Okay, so there is no crisis. Maybe that's why I haven't been blogging as much. Everything used to be a crisis until I put my foot down and just decided that there were too many uncertain days in the future to be wallowing in everything that simply wasn't.
I have faith in the human spirit and also in women. Women are hardy. I know this to be true because I see it every day. Sometimes I see it in the small things. Other acts are monumental and stick with me.
The truth will prevail in obstetrics. Every day that I walk onto the L&D unit, I see men parading themselves around and exerting "control." One is a giant man who proclaims to every one that he is God. Another one in a totally different practice wears a disposable gown behind him that flows like a cape everywhere he walks. Is he superman? Another surgeon, who has been in practice for nearly thirty years does cesarean sections completely around his schedule and I've watched him ask for women's "trust" in him (that their pelvis does not need a trial of labor because he knows that she cannot pass a baby through it). Therefore, she needs a primary cesarean section before labor has even begun.
In actuality, it's 6pm and I'm sure he's got other things to do that evening.
I'm sickened. Not because there is something really wrong with cesarean delivery - in the rare event it's needed - but because women have trusted physicians to do the right thing and they are being wronged at every junction. Blind sighted. Until it's too late.
Over the years, I've watched many situations unfold. I remember one physician who would go down and break every woman's water down the line systematically. Start at one room and then go from room to room. I remember one time that exact act caused a cord prolapse and so the physician went back into the room, diagnosed the cord prolapse and then was pushed on the bed with the patient - as a hero - to the operating room to "save the baby."
Are you kidding me?
I cannot lie. I'm angered. As a L&D nurse, I guess the anger reached a boiling point and I decided that, well ... I'm not cut out to be a OR nurse.
I just enjoyed good old fashioned vaginal deliveries.
Where does my anger come from? I suppose that I view those kind of acts as a huge display of disrespect.
I think, I guess, that by wearing capes and proclaiming God-like status shouts disrespect from the roof tops.
Didn't their mothers teach them any better?
Blatent disrespect for women. Blatent disrespect for our reproductive organs. Blatent disrespect for the really difficult process of becoming a mother.
Transitioning from young womanhood to motherhood cannot be bypassed with a scalpel.
I am so very grateful to be in the practice that I am in now. We are all women. Every single one of us is a mother. Our physicians would not hire and support midwives if they didn't believe in the role that midwifery plays in the health of women. I really wish our malpractice insurance would let up on the VBAC issue so that the physicians could practice them regularly and without fear of litigation.
New obstetricians have lost the art of their science. What happened to skilled forceps? What happened to determining the position of the baby and then helping baby rotate his head through the pelvis through a few contractions? What happened to patience and middle of the night deliveries?
I cringe when I think of what physicians have done in the past to laboring women but there are still some really good - but older - physicians who make wonderful obstetricians. And, it doesn't have much to do with their surgical skill set.
I think my anger reached a boiling point and then I followed the profound Gandhi statement, "be the change you want to see in the world." Overall, my existence is not aligned entirely but I'm making small steps to get there.
The irony is that it begins with respect. I respect all those forces that are greater than myself but that combine to make life the way it is today. So many days, I just sit in awe of all that is grand around me.
I have learned that when I give respect, I get it in return. I respect you and I will safeguard your desires and your cultural beliefs, even if they are not my own.
Unless something changes, my kids will finally go to Florida in the next week or two to transition to life in the south. A new elementary school (a cute one, too). Daddeh is so super excited to have them all to himself for a few months. I'm excited for them. Jenna may finally get her wish - horse riding lessons. Darin will finally get his wish - camping and fishing. Since I became pregnant with my first child, I have tended to my children full time plus and I'm finally ready to let them go into Daddeh's hands for a few months. I trust my husband completely with their care and I think that is such a privilege I have.
I'm not even sure what to expect from myself without having my children here. Even if temporary, I cannot even begin to fathom what I will feel like or my house will be like without my children living in it every day. I have learned to cope with copious noise.
A few house projects will get done - I plan to refinish the hardwood floors (hmm ... by myself? Possibly!). I plan to get the flood venting in. I plan to paint. I plan to landscape the front yard. I will keep myself busy in this house. And, then, at some point, I will run out of projects. I will no longer see the fun in endless hours of reading.
My own thoughts will become toxic in the stillness.
And, then, I will have no choice but to move me and my thoughts to Florida to join the clan.
This is how I imagine it will play out.
Will that happen? What will happen? I have never. Ever. Had days on end by myself. I don't even know what will happen. Guessing is all I can do.
The truth of it is that I will probably just worry myself to death and, just to keep myself sane, I will have relocate just minutes behind them.
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