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Feb. 16th, 2007
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On Pain (PoAC)
Feb. 16th, 2007 08:56 pmMost people, when they have surgery, have a few weeks afterwards in which everyone around them is very solicitous of their well-being. Cards are sent. Sometimes there are baskets of fruit. People bring casseroles. Friends and family ask how the recovery is going. Those who are closest to the patient generally get more of the truth - it's sheer hell - than those further away. But the focus is on the patient.
But when a woman has a c-section, or for that matter any birth with a fair degree of medical intervention, that's not the case. Some people will focus on the mother, but most focus on the baby. To be fair, the mother herself is trying to focus on the baby. A huge new chapter in life has opened before her, and she wants to get past the pain and just get on with it. So she doesn't protest when all the gifts are for the child. She doesn't expect fruit or get-well-soon cards. That's just not how it's done.
And yet.
She has still undergone a traumatic medical procedure. She's hurting. Depending on the circumstances, she may feel violated, and if she stops to consider it, she will probably feel resentment, not exactly towards the baby but towards the whole process of welcoming this child - a process that seems, on the surface, to ignore her. If the section was unexpected, she may be feeling helpless, as though her choice was taken away from her. And most importantly, she feels guilt. There's guilt for not focusing solely on the baby; there's guilt for the resentment; there's guilt that her body couldn't do its job of delivering that child without help; there's guilt at accepting medical interventions that may have contributed to the need for a section; and there's guilt for not being able to embrace the idea that, "All that matters is a healthy baby." After all, though it's rare in this day and age, there are still women who go through all of that and don't have their baby at the end of it. Isn't their pain greater than that of a woman who has a healthy baby, regardless of how it arrived?
Well, yes, their pain is greater. But that doesn't make the c-section any less traumatic. No one is sitting around balancing scales, judging who has a right to feel pain and who does not. It doesn't work that way. We all have our pain, and we all have to deal with it sooner or later. Comparisons fuel resentment, and serve to divide us from the ones most likely to be able to support us.
So, if I'm asked, I'll talk about what I felt after each of my sections. I cry with remembered pain sometimes. I refuse to feel guilty for allowing myself to feel my pain. I can't support the women around me in their pain, if I haven't dealt with my own. Each experience is different, each involves its own pain and joy, and each must be met on its own terms.
(Note: don't you dare feel guilty, Tiff, for making me feel guilty. You didn't. To each her own pain, and her own support for it, and her own catharsis of it. You sparked this post, but you didn't cause it - it's been on my heart for nine months, almost.)
But when a woman has a c-section, or for that matter any birth with a fair degree of medical intervention, that's not the case. Some people will focus on the mother, but most focus on the baby. To be fair, the mother herself is trying to focus on the baby. A huge new chapter in life has opened before her, and she wants to get past the pain and just get on with it. So she doesn't protest when all the gifts are for the child. She doesn't expect fruit or get-well-soon cards. That's just not how it's done.
And yet.
She has still undergone a traumatic medical procedure. She's hurting. Depending on the circumstances, she may feel violated, and if she stops to consider it, she will probably feel resentment, not exactly towards the baby but towards the whole process of welcoming this child - a process that seems, on the surface, to ignore her. If the section was unexpected, she may be feeling helpless, as though her choice was taken away from her. And most importantly, she feels guilt. There's guilt for not focusing solely on the baby; there's guilt for the resentment; there's guilt that her body couldn't do its job of delivering that child without help; there's guilt at accepting medical interventions that may have contributed to the need for a section; and there's guilt for not being able to embrace the idea that, "All that matters is a healthy baby." After all, though it's rare in this day and age, there are still women who go through all of that and don't have their baby at the end of it. Isn't their pain greater than that of a woman who has a healthy baby, regardless of how it arrived?
Well, yes, their pain is greater. But that doesn't make the c-section any less traumatic. No one is sitting around balancing scales, judging who has a right to feel pain and who does not. It doesn't work that way. We all have our pain, and we all have to deal with it sooner or later. Comparisons fuel resentment, and serve to divide us from the ones most likely to be able to support us.
So, if I'm asked, I'll talk about what I felt after each of my sections. I cry with remembered pain sometimes. I refuse to feel guilty for allowing myself to feel my pain. I can't support the women around me in their pain, if I haven't dealt with my own. Each experience is different, each involves its own pain and joy, and each must be met on its own terms.
(Note: don't you dare feel guilty, Tiff, for making me feel guilty. You didn't. To each her own pain, and her own support for it, and her own catharsis of it. You sparked this post, but you didn't cause it - it's been on my heart for nine months, almost.)