Some acronyms I can handle.
TTC (trying to conceive)
BFP (big fat positive – pregnancy test, that is)
Tbsp (Tablespoon — although I always have to take a double take to make sure it isn’t Tsp and I am not going to over chili powder my dinner).
But this week, the last thing I want thrown at me is another acronym.
My loathing for acronyms started a few weeks ago when we were told by our fertility doctor that we need to have a psychosocial evaluation done before we can proceed with any baby-makin’.
They assured us that the evaluation does not determine if we can have a baby or not, or if we are crazy or not, but rather it’s purpose is to ask important questions of both partners (“will you beat your kid?” “do you think eating vegetables are important for brain development?” “who was better, Michael Keaton or Val Kilmer?”).
They recommended a woman to us who wanted to charge $250+ for a one hour session. Are you kidding me?? $250?
I’m not going to lie. I think I am extremely interesting and important, but I cannot imagine charging someone that much money to sit around on a comfy couch and talk to them. Especially when we are already trying to make what looks like is going to be a million dollar baby.
So, because our money tree didn’t fair as well as our gigantic tomato plants, we are on the search for a more reasonable person.
We were told that we could use our current therapist/acupuncturist, so we sat down with her and had a nice 2 hour conversation. She wrote up a letter, mailed it off and we thought we were in the clear. Not so fast…
They said that she does not have the correct license needed to do the evaluation.
Now… I am no genius, and I am certainly not a social worker, but I think any person with an ounce of intelligence and a heart for other people can look at two people and determine if they are going to be ok as parents… oh, but wait… that wasn’t the purpose of the evaluation, right?
Apparently, our therapist who has known us for years, who we trust and who, by the way, has raised two beautiful, normal and kind girls as a lesbian, is not enough. We need someone who has some fancy acronyms at the end of her name to say that we will parent properly and will not scream at each other. They want to make sure that I am not going to drag the kids around by their hair when they do something I don’t like, I suppose.
Last time I checked… correct me if I am wrong… Super Nanny and that weird guy from Shalom in the Home (remember that blast from crappy-tv past?!) are not certified anythings – except for money-makers. They don’t need to be LCSW-C EIEIOs before going into a home to make it more sane.
But I digress… so, nonetheless,after 2 hours of time with our therapist, we are now on a crazy search for a new LCSW-C who can “evaluate” us and say we will be nice people to small children.
We need someone to ask us if we have thought about what we will say to our kids when they ask who their father is. Are you kidding me??? We are using sperm that comes in a giant steel container that we don’t know from the next giant steel container… of course we have talked about it.
I am hoping to get this whole big mess settled — and get Lauren to nicely talk to me again — by the end of the day tomorrow. We have some prospects in the pipe (no pun or TTC lingo intended) and will let you know how things develop.