It is easy, when one feels passionately about something, to fall into black and white opinions. But life isn’t black and white, and the circumstances of every birth have many factors we on the outside may never see. The following article is a good foray into a more open discussion of elective cesareans.
On Culture, Cuts and a Coherent Message
By Courtroom Mama
Jill’s recent post about BaZi and planned cesareans brought up a question that has been lurking in my head for a long time. Some of the comments on Facebook showed a distaste (to put it lightly) for elective cesareans on auspicious dates.
The tenor of the conversation reminded me of a particularly difficult conversation in international women’s human rights: female genital cutting. Most of the major US-based international human rights organizations have campaigns against the practice, and we even have a cute acronym, FGM (female genital mutilation). This was all well and good until activists from the global south were like “um, hey guys, we’ve undergone the procedure and we don’t feel like we’re ‘mutilated.’ Hello, cultural hegemony!”
This, along with some interesting critiques of Western campaigns against FGC, has made me ask myself some tough questions, specifically am I inappropriately applying my values to someone else’s experience? After much reflection, it occurs to me that I have virtually no context from which to judge the practice. What entitles me to judge the “validity” of a culture or religion? I can fight against the practice being carried out on unwilling young girls in dangerously unsanitary conditions, and work toward a world in which women are valued and don’t feel “unclean” just by dint of being women, but ultimately it’s not my call to make. (and yes, it is WAY more complicated than this, but that’s a whole different blog!) It seems like the best I can hope for is education, informed consent, and harm reduction.
So, following that logic, what entitles me to judge a woman’s reason for a cesarean section, whether it be tokophobia or astrology? Astrology and numerology are central to some Eastern religions; is there a hypocrisy in supporting a woman’s right to refuse a cesarean on religious grounds but not the right to have one on those same grounds?
I recognize that, according to studies and surveys of women who have given birth, the truly elective cesarean is so scarce as to be nearly mythical in the United States. Nevertheless, I think it may be valuable for us to examine our gut reactions to the specter of elective cesarean surgery regardless of the reason. Most of the evidence that I have read indicates that the risks to a baby from cesarean surgery are approximately coequal to those of vaginal birth, and that the real difference lies in the risks to the mother (who is often invisible in the calculus of whether a cesarean is warranted in any given situation). There are legitimate concerns that putatively elective cesareans are “elected” based on scare tactics or misinformation. This is a Very Big Deal, and I don’t mean to dismiss this fact; however, the message of the birthing rights movement at large is a lot less clear in the hypothetical situation of a woman who has read the studies and nonetheless made the decision to bear the risks and have a cesarean section.
I personally know a woman who had an elective cesarean section. She delivered one child via emergency cesarean section —after a very, very long labor— for true CPD with serious fetal distress. Her surgery was conducted under general anesthesia, and the experience was traumatizing to her. Surprise, surprise, right? Rather than attempt a VBAC delivery as her OB encouraged her to do (obviously she’s not in the U.S.), she preferred to have a planned cesarean. In fact, she had to fight for ERCS. She would rather have another cut than possibly have to be put out again and miss the first hours of her baby’s life. She had serious complications with her second and third surgeries, but those babies were never in any danger and she got to spend time with them as soon as they were born. I can’t say I begrudge her that.
Sure, you say. That was a repeat. But what about a primary? I know another woman with an android pelvis and generations of family history of surgical or medically-assisted deliveries (with catastrophic injury to the pelvic floor) because of this. If I were in that situation, I might consider still trying to deliver vaginally. But I’m not. Consider this: if you were the one making the rules, how long should she have to labor before you decide that she’s officially obstructed? Who gets to make that call? If she gets to make the call to refuse, shouldn’t she get to make the call to consent as well?
If there is going to be a cohesive movement for the rights of childbearing women, we need to figure out what exactly our values are. Are we simply anti-cesarean or anti-medicine (because, as Emjaybee points out, some feminists think we are)? And what do we lose if we are? I’ve witnessed online conversations in which people go off on doctors who administer epidurals as “War Lords” (presumably meaning drug lords, pushing drugs to fetuses?) and the words “slice and dice” seem to roll off the keys a little too easily. Even though it is in the minority, when employed outside of personal stories, this type of rhetoric creates “noise” that undermines any coherent message we’re trying to convey.
At a recent birth conference, Robbie Davis-Floyd urged attendees to consider our audience. Despite Randi Hutter Epstein’s characterization of our current birth culture as an ‘era of extremism,’ the vast majority of women will fall somewhere in the middle ground between unassisted birth and elective cesarean surgery. In fact, most will want to deliver in hospitals, most will want epidurals. My sense is that, again, the best we can hope for is education, informed consent [and refusal!!!], and harm reduction. We can work toward a culture in which pregnant women are valued and their rights aren’t threatened, and we can demand evidence-based maternity care with a choice of prenatal care providers, but when it comes down to it, isn’t it the woman’s call?
If we want to reach who Dr. Davis-Floyd refers to as “the epidural woman,” we should make sure that our message is clear. To the extent that any message has even a whiff of judging the woman as opposed to the practice, or paints all of any type of practitioners with a single stroke, it will fall on deaf ears.
And if we don’t want to reach the Epidural Woman? If we choose to cast disdain on the moms on Babycenter or on those insipid TLC shows, we should get comfortable at the margins, because it’s pretty easy to get pushed aside if your message doesn’t resonate.
(P.S. In case you didn’t notice, this isn’t Jill. I’m the Courtroom Mama, and I’ll post an intro a little later on. Nice to meet ya!)