WhitneyTo Be or Not to a Mother - Part Two
November 21st 2006 20:24
[So I went to the OB/GYN and he confirmed that I was pregnant…again. Like I needed any confirmation at that point. He really didn’t have to ask. All he had to do was look at my greenish hue, but I guess it’s polite to ask someone how they’re feeling, especially if they’re a patient. So he asked. And I told him that while I hadn’t thrown up yet I could barely concentrate on anything I was so nauseous. Ya know what he said?
He said, “doesn’t that make you feel better?”
And I thought - because the good little girl in me would never want to hurt another person’s feelings, make THEM feel uncomfortable or be confrontational - better? How? Than a terminal cancer patient who’s on heavy doses of chemotherapy?
But like the good girl I was, all I said was …”what do you mean?”
And he explained, “Doesn’t the nausea give you some peace of mind, since when you had the miscarriage - did I mention that before I had Josh and after trying and trying and trying to get pregnant I did and I had a miscarriage? A pregnancy I only discovered while I was having the miscarriage. A miscarriage that was probably caused by the antibiotic the GYN (a different doctor in the practice and one who for obvious reasons I’d never see again), who was helping me conquer my infertility at the time, had prescribed when he thought the frequent urination I was complaining about was due to a urinary infection which he concluded without first running a pregnancy test to rule out that it was the fetus pressing on my bladder – you had not been nauseous?”
No it didn’t give me peace of mind. All it gave me was this urge to purge. No matter how he tried to put a positive spin on it we both knew what he was saying was a load of
crap.
When he finally realized that I wasn’t buying into his “spin” he reminded me that I could always choose not to continue the pregnancy. And based upon how sick I had been the last time it was completely understandable.
As I drove home thinking about the fairy tales my husband had read to me as I lay in that hospital bed trying to keep down at least a small portion of the food I’d eaten so they’d sign my release papers, I thought about it. Now I’m an avid pro-choicer. My body, my choice. And I don’t believe in the “fetus is a baby from the moment of conception”, theory. Or that abortion is a mortal sin staining my everlasting soul. To me that’s all some mumbo jumbo that powerless people use to exert influence, O.K., total control over someone else. To me it was simply a procedure. True it was surgical so it had its risks but up to that point it had no more drama surrounding it than a D &C or a tonsillectomy.
So the question for me wasn’t about right or wrong but whether or not I was willing to go through all that suffering again to have my girl. Because I knew I was having a girl. And the answer? Yes.
He said, “doesn’t that make you feel better?”
And I thought - because the good little girl in me would never want to hurt another person’s feelings, make THEM feel uncomfortable or be confrontational - better? How? Than a terminal cancer patient who’s on heavy doses of chemotherapy?
But like the good girl I was, all I said was …”what do you mean?”
And he explained, “Doesn’t the nausea give you some peace of mind, since when you had the miscarriage - did I mention that before I had Josh and after trying and trying and trying to get pregnant I did and I had a miscarriage? A pregnancy I only discovered while I was having the miscarriage. A miscarriage that was probably caused by the antibiotic the GYN (a different doctor in the practice and one who for obvious reasons I’d never see again), who was helping me conquer my infertility at the time, had prescribed when he thought the frequent urination I was complaining about was due to a urinary infection which he concluded without first running a pregnancy test to rule out that it was the fetus pressing on my bladder – you had not been nauseous?”
No it didn’t give me peace of mind. All it gave me was this urge to purge. No matter how he tried to put a positive spin on it we both knew what he was saying was a load of
crap.
As I drove home thinking about the fairy tales my husband had read to me as I lay in that hospital bed trying to keep down at least a small portion of the food I’d eaten so they’d sign my release papers, I thought about it. Now I’m an avid pro-choicer. My body, my choice. And I don’t believe in the “fetus is a baby from the moment of conception”, theory. Or that abortion is a mortal sin staining my everlasting soul. To me that’s all some mumbo jumbo that powerless people use to exert influence, O.K., total control over someone else. To me it was simply a procedure. True it was surgical so it had its risks but up to that point it had no more drama surrounding it than a D &C or a tonsillectomy.
So the question for me wasn’t about right or wrong but whether or not I was willing to go through all that suffering again to have my girl. Because I knew I was having a girl. And the answer? Yes.
| 42 |
| Vote |
