The Trauma of Childbirth

“I’m pregnant.”

Those 2 words have been a blessing or a curse to mothers since the beginning of time.

 Soon, Ma will be off to the doctor for a sonogram. She can't wait to see it. The nurses are so happy rubbing the gooey thingamajig over and over her womb.

Everybody in the room is so happy.

Well, except Jr. His brain is being irradiated and cooked. His skull is not much thicker than the goo on ma’s belly. His testicles are also feeling the heat. Or her ovaries.

That plus a high-pitched siren sound ringing in the echo chamber of the womb.
For the first time, jr. is awake.

Ma is hypnotized by the Rorschach-like blob.  Soon she will return for another one. And another.

“My water broke!”

When those 3 words ring out, Ma goes into a heightened trance-like state. She's rushed to the hospital.  The doctor arrives. Now it's a waiting game.

The contractions slowly ebb and flow. Mom's oxytocin is slowly being activated. So is dads.  

The doctor doesn’t understand that the mother lying on her back, with her torso elevated, restricted by the hospital bed, is unnatural. The mother should have the freedom to move into whatever position she feels is best. Squatting. Standing. Leaning over. Doc never had training in other positions. It never even crossed his mind that there are other ways. Better ways.

It’s been 6 hours, and Doc is getting impatient. He doesn’t understand that the creator has given the baby dominion at this time. That the baby decides when it will appear.

Doc has other plans. And he's got a trick up his sleeve, in the guise of a syringe. He's gonna’ induce labor.

“We’re going to give you something to help you,” he tells her. The needle pierces her skin.

And her contractions no longer ebb. It's all flow now. The ebbs have been taken away by chemical trickery.  The flows are unnaturally strong, turning her womb into a trash compactor. The instruments issue a Red Alert. Jr. is being crushed. 

The most beautiful time in a family's life is turning into a nightmare.

This ‘shot’ is synthetic oxytocin. It tricks her brain and shuts off her production. If dad is there, this causes his oxytocin to stop. Now stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline are in charge. 

Oxytocin. The magical hormone that bonds us. During childbirth, it gushes in amazing amounts. Four times more than any other time.  Mother, father, and child bond for life. 

The babies' oxytocin receptors are open and waiting for activation, from that magical hormone that is their birthright.

But the doctor had other plans. He doesn’t understand what is happening here. He wasn't taught this kind of stuff.                                                                                   

Doc's oxytocin receptors were never activated either, way back when he was the jr.  Back when dads waited in another room, chain smoking cigarettes. Now dad gets to watch, alongside nurses, interns, and the janitor. Gets to watch the doctor's hands deep inside his wife's vagina.

Soon he will see his son received by the doctor. Junior's first feeling is latex. His first smell is of a stranger.

The umbilical cord is deep purple and pulsing.  Doc immediately clamps it shut, and cuts it free.  Jr gasps for breath because the cord was pumping oxygen. Jr. has never had to breathe, he doesn't know how.                                                                             

But Doc has the answer. A stinging slap. Jr. shrieks, and blinding lights pierce his eyes. The purple cord is whisked away.  A cord full of oxygen, hormones, stem cells, and things we could never understand. Things that were meant for Jr.                     
The doctor is way over his head here.  Everyone is.                                             
Everyone except Jr.                                                                                                            

Doc gives the benefits of circumcision speech. He's had it memorized for years and soon takes Jr. to another room and lays him on a board.  Jrs. eyes are squeezed tight against the blinding lights. Four tiny straps secure his tiny arms and legs. Now Doc reaches for a sharp cold clamp. He slowly clamps it down on the tip of jrs tiny penis. He's got it just right.  He's an expert at this. He will now give jr the dick he will carry for life. He is sure his will be better than the creators. He squeezes, and the sharp steel digs in. Jr. reels.  It's secure all the way around. Doc hasn't looked at jr’s face since they left the birthing room.

He holds the base of jrs tiny penis with his free hand,  and slowly rips up.  Jr’s shrieks echo around the room, and his tiny body reels violently.

A Red Alert is issued inside Jr,  and platelets are rushed to stop the bleeding.

Doc doesn't understand that the foreskin he tosses into the container is a glans, which would have continued to change until puberty. And when that glans makes contact with the vaginal wall, pheromones are released. And oxytocin is triggered.

He doesn't understand that its folds…. hold vaginal secretions. To keep things juicy. And smelly.  The smell of love. The feel of love.

He doesn't understand that he just ripped off and tossed in the trash…..the most sensitive part of jrs body.

He presses a gooey bandage on the tiny penis tip to stop the bleeding.                   
Now he can bring him back and reunite the ‘happy family.’                                           

Jr was a little ‘lucky’. The doctor is gonna leave him soon. He could have been delivered by C-section. He would not have gone through the birth canal. He would not have picked up the essential fecal bacteria. Bacteria set the gut microbiome for life.

Then it would be off to the NICU. Induced births often end up there. The baby's heart rate is too low. Doctors don't understand that the relentless contractions crush the umbilical cord, cutting off the oxygen. The baby is suffocating. Brain damage may occur.

 So at least Jr dodged the NICU intravenous needles going into his arms, feet, and head. And the paralyzing drugs. He dodged the feeding tube down his throat into his stomach. The tracheotomy without anesthesia. Weeks wrapped in plastic. Weeks without being held. [ unless mom is permitted to ‘visit’ for a few hours. Even then holding may not be allowed ] 

Weeks without feeling skin touching him. The only touching pain. Yeah Jr was a little ‘lucky’. 

One more task: Doc can head to the party and brag to everyone he just delivered a baby.  He will be the ‘king of the party’.

Doc grabs a Hep. B vaccine. He doesn't have a clue what he will inject. He never thinks to investigate. His critical mind calcified decades ago.

He doesn't understand the immune system. The shield that the creator bestows on all creatures. He doesn't understand that it develops very slowly and thoughtfully by design. That the mother’s warm body and milk will be the baby's immune system. That it's not really dangerous out here. 

He doesn't understand that the immune system is also slow to react. That it is calm.  He thinks mother nature made a mistake in designing a baby's immune system. He doesn't understand it's ok to get sick. And then get well.  He doesn't appreciate the genius of the immune system. How it will slowly make you feel sick and lay you down. And raise your temperature just right to burn up whatever needs burning up. How it will create mucus to envelope invaders and blow them out. Or cough them out.. How it may decide to puke them out. And after one has been through that, the immune system is locked and loaded and ready for that invader forevermore. Lifetime immunity. No boosters needed. 

The immune system knows how to protect us. It always has.  It is impeccable.

In his 8 years of medical school, Doc learned the body is flawed. And diseased. And helpless. In his 8 years of medical school, Doc never rejoiced over the miracle of the body.

And in his 8 years of medical school,  the doctor never danced. Sadly, his dancin’ days ended before his teens did.

He picks up the syringe. He doesn't care if it's an 8 pounder or a 3-pound preemie. The needle pierces jrs. tiny muscle and he reels again. Another Danger Red Alert is issued inside Jr. Mom and dad feel the pain too. Mom and dad don't know what was injected into their son's arm. They don't know what happened in the other room either.  

On the way out, the doctor orders the nurse to give the mother 6 cans of infant formula. He’s never read the label.

Mom is also given baby powder with arsenic and baby oil from petroleum. 

But more and more women are going back to the old ways. When the water breaks, the midwife is called. She arrives with her lunch and dinner. She's here for the long haul. She knows this is going to be just fine, and her confidence is contagious. The lights are low and soothing music is playing. The grandparents are on the way. This is better than the best party.

The ebbs intensify. But the flows are soothing. Dad and mother are together. Their oxytocin is flowing as never before.

Hours and hours and hours pass, and then it happens so naturally. Dad receives his baby with warm hands. Hands that just know exactly what to do. He places his child on mom's bosom and the 3 of them become 1 thing.

The umbilical cord is deep purple and pulsing. This Jr is being primed for a lifetime of happiness. This Jr feels the warmth.  Oxytocin is everywhere, magically flowing between them. This Jr’s oxytocin receptors runneth over. This family is bonded for life.

As the purple cord slowly turns lavender,  he slowly starts breathing on his own, and his eyes open wider and wider. What a sight he sees. A mother and father gazing at him and each other with love.

There are no needles here. No gloves, masks, or ripping devices. Fresh air seeps in through the windows. Fresh air and the sound of chirping baby birds.

Soon he will meet his grandparents.  He's gonna love them.  He's been primed for it. This is one happy family.

Back at the hospital, our other jr is alone with mom and dad. He's had a rough start. There's no oxytocin here. This family did not bond.  

Jr instinctively knows that no one will protect him. Mom instinctively knows dad is not a protector. Dad instinctively knows that they are right.  All 3 are confused and uneasy. This event has been branded into all 3 souls.

Mom is feeling the first pangs of postpartum depression.

But her GYN has the answer for that. Prozac. Followed with Paxil. And then add Zoloft.

If this happened to you, mom or dad, and it happened to so many, first forgive yourself. You didn't know. And then forgive each other.

And apologize to your child, even if they are an infant. Atone with voice. Atone with actions. Even if they are grown. You needn't go into detail.

There is always time to bond. Oxytocin is always waiting to be released. If you didn't get the big blast, get steady, small blasts. Where there is Wisdom, there is Opportunity. Where there is Life, there is Opportunity.

Mom and dad defy the nurses and pull down their masks; and Jr sees faces for the first time. They are wonderful, and he makes his first smile.  

Gene Bray