Always easier to think of these things in hindsight, but wasn’t there any way you could have planned to come back to the UK for the birth , especially as you still (sort of) “lived here?” We were on Holiday in Canada and one of my mates, managed to get stung by some kind of water monster (we never ever did find out what exactly it was, some kind of mutant eel/stickleback sort of thing, it brushed past him in the water and spiked him), thought no more of it, til a few days later when it started to swell up, at first we just stopped at a general store and got some White Wine Vinegar, reckoned it would take the sting out and eventually that would be it. No danger! Conscious of the fact that we weren’t home! we kept debating about whether or not to seek medical help as we had no idea what they would tell us and if it would end up costing us, eventually I think we went to see a doctor in whatever town we were travelling through, and if I remember correct, he gave him a prescription from some tablets. Thankfully, that was as much as it cost us, but we spent the next few days driving round with the windows wound down to try and clear the car of the smell of vinegar :-D