Pregnancy: SIDS, Statistics
After reading yet another post in pregnant that irritates me, I began reflecting on the value of statistics, in terms of how those numbers bring comfort and/or stress to expectant mothers.
First of all, I see a fair number of women in that community that became pregnant, despite using methods of birth control. Allegedly, hormonal birth control pills have varying rates of successfully preventing conception up to and including 99.9 percent. That alone would seem to suggest that trusting statistics is faulty, or at least something to be done, because I know I've gotten pregnant on the pill twice. I've also had at least one chemical pregnancy that I'm aware of, and I've been consistently on one form of hormonal birth control or another since 2002. Not to mention that whole endometriosis thing, which my doctor estimated would keep me from ever carrying a pregnancy to term, let alone conceive naturally.
Second, while as a logical person I appreciate trying to soothe over concerns with the comfort of science, on an emotional level, facts and figures often do very little to ease what has a person upset. For example, as I've blogged about here before, Sudden Infant Death Syndrome is something that I'm so afraid of, it's fair to describe me as paranoid. The most stringent reason behind my objection to have a Cesarean section is how it can influence my milk supply, and the correlation between breast milk and SIDS prevention is well-established.
But even this does little to comfort me when I get ultimately upset, because the prevailing wisdom of SIDS doesn't apply to my experience. My eldest brother died of SIDS in 1977, when nobody really understood what SIDS was. Doctors reassured my parents that SIDS "never strikes the same family twice," and that certainly seemed true with the birth of DJ a short time later. Between Billy and DJ, my parents learned everything they could--they breastfed exclusively, they learned about sleeping children on their backs. And when Brittany followed DJ in 1982, they really believed they were in the clear.
Then, obviously, Brittany died of SIDS. This, despite my parents doing everything they had done with DJ, everything that the doctors and the science that they believed in told them would keep their children safe. By the time Ryan and I were born in 1984, I'm amazed we ever left the house. I have a vague recollection of the monitors we were kept on, and the hospital visits. But my parents never completely trusted the idea that we were safe from SIDS. Even now, it's rare that we have a phone conversation about Sephie without a parting advice of anti-SIDS wisdom. It's their way of trying to bring some comfort and control that we all know we don't really have. With all of our advances, we still don't truly understand SIDS.
Of course, SIDS and my distrust of the reassurances with the facts and figures wasn't even the focus of the post that inspired this, my response to it. But I did share my experience with why I personally don't find the discussion of statistics helpful when stressing about something relating to pregnancy, particularly if the only response one can offer is, "Your statistic is wrong," without any additional information or compassionate sign-off. Someone can reassure me until they are blue in the fact that SIDS will never happen to me, but they can't know for sure. My family history is proof of that.
It drives me crazy on a personal level as well, because despite knowing my history, B is quick to reassure me that SIDS won't happen to us. He insists his research indicates it doesn't cluster in families, and I'm always quick to point out: how do you explain the loss of my brother and sister, then? An anomaly? Maybe, but wouldn't that seem to suggest there's a defect with our genetic make-up that has the potential to likewise impact any child I bring into the world?
I get that, for many people, saying something is unlikely is their way of diffusing the fear associated with a stressful situation. When we were waiting for the results of Hayden's paternity test, B's mom was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hayden wasn't B's child because when she picked him up, he "didn't feel" like her grandson. It was obviously not a rational, scientific basis with which to make such a decision, but it comforted her for a while. I even understand the idea that we can bargain our way out of making something tangible if we protect ourselves with the cold, unfeeling numbers that render emotion out of a situation.
But when someone is upset, it probably isn't the best time to do it. Whether that subject is protecting a child against SIDS, waiting for results on an abnormal pap smear or wondering if your symptoms indicate a serious medical problem, chances are, stating that a statistic has been inflated will only bring you comfort if your name is Temperance Brennan. Otherwise, ignore the statistic and dispense some actual comforting, compassionate and supportive words.
As I said, it isn't a post of mine that inspired this response, but it did make me think. In my case, don't tell me SIDS is unlikely, because I already know the statistics but I also know my family defied them. We love to talk about defying the odds when it's a good thing, but you talk about defying the odds when it's a tragedy and people accuse you of being a perpetual pessimist. I don't want to hear how it won't impact me because those are the same empty promises fed to my parents, and if they'd listened to the doctors after they gave the same schpeel following Brittany's death, I probably wouldn't be here.
And in the case of somebody else wanting reassurance about postpartum, don't tell them to go and do their research about what the rate of PPD in women actually is when they're asking for insight on the next step of addressing their symptoms.
First of all, I see a fair number of women in that community that became pregnant, despite using methods of birth control. Allegedly, hormonal birth control pills have varying rates of successfully preventing conception up to and including 99.9 percent. That alone would seem to suggest that trusting statistics is faulty, or at least something to be done, because I know I've gotten pregnant on the pill twice. I've also had at least one chemical pregnancy that I'm aware of, and I've been consistently on one form of hormonal birth control or another since 2002. Not to mention that whole endometriosis thing, which my doctor estimated would keep me from ever carrying a pregnancy to term, let alone conceive naturally.
Second, while as a logical person I appreciate trying to soothe over concerns with the comfort of science, on an emotional level, facts and figures often do very little to ease what has a person upset. For example, as I've blogged about here before, Sudden Infant Death Syndrome is something that I'm so afraid of, it's fair to describe me as paranoid. The most stringent reason behind my objection to have a Cesarean section is how it can influence my milk supply, and the correlation between breast milk and SIDS prevention is well-established.
But even this does little to comfort me when I get ultimately upset, because the prevailing wisdom of SIDS doesn't apply to my experience. My eldest brother died of SIDS in 1977, when nobody really understood what SIDS was. Doctors reassured my parents that SIDS "never strikes the same family twice," and that certainly seemed true with the birth of DJ a short time later. Between Billy and DJ, my parents learned everything they could--they breastfed exclusively, they learned about sleeping children on their backs. And when Brittany followed DJ in 1982, they really believed they were in the clear.
Then, obviously, Brittany died of SIDS. This, despite my parents doing everything they had done with DJ, everything that the doctors and the science that they believed in told them would keep their children safe. By the time Ryan and I were born in 1984, I'm amazed we ever left the house. I have a vague recollection of the monitors we were kept on, and the hospital visits. But my parents never completely trusted the idea that we were safe from SIDS. Even now, it's rare that we have a phone conversation about Sephie without a parting advice of anti-SIDS wisdom. It's their way of trying to bring some comfort and control that we all know we don't really have. With all of our advances, we still don't truly understand SIDS.
Of course, SIDS and my distrust of the reassurances with the facts and figures wasn't even the focus of the post that inspired this, my response to it. But I did share my experience with why I personally don't find the discussion of statistics helpful when stressing about something relating to pregnancy, particularly if the only response one can offer is, "Your statistic is wrong," without any additional information or compassionate sign-off. Someone can reassure me until they are blue in the fact that SIDS will never happen to me, but they can't know for sure. My family history is proof of that.
It drives me crazy on a personal level as well, because despite knowing my history, B is quick to reassure me that SIDS won't happen to us. He insists his research indicates it doesn't cluster in families, and I'm always quick to point out: how do you explain the loss of my brother and sister, then? An anomaly? Maybe, but wouldn't that seem to suggest there's a defect with our genetic make-up that has the potential to likewise impact any child I bring into the world?
I get that, for many people, saying something is unlikely is their way of diffusing the fear associated with a stressful situation. When we were waiting for the results of Hayden's paternity test, B's mom was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hayden wasn't B's child because when she picked him up, he "didn't feel" like her grandson. It was obviously not a rational, scientific basis with which to make such a decision, but it comforted her for a while. I even understand the idea that we can bargain our way out of making something tangible if we protect ourselves with the cold, unfeeling numbers that render emotion out of a situation.
But when someone is upset, it probably isn't the best time to do it. Whether that subject is protecting a child against SIDS, waiting for results on an abnormal pap smear or wondering if your symptoms indicate a serious medical problem, chances are, stating that a statistic has been inflated will only bring you comfort if your name is Temperance Brennan. Otherwise, ignore the statistic and dispense some actual comforting, compassionate and supportive words.
As I said, it isn't a post of mine that inspired this response, but it did make me think. In my case, don't tell me SIDS is unlikely, because I already know the statistics but I also know my family defied them. We love to talk about defying the odds when it's a good thing, but you talk about defying the odds when it's a tragedy and people accuse you of being a perpetual pessimist. I don't want to hear how it won't impact me because those are the same empty promises fed to my parents, and if they'd listened to the doctors after they gave the same schpeel following Brittany's death, I probably wouldn't be here.
And in the case of somebody else wanting reassurance about postpartum, don't tell them to go and do their research about what the rate of PPD in women actually is when they're asking for insight on the next step of addressing their symptoms.