Careless words
It seems like the battle for women’s rights has mutated - at least when it comes to mothers and babies - into “the battle to tell woman what is right for them”.
And, to be brutally honest, it’s pissing me off.
We all hear about the cult of the breast-feeding Nazis. As a new parent, you tend to come across them a lot. Soon after LJ was born, SJ and I had a running battle with some of the hospital’s nursing staff. They had decided that, should LJ not be prepared to breast feed, she would be gavage fed. That, for the uninitiated, is a tube through the nose and into the stomach.
The reasoning of these “experts” was that feeding from a bottle makes a baby lazy. As opposed, one reasons, from having the food magically appearing in the baby’s stomach, no work required? Shyeah, right.
It took many nights of haranguing and many phone calls between us and the paediatrician to sort that mess out. But we figured, hey, it’s hopefully the last time we’ll run into that kind of predicament. Especially when circumstances changed two weeks ago, requiring LJ to be 100 per cent bottle-fed.
… we were young and naïve, weren’t we?
The Yahootee Mormons are everywhere, and so are the mothering Nazis. I’ve spread the definition because it’s true - there are more pseudo medical “professionals” out there ready to order you to look after your child a certain way than there are closet Futurama fans. There are the “youth health workers” responsible for weighing and measuring your child each week… who love passing on their opinions as to what you should be doing.
SJ came home in tears the other night following such an encounter - the huffy bitch informed SJ that LJ must have her playtime after every feed, or else she will turn into little more than a sleeping and eating machine. And that if she feeds for longer than 45 minutes, her bottle should simply be taken away. And on the topic of bottles, how did SJ feel about using them, considering it meant she was no longer doing the proper motherly thing and breast feeding?
It comes from unexpected sources, too. Like my family GP.
This man has been a godsend to myself, my mother and my father for years. He diagnosed my hyperactivity, found the only possible treatment for my migraines and came to my aid when work was at its worst. After SJ’s obstetrician recommended she have the implant form of birth control, we contacted Dr Reliability. His secretary confirmed that, yes, he did perform the minor surgery required, following an initial consultation to talk about potential side-effects and what not.
No problem, we figure. SJ makes the appointment for a morning when I’m at work and, at the allocated time, we go our separate ways. I think little more of it until I receive a tearful phone call from my wife, LJ screaming in the background.
Dr Reliability does not perform the surgery. He used to, before he “took out more of the implants” than he “ever put in”. In fact, he will not perform the surgery because he wouldn’t do it to his “own daughter”, and therefore no one else. Besides, he asks, what’s really wrong if SJ falls pregnant again, straight away? Isn’t it always better to have multiple children?
On a doctor’s salary perhaps. And I was an only child. There isn’t (all joking aside, please) that much wrong with me.
It’s reverse discrimination - not respecting the rights of the woman, but reserving the right to tell a woman what they should be doing. It’s asinine, out of date and thoroughly annoying. I’m sick of this happening to SJ - sick of seeing her so upset - and especially sick of this happening when I’m not there. Honestly makes me wonder if people would be so quick to spread “advice” if SJ had some back-up.
Doctors, specialists and “health workers” talk a lot about post-natal and post-partum depression, of the dangers those conditions can cause to women and, as a result, their babies. Perhaps it’s time these same people started thinking about the potentially disastrous effects of their own poorly-chosen, self-important words.
Greet the Fire as Your Friend,
SF
And, to be brutally honest, it’s pissing me off.
We all hear about the cult of the breast-feeding Nazis. As a new parent, you tend to come across them a lot. Soon after LJ was born, SJ and I had a running battle with some of the hospital’s nursing staff. They had decided that, should LJ not be prepared to breast feed, she would be gavage fed. That, for the uninitiated, is a tube through the nose and into the stomach.
The reasoning of these “experts” was that feeding from a bottle makes a baby lazy. As opposed, one reasons, from having the food magically appearing in the baby’s stomach, no work required? Shyeah, right.
It took many nights of haranguing and many phone calls between us and the paediatrician to sort that mess out. But we figured, hey, it’s hopefully the last time we’ll run into that kind of predicament. Especially when circumstances changed two weeks ago, requiring LJ to be 100 per cent bottle-fed.
… we were young and naïve, weren’t we?
The Yahootee Mormons are everywhere, and so are the mothering Nazis. I’ve spread the definition because it’s true - there are more pseudo medical “professionals” out there ready to order you to look after your child a certain way than there are closet Futurama fans. There are the “youth health workers” responsible for weighing and measuring your child each week… who love passing on their opinions as to what you should be doing.
SJ came home in tears the other night following such an encounter - the huffy bitch informed SJ that LJ must have her playtime after every feed, or else she will turn into little more than a sleeping and eating machine. And that if she feeds for longer than 45 minutes, her bottle should simply be taken away. And on the topic of bottles, how did SJ feel about using them, considering it meant she was no longer doing the proper motherly thing and breast feeding?
It comes from unexpected sources, too. Like my family GP.
This man has been a godsend to myself, my mother and my father for years. He diagnosed my hyperactivity, found the only possible treatment for my migraines and came to my aid when work was at its worst. After SJ’s obstetrician recommended she have the implant form of birth control, we contacted Dr Reliability. His secretary confirmed that, yes, he did perform the minor surgery required, following an initial consultation to talk about potential side-effects and what not.
No problem, we figure. SJ makes the appointment for a morning when I’m at work and, at the allocated time, we go our separate ways. I think little more of it until I receive a tearful phone call from my wife, LJ screaming in the background.
Dr Reliability does not perform the surgery. He used to, before he “took out more of the implants” than he “ever put in”. In fact, he will not perform the surgery because he wouldn’t do it to his “own daughter”, and therefore no one else. Besides, he asks, what’s really wrong if SJ falls pregnant again, straight away? Isn’t it always better to have multiple children?
On a doctor’s salary perhaps. And I was an only child. There isn’t (all joking aside, please) that much wrong with me.
It’s reverse discrimination - not respecting the rights of the woman, but reserving the right to tell a woman what they should be doing. It’s asinine, out of date and thoroughly annoying. I’m sick of this happening to SJ - sick of seeing her so upset - and especially sick of this happening when I’m not there. Honestly makes me wonder if people would be so quick to spread “advice” if SJ had some back-up.
Doctors, specialists and “health workers” talk a lot about post-natal and post-partum depression, of the dangers those conditions can cause to women and, as a result, their babies. Perhaps it’s time these same people started thinking about the potentially disastrous effects of their own poorly-chosen, self-important words.
Greet the Fire as Your Friend,
SF