Last time I quoted Barbara Comyns' Our Spoons Came From Woolworths
I must have been in at least seven different wards and beds before the baby came. They kept me on the move all the time and the only thing I wanted was to be left alone in privacy. [...] I was taken to a nice, tiled bathroom and told to have a bath. [...] When the nurse left I made several attempts to get into the bath, but I was so doubled up I couldn't manage it, so I just took off the hateful clothes and made several wet marks on the cork mat with my hands to make it appear as if I had had a bath. The nurse came back and caught me in this deception. She said I was a dirty woman to be afraid of water, and stayed in the room while I crawled into the bath. I was getting very discouraged by this time.
The next thing I can remember is walking behind a nurse and carrying my suitcase in my hand. We came to a room or ward with two nurses in it, and some rather high beds without sheets. There were not any people in the beds. I had to climb into one, and they asked me some questions and filled in forms. Every time I went into a new room this happened. When they had finished asking questions one of the nurses shaved me. This was a bit difficult, because the pains kept coming and it was difficult to keep still. When she had finished, she put very strong disinfectant on me. This smarted a lot, but it was almost a relief to have a different sort of pain. Then they gave me an enema, the first I had ever had, and it shamed me a lot, but the next thing they did was even worse -- a large dose of castor oil which made me dreadfully sick for hours.
The next thing I can remember is walking behind a nurse and carrying my suitcase in my hand. We came to a room or ward with two nurses in it, and some rather high beds without sheets. There were not any people in the beds. I had to climb into one, and they asked me some questions and filled in forms. Every time I went into a new room this happened. When they had finished asking questions one of the nurses shaved me. This was a bit difficult, because the pains kept coming and it was difficult to keep still. When she had finished, she put very strong disinfectant on me. This smarted a lot, but it was almost a relief to have a different sort of pain. Then they gave me an enema, the first I had ever had, and it shamed me a lot, but the next thing they did was even worse -- a large dose of castor oil which made me dreadfully sick for hours.
After this I escaped from the torture chamber and was taken to a room called the labour ward. There were other women there that had not actually started their labour yet, but were expected to have difficult confinements. They were talking quite cheerfully, and it made me feel better to hear them, because all the nurses had been so grumpy and impatient with me. I had begun to think that it was a disgraceful wicked thing to do -- to have a baby.
I lay in bed for about an hour and kept shivering. The pain did not seem quite so bad now that I wasn't being disturbed all the time. Unfortunately a maid came with some tea and bread and butter on a tray. I took one look and was sick all over the bed. The nurse in charge came and looked at me disgustedly and asked why I hadn't asked for a bowl to be sick in. I was taken out of the labour ward and put in another room, all by myself. I carried my horrid case, which appeared every time I was moved, although it disappeared each time I got into bed. Two nurses came and examined me. I heard one say it would be about two hours before the baby came. Two more hours seemed an awful long time. The pains got much worse again, and I tried [saying poetry aloud] but they told me to be quiet. I longed to cry out but knew they would be angry, so bit my hands. There are still scars on them now. My hands seemed to smell of Grapenuts and I remembered a white dog we used to have when we were children and she kept having puppies all the time -- I felt very sorry for her now. They gave me a bowl to be sick in and I managed not to get any on the bed but without any warning the castor oil acted and I was completely disgraced. The nurse was so angry. She said I should set a good example and that I had disgusting habits. I just felt a great longing to die and escape but instead I walked behind the disgusted nurse, all doubled up in shame and pain.
I lay in bed for about an hour and kept shivering. The pain did not seem quite so bad now that I wasn't being disturbed all the time. Unfortunately a maid came with some tea and bread and butter on a tray. I took one look and was sick all over the bed. The nurse in charge came and looked at me disgustedly and asked why I hadn't asked for a bowl to be sick in. I was taken out of the labour ward and put in another room, all by myself. I carried my horrid case, which appeared every time I was moved, although it disappeared each time I got into bed. Two nurses came and examined me. I heard one say it would be about two hours before the baby came. Two more hours seemed an awful long time. The pains got much worse again, and I tried [saying poetry aloud] but they told me to be quiet. I longed to cry out but knew they would be angry, so bit my hands. There are still scars on them now. My hands seemed to smell of Grapenuts and I remembered a white dog we used to have when we were children and she kept having puppies all the time -- I felt very sorry for her now. They gave me a bowl to be sick in and I managed not to get any on the bed but without any warning the castor oil acted and I was completely disgraced. The nurse was so angry. She said I should set a good example and that I had disgusting habits. I just felt a great longing to die and escape but instead I walked behind the disgusted nurse, all doubled up in shame and pain.
This was almost too painful to read. Just this one story takes my breath away, and to think about the cumulative damage done to how many millions of mothers and babies around the world... When I first heard the idea of "birth rape" I was skeptical (still think the name is unfortunate), but this was certainly a violation. What a disastrous collision of medicine and misogyny, perpetrated by women to boot. Would love to know more about the context for this, it seems so bizarrely extreme otherwise.
Although come to think of it, I wouldn't lay any bets that there aren't women having exactly this experience, right now.
Posted by: Pam | February 26, 2009 at 06:21 AM
Ditto: Almost too painful to read. Got my blood pumping before my coffee was even gone! ;)
Posted by: Kate C. | February 26, 2009 at 09:31 AM
Oh, that poor woman!
Posted by: Rose | February 26, 2009 at 10:15 PM
You guys should read the book -- it's really good. In a rather depressing way. But the narrator is charming and as funny as she can be about it all.
Posted by: Stephany Aulenback | February 27, 2009 at 03:30 PM
Hi! this may be a bit old, but you should read Doris Lessing autobiography "under my skin", she does have very good chapters on having babies in there... thanks for your words!
Posted by: Mar | March 02, 2009 at 10:19 PM
Mar, the older the better. Will reserve the Lessing autobio pronto, thanks!
Posted by: Stephany Aulenback | March 03, 2009 at 12:18 PM