When reading the 10,000-character birthing story, I often marvel at the precise expression she wrote, but I also know that these feelings all come from the difficult life experiences.
In this story, we can see the various difficulties faced by an ordinary woman in childbirth: cumbersome procedures for childbirth, the impact of childbirth on work, very common but rarely mentioned spontaneous abortion, and not popular enough Although she is considered a considerate partner, she still can’t really understand the pain and cost of childbirth because of her knowledge of contraception, the loneliness of experiencing pregnancy reactions and birth risks alone.
Fertility is a secret shared by women who have experienced it. Although everyone’s experience is different, when one person tells it, the other person will understand that language. I am very grateful to Yimao for being willing to show his fragility, pain and struggle, and willing to use his experience to help and accompany more women.
I was standing by the bed in the quiet B-ultrasound room. The sonographer signed the B-ultrasound sheet with his back to me and handed it to me. I took it subconsciously, and involuntarily repeated what she said to me in my head and mouth: “There is no fetal heart…”
“Doctor, what does it mean to have no fetal heart?”
“I just don’t have a fetal heart. There should be an operation. Go to your doctor, the next one.”
I took the light and fluttering paper, and hurriedly moved my body to the corridor crowded with people before the footsteps of my thoughts, where the men were waiting. I saw my husband in the gap between the men, and he saw me. He squeezed forward to fish me over, watched my look dull and flustered, paused for a while, and asked softly, “How is it?”
I looked at his chest nearest to me, the light blue shirt, the light white transparent button, and there was a trace of dirt next to the button, and I waved the B-single in my hand weakly, tears and words came out weakly at the same time. : “The child is gone.” Then he threw into his chest like a flat tire and cried.
That was my first pregnancy. The embryo that was discontinued had a name—”four millimeters”, which was the size when it was first discovered. I like to make a nickname for the future child. Until now, whenever I think of this name, my heart is still sour.
From then on, I never gave names to embryos less than three months old.
Before my first pregnancy, I never checked gynecology during the physical examination. For nearly 30 years, apart from the monthly menstrual period reminding me of the existence of the uterus, I respected it as a guest and hardly ever asked about it.
My husband and I are the same age, we met when we were nearly 30 years old, first love, first night, how do you describe us? My husband said that in his home village, a single man as old as him is an old monster, then if I were at their home, I would be super Invincible old monster. The two old monsters of us have some understanding of gender knowledge, but from the beginning to the actual combat stage, we are in a state of exploring and discussing together, learning and making progress together. After cohabiting, we basically used half of the condom and half of the contraception by extracorporeal ejaculation, but because we are novice drivers, we are not accustomed to using condoms.
Occasionally I ask him, “You can’t get pregnant, right?”
“No, rest assured.” He seemed confident in his self-control.
Finally, naturally, I became pregnant.
Accompanied by a series of weird and nauseous symptoms, I used the pregnancy test stick and saw the second bar gradually appear with my own eyes. I squeezed the two bars in annoyance and anxiety, opened the door, and yelled in a low voice but deterrently at the man who was playing on the computer on the bed, “I’m pregnant!” Then he jumped on the bed happily stand up.
Inside the messy rental house, with yellow lights, I stood at the door and looked at it. I felt like I had entered a clichéd TV drama plot. Most of my heart was nervous, with some comfort, and a faint excitement about the new chapter of life. . At that time, I was in a period of sweetness and hesitation in the face of true feelings for the first time. The arrival of this child helped me make up my mind and set out to build a family.
When I was a girl, I jokingly said to my mother: “I don’t need to get married in the future, but I must have children.” I decided early on that I wanted to be a mother.
I found out that the pregnancy was in 2014. When I started consulting on how to conduct a maternity check-up, I learned that single women cannot legally give birth to a child. The “birth permit” and many subsequent procedures require the presence of a spouse. Although I have put “marriage” on the agenda, for the first time this cold knowledge made me discover the shadow behind “independent women”.
So I started the process of “legalization”: getting a marriage certificate, getting a birth permit, moving, and setting up hospital files. My husband had just entered a new job at that time, so it was not convenient to ask for leave, and because I had a collective account, I had to go through additional procedures such as loaning out the account. During that time, I needed to take a half-day vacation from time to time. I repeated various exchanges in the talent center, police station, street, community hospital where the talent center is located, and the hospital where the file was established, submitting personal information and collecting corresponding information, and interspersed with finding a new house. Renting. During the process, I was unwell and even fainted several times. After several investigations, I found that one of the symptoms of my pregnancy was that I could not take the subway. I would faint if I took a few more stops, so that it turned out that I was able to discover myself very early. One of the reliable indicators of pregnancy.
In short, the uncomfortable journey plus the cumbersome process add up to the psychological burden of asking for leave from time to time, and maybe hormone disorder. My mood is very easy to get anxious, and I had a fight with the nurse when I set up the file. I didn’t want to miss a few. Minutes and the pregnant women’s school one week after the appointment change, that would make me need to re-apply for leave and postpone the establishment of files for a week. That was the first year after the implementation of the two-child policy, and the hospital filed a flood of pregnant women.
Finally, all these tiresome procedures came to an end. I was drawn 10 tubes of blood, successfully set up a file in the hospital, and finally became a legal and legal pregnant woman.
Just when I woven the embryonic form of a nest from left to right, and waited for delivery in peace, an unexpected situation appeared. One day at noon in the second week of filing, I found blood on my underwear. I went back to Baidu for a while. It didn’t seem to be serious. It was one of the common symptoms in the early stage. And I think I just finished so many inspections, it should be no problem. I went to see it again after an hour. There was a little more blood. I wandered to the seat of a colleague who had just taken maternity leave and asked humbly: “I am bleeding a little, is it normal?” The colleague was shocked and suggested Say you should go to the hospital. In this way, I was a little nervous, called my husband, and asked for leave to meet at the hospital.
Then there is the beginning scene. I never thought that this bleeding was not a “common” sign of pregnancy, but a sign of the end. It did not give us any cushion and the child was gone . The B-ultrasound showed that the actual development of the embryo at 11 weeks was 8 weeks in size, and the fetal heart rate had disappeared.
There was another thing that made me tremble. The doctor said, “You go to the hospital to prepare for the operation.” He gave me a hospitalization slip.
I was in pain and afraid at the same time. I have never undergone any invasive examination or surgery. The first scene I think of when I hear the operation is the bloody and terrifying scene. With tears on my face, I looked up at my husband: “I don’t want to be hospitalized now, I want to go home. OK?”
“Okay, let’s go home and lie down first, and come over to be hospitalized tomorrow.” My husband hugged me pityingly and returned home, the new house we rented to take care of the children.
That night, my stomach hurts, but the physical pain is not unbearable under the background of heartache. I curled up on the bed in silent mourning for my lost baby. The pain seemed to make me still connected with it. My husband hugged me from behind and put his hands on my stomach, and almost stayed up all night. In the later stage of the pain, I slowly realized that my uterus has realized the inanimate embryo, and this bout of pain is the process of expelling the embryo during the contraction. Fortunately, there were no accidents such as heavy bleeding during this process.
The next morning, my husband and I, who were pale, went to the hospital and underwent surgery. The identity of my mother passed me by and turned back into a vague future.
After I had just had a miscarriage and recovered from my grief, there is only one thing I want to know the most, why?
Is it because I didn’t control my emotions and lost my temper? Is it because I face the computer every day without shielding the radiation? Was it because I didn’t adjust the lack of oxygen in time after I nearly fainted on the subway several times? Is it because I did not pay attention to the impact of the move? The first inspection found that the progesterone value is low, should I get a fetal injection? If I ask for a B-ultrasound when I create the file, can I find the intervention in time? So, did I delay the file creation time?
In the inpatient department of the hospital, I asked the doctor this question immediately after the operation. The resident doctor is a patient young female doctor. She should have answered similar questions many times. She honestly said that she didn’t know, and there was no way to know the cause. There is a certain chance of spontaneous miscarriage if it is the first miscarriage. It doesn’t explain much.
I accept this fact, but still continue to search for various related articles: What is the probability of spontaneous abortion? What are the factors related to embryo abortion? How does the first miscarriage affect subsequent pregnancies? I looked through the thick stack of inspection documents that were filed, and wondered why there was no fetal heart rate after only a week? What indicators may reveal clues? Did I do something wrong?
After reading a lot of articles from many angles, I kneaded the complex data without any personal reference. I can only sum up my own explanation from the angle that I can understand: this is the first pregnancy, maybe I and My womb is not ready to be “parasiticed” by another life.
At the same time, I was surprised to find that many women around me took the initiative to share their miscarriage history with me in order to comfort me. They had colleagues, classmates, and relatives of elders. In normal days, I have no chance to detect and be told of these past events. They are like reefs on the beach, covered by fine grains of sand.
Supporting my explanations and the warm comfort I was shared, I quickly recovered after half a month and turned my attention to the weddings and daily work in the two places. In our new home, my husband and I adopted a pup and we worked tirelessly to take care of it from the full moon size. My husband laughed and called “practicing hands.”
Days passed, and the other two-bedroom room we rented was always vacant. It was used from time to time to train the puppies to run, entertain friends temporarily, build large toys… After the body recovered, we did not deliberately contraceptive, but there has been no new situation. For more than a year, sometimes I would think of the description of my “posterior uterus” in the previous pregnancy test, and mentioned to my husband: “It seems that it is not easy for me to get pregnant.”
“It’s okay, let the flow go.”
Until one day, when I was on the subway, I experienced a familiar feeling of hypoxia.
We were all nervous about the second pregnancy. In order to accompany me more conveniently, my husband quit the job that did not allow him to take leave, and took care of my dog and me at home. Every time he needed a pregnancy check, he would get up early and go to the hospital to line up to get the number, and then go home and take me to the nearest time. I remember that in the winter morning, when the sky was not too bright, he walked into the house from the outside in wind and frost, and when he cooked breakfast next to my face, he could feel the cold air on the tip of his nose.
Each inspection is like an upgrade of monsters. Each stage has data that should meet the standards at each stage. Before each inspection result comes out, it means an unknown risk. If you pass one, you are fortunate and ready for the next monsters. Most of the men waiting in the hallway looked blank, but there was a certain patience and patience on their faces. Mothers-to-be with big and small stomachs carry a thick book of materials, which contains various inspection documents, checklists, leaflets, and notes. Mother bird collects feathers and cotton, and we collect all kinds of reassuring results.
On the day of childbirth, every mother will have her own version of the story about that day. It is a story of a woman turning into a warrior, and a story of a human being degenerated into an animal. The calmness, courage and wisdom of many years of training, women’s instinctive fear, agility, and the desire to protect children have all been urgently deployed to the unpredictable battlefield of life and death, and everyone’s victory cannot be fully replicated. My battlefield victory report probably states that in the 21st hour after the water broke, I gave birth to a fat son of 7.2 kg with no tears and no side cuts, and even received praise from the midwife. At the same time, in the doctor’s medical record, my 24-hour urine retention result was still unqualified, and the urine protein kept increasing, and “pre-eclampsia” was clearly visible. I stayed in the delivery room for a whole day, and in the intermittent sleep of the next few days, my ears were still filled with the heavy breathing and screams of pregnant women, the beeping of the fetal heart rate monitor and the comfort of the doctors. Urging or even reprimanding.
Outside the delivery room, my husband and mother waited for 14 hours without any news. They could only rely on the food delivered in to speculate that I did not have a major crisis. Every time the nurse pushes the bed out of the delivery area, she can see my husband standing outside, sitting upright with a face like a door god, as if he will rush in when he hears the alarm in the next second.
I finally became the “hero’s mother”. From then on, in my eyes, every mother has a medal on her body. As long as the two strange women exchanged the code of having a child, their identities will be renewed as comrades-in-arms.
When I finished production, I was the only one left in the entire production area, and the battlefield that had been fighting for a day was calm. I was exhausted physically and mentally, as if I had just escaped from a storm, with only my remaining body lying quietly waiting to be reconverted. The psychological activity was about: “It’s finally over…” “I’m too awesome…” And, “Never give birth again…”
In the corner of the line of sight, the red fluttering tender meat that had just come out was placed on a table with a yellow heat-preserving lamp. The little guy cried a few times at first and then stopped. The midwife was busy doing a series of wipes and measurements, and then suddenly he held something and walked to the delivery bed: “Look, boy, this is the first skin contact.” Suddenly, I only saw a pink circle when I was highly nearsighted. The ass hit, and then one butt was stuck to my face, a touch of warmth and matte. Just when I turned my head and wanted to see the baby’s face, before I opened my mouth, the midwife took him away quickly, wrapped it quickly on the stroller, and started to treat my wounds. I looked at that little stroller, and there was a little baby who belonged to me peacefully sleeping on it, with a sense of illusion and unreality.
After I was cleaned up, I was pushed to the corridor and watched for two hours. The nurse at the end of the corridor shouted my name in order to record a statement: “XX, you are a boy or girl?” “Boy!” I shouted with all my strength. The corridor was quiet again. I smiled and said to myself: “I said it was a boy.”
Guessing the sex of a fetus has always been a popular activity among the masses. According to some clues that have no scientific basis, 99% of the guessers, including myself, guess it is a boy, except for my baby’s father. He has always been determined and insisted: “It must be a girl! Wait for me to pigtail her.” Her husband has a younger brother. Almost all of his cousins in the same generation are brothers. He who is tired of the “south boy” dreams of having one. A warm little girl.
Although the wish was unfulfilled, it did not affect her husband’s meticulous care of his son. On the first night after giving birth, the son slept on his father’s body. The two men had their chests pressed against their chests. The little one put a small hand on one side, and the other small hand index finger hooked her husband’s hurdle vest. After his son’s first bowel movement, his first change of clothes, his first medication, and his first bath after returning home, he didn’t worry about us. He carefully completed the first attempt by himself. Later I asked him if he would feel sorry for not having a girl. He said that there is no way but to raise you as a girl.
My husband and I were married in the true sense of nakedness. There was no financial foundation. In addition to the long labor and pre-eclampsia after the water was broken when we gave birth to our son, the family was quite frightened, so we did not think about it after the birth of our son. Have children again. Although the second-child policy has been fully liberalized, we all feel that it is the choice of a few people, and our family does not have this determination and preparation.
My son looks like me, especially his eyes. The little bear’s eyes, which are drooping, smiled and stitched into a line. After my husband fell asleep at night, I silently looked at him, wondering if I would inherit his thick eyebrows and big eyes if I were a girl.
Perhaps because of these little thoughts, I remember that one night when my son was more than two years old, I took him and the dog to the next yard for a walk after dinner. As I was talking with my son while walking, I remembered that at the same time when the water broke, I was walking my dog in the same yard. Unexpectedly, I was carried into an ambulance in just two hours. I went to the hospital to give birth, and within two hours that night, 7 or 8 pregnant women who had broken water were sent to give birth. Thinking of this, the son just raised his head and pointed at the sky: “Mom! The moon!”
My heart moved. I remembered that that day was also the night when the well-documented “Super Moon” appeared. I impulsively picked up my son’s words: “What a bright moon. Baby, you like the moon so much. There is a little sister, let’s call her Little Moon, OK?” “Haha, okay, Little Moon!” The son was bounced and looked happy. Anyway, the child can’t remember anything, and it’s not easy to say it.
In the spring when my son turned three years old, our family started several projects at once: We bought a small house, and designed and decorated it strictly according to the living needs of the family. At the same time, I changed my job and left. After working for the former company for many years, my husband’s job has stabilized and improved. Buying a house, decorating, changing jobs, moving house, every day is full of dangdang things to consider, discuss and make decisions. My husband and I fought back-to-back, quarreling and working together.
But when I was about to go to a new job, unfortunately, I was pregnant again.
At that time, because we were busy decorating, we asked grandma to take our son back home to play for a while. After confirming the pregnancy, I thought of the offer I just received, the new house that was not closed, and the son who had no time to accompany me. I was upset before I had time, so I discussed with my husband and went to the hospital to arrange an operation quickly while others were not at home. Because it was discovered very early and the operation was rapid, I was discharged from the hospital on the same day, as if nothing happened.
A few days later, I told my husband that I thought it was a girl. My husband just smiled and said that I already have a big girl. I recalled the day when we two took the subway together. A grandmother and her granddaughter came up to a certain station. The little girl sat beside me with two delicate pigtails, her bright black eyes staring at me with a smile.
“Unfortunately…” I said to myself.
After moving from the bustling city center to the suburbs, the commuting distance between my husband and I has increased from half an hour to more than one hour. One day, I started to feel bored for some time. This feeling became more and more obvious and more familiar.
“Husband, I won’t be pregnant again, am I?” In the crowded crowd, my husband and I were walking out of the subway station holding hands. I hesitated to raise this question, holding hands tightly. “No, we are paying attention.” Seeing my serious and desperate expression, my husband thought it was not too wonderful.
I frowned deeply. It should be recalled that there were a number of irregular operations in the middle, and the husband showed a trace of panic: “But, we have paid attention to it, where is it so easy to get pregnant?”
I didn’t say anything.
After giving birth to my son, I paid more attention to contraception. I showed my husband the failure rate of various contraceptive measures. I also know that in practice, it is difficult to avoid accidental wiping. So once when we were in a good mood, I pretended to ask casually: “Or do you do the ligation?”
“Don’t!” My husband’s face changed when he heard this word. I expected that this should be the first reaction to hearing this word, but it was not on a whim. Before I knew about the risks associated with multiple contraceptive measures and ligation, I made this proposal. Later, I started the safety of Amway’s male ligation again, as if he had put on a soundproof cover, as if he were not talking about it. I wanted to wait a little longer and talk about it slowly later.
Before entering the community that day, we went to the next pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test stick. I put it in the bathroom, and then fell asleep early. It was safe in my sleep.
The next morning was Saturday, and early in the morning, we faced the pregnancy test stick and looked at each other-“What to do?” At that time, it was only a few months since my last pregnancy. Since the renovation was completed and I just moved, my grandma was worried. With formaldehyde remaining, he took his son back to his hometown.
“I’m sorry, wife.” My husband apologized to me guiltily. I don’t remember how I responded at that time, whether I complained or criticized. I was just hit by a lot of thoughts at once, and my mind was very confused. Just moved to a new home, long commutes every day, work that has just passed the probation period, bosses and work content that are still running in, parents who have just become less stressed with their babies, and the last miscarriage…
I asked my husband: “Do you want it?”
“I can, but you will suffer if you have a baby. Your health is not that good. I can’t quit my job to take care of you like when I was pregnant with a son. I agree if you want it or not.”
“The newly renovated house is not good for the fetus.”
“It doesn’t matter. We measured formaldehyde, isn’t the value not high?”
“Not long after I joined the company, I can’t tell the boss, do people think I planned it?”
“Just talk about it, if you really can’t accept it, let’s not do it.”
“How do you tell my mom?”
“Well, you can’t tell me.”
We are hesitating, we persuade each other with all kinds of concerns. While I was frightened by the things that the baby was about to consider and the pressure of communication, I instinctively and surely believed that this was a daughter, and that the daughter I had sent away came back to me again. We refused her without hesitation not long ago. Does she still want to come to our house? I looked around the new home that was just built. We did our best to plan our own space for the current three generations during the renovation, without thinking about the arrival of another baby. But counting the days, when this baby was born, I was about to celebrate my 35th birthday. If I give up now, I will also give up the last chance to give birth before becoming an advanced mother.
Finally, I proposed: “Ask my son?” We looked at each other and dialed the video call to our mother.
“Mom!” My son and mom quickly appeared on the screen. I said hello to my son, and then was speechless. When the husband saw this, he leaned forward: “Baby, do you want a little brother or a little sister? Mother has a little baby in her belly again.” I stared at my son’s chubby face, and he asked milkily. His dad: “Dad, you say, there is a baby in my mother’s belly?”
“Yes, it’s a little brother or little sister, do you want it? My mother and I want to ask you.” The husband repeated it again. The son closed his mouth for a long time and did not open it. My mother called me behind him and asked: “Are you pregnant again?” “Yeah,” I said. Then my mother didn’t ask any more questions.
I can’t see what they’re thinking. I can only look at my son and say softly: “Baby, do you remember one time when we walked and talked outside at night, the moon was very bright in the sky, then you said if there was a little sister It’s called Little Moon, do you remember?”
“Then do you want to have a younger sister? If it’s a younger sister, use the name you gave her as Little Moon?”
My son looked at me, thought about it again, and nodded: “Yeah!” At this moment, I saw my mother red eyes behind, turned his face quickly, and wiped away the tears with his hand. My throat tightened too, but I tried to stabilize my voice and said to my son: “Then we will leave this little sister or little brother, OK?”
Later, my husband continued to chat with his son for a while, formally talked to my mother, and hung up the phone. I was out of the camera, and what lingered in my mind was the sudden tears of my mother.
When I had just given birth to my son, the newborn baby and the sudden change of living environment caused my habitually anxious and hygienic mother to suddenly experience symptoms such as tinnitus and insomnia, and was diagnosed as sudden deafness. I took her to the hospital. The doctor asked about the birth history according to a fixed procedure. My mother hesitated and reported gently: “One childbirth and one abortion.” I realized that after giving birth to me, my mother still had an active abortion. history. I remember when I was a child, my grandmother once mentioned that my mother did not want to have another boy. When my mother was joking, I also mentioned to others. When I was young, I asked if I wanted a younger brother and sister, and I said I wanted a brother. Miscarriage is probably due to this reason.
I didn’t ask my mother later, what was the mood at the time that made her cry. But after experiencing two active and passive miscarriages, I think that for any woman, every time she is selected and rejected by a life, she has to bear huge moral pressure and social pressure. I made the decision to give birth again in my heart, and at the same time I admire my mother’s courage to refuse to give birth again under pressure.
The pregnancy process was more difficult this time. I am a few years older, and the lack of physical exercise after taking the boss makes me weaker, coupled with the extended commuting distance, it makes me feel patient from time to time. I can’t take the subway. I go out to take the business shuttle bus every day before dawn. I wash and eat after I get to the empty company, from summer to winter. At the same time, the relationship between me and the new company boss continued to deteriorate for many reasons. I try to restrain my hot temper, try to ignore sentences that may bring negative emotions, face every day with a grateful mood, and welcome the arrival of Little Treasure.
In the 22nd week, we confirmed in advance that Xiao Bao was indeed a younger sister. I was grateful, and my husband happily called home and asked my mother to stew her elbow. After that, everyone would congratulate me and say that it became the word “good”. Although it is clichéd and doesn’t sound “politically correct” enough, I also realized with hindsight that as a mother as a son and as a mother as a daughter Different moods.
After Little Moon was born, my mother-in-law came to take care of her. Once I somehow mentioned that, if I don’t have the energy to take care of my son and daughter’s children, I will definitely give priority to my daughter and help her take care of the children. This is a woman’s support for women. My mother-in-law loves her little granddaughter very much, but she does not understand this idea very much, thinking that I am confused and have gotten the order wrong. “Son’s children are’my family members’, and daughters’ children are’people of other surnames.’ Of course, we must put’my family members’ first.”
I did not refute. Maybe this is the difference between a mother with a daughter and a mother without a daughter, I thought.
When I decided to keep my second child, I made a formal offer to my husband, and he took the initiative to ligate after giving birth to the second child. Although making this request at that point in time seems to be taking advantage of the fire, but on this topic, I will often popularize science and influence from time to time, and my husband has become less resistant. It’s half stress and half apology, my husband agreed.
Unexpectedly, when Little Moon was born, the epidemic would begin. This birth was very different from the last one. In the past, there were more workers in protective clothing than patients at the bustling hospital entrance. Each pregnant woman can only have one family member enter the hospital to accompany her, and there are only a few pregnant women in the delivery ward. After entering the delivery room, I learned the lesson of the long wait last time and hired a Doula for myself (almost a personal care worker, able to accompany until the end of production) , so that I can pass on information to my husband at any time, and also bring it to me. Come an illusory sense of security of “someone around”.
Unexpectedly, after applying oxytocin soon, I quickly started regular contractions and entered the delivery room without pain for more than an hour. After a few years, I was still impressed by the tragic process of the last time. I did all the mental construction of desperate life, and ended the battle with only one effort.
“It’s finished?” I heard the doctor say it. I couldn’t believe I finally relaxed after confirming it twice, looking stupidly like a dazed old hen.
Not surprisingly, the young female doctor began to clean up. “Wow, come and see, this baby has a knot!” Suddenly she called another doctor to see something, and I pricked my ears.
“This knot is so big, it’s a real knot!” The people who came to observe also exclaimed.
“Doctor, is it around the neck?”
“Not around the neck, the umbilical cord has a big knot.”
“Is it so big, how did it get the knot?” When one of the female doctors took a photo with his mobile phone, my curiosity also aroused.
“It’s the same as a Chinese knot. I don’t know how to make it like this.” The doctor saw me looking at her mobile phone and stopped my further attempts to participate. The mobile phone carrying a picture of my girl’s umbilical cord inside was gone.
Afterwards, my own Baidu broke out in a cold sweat. The true knot of the umbilical cord is difficult to find before delivery. However, once the true knot is tightened, it will affect the blood circulation of the fetus and cause the fetus to die in the uterus. A friend of mine was about to give birth at 36 weeks of pregnancy. The fetus was stillborn because of an unexplained twist of the umbilical cord. The whole family was in grief. I looked back at the sleeping little moon with fear. She was born more than a catty lighter than her brother. She was thin but looked equally ruddy and healthy. She looked like a smile when she fell asleep, and the little baby had a strong vitality. . I have to thank God for blessing again. Life is too strong and too fragile. With each birth, I gradually changed from a firm atheist to a fatalist.
My husband, as always, is a doctor-phobic who can not go to the hospital without going to the hospital. After giving birth, I wanted to strike while the iron was hot to urge him to fulfill his promise. He also took the initiative to consult with three tertiary hospitals. Two of them advised him not to perform male ligation easily during the telephone consultation. The more neutral one told him that it was not necessary due to the epidemic. It’s difficult to make appointments for surgery in the back, and cumbersome steps such as nucleic acid detection in advance after the open surgery. The time, the place and the people are in harmony. Apart from being mentioned from time to time by me, the plan to fulfill the promise was successfully postponed.
Until more than a year later, my fifth pregnancy.
The last pregnancy may be the most direct motivation that made me want to write about these experiences. This experience made me feel more deeply about the helplessness and loneliness of women in fertility. Repeated accidental pregnancy, my husband and I cannot escape responsibility. When we actively or passively adopt contraceptive measures with a limited probability of safety, we become a gambler at the table, but I will pay for it.
After the third unintended pregnancy and miscarriage, I was already thinking about female ligation or taking contraceptives, and I learned about male ligation for the first time when I was learning about common contraceptive methods. I compared various options, whether it is a rational analysis of the risks of various options, or the perceptual belief that I bear the pain of childbirth and men should bear the responsibility of contraception, I think that male ligation is a “reasonable” option. They also communicated with all kinds of coercion and inducement, and reached a superficial agreement.
After Little Moon was born, her father took the initiative to contact the hospital to arrange the operation. When I heard about this arrangement, I was still a little surprised, grateful and proud-not all husbands can accept the male ligation plan. Compared with my happiness, my husband may have experienced “sacrifice”. He told me to keep quiet after the operation, especially to both parents. If things go well, my nurturing story will end there, and almost all previous experiences and feelings will be added with a “perfect” filter, I am very satisfied.
So I feel more sad when I am disillusioned.
The epidemic situation and the communication with doctors hindered the advancement of the plan, but my uterus didn’t know it. As an organ that was beaten into the cold palace by the master’s mind, it is still firmly advancing every possibility of pregnancy. Perhaps it was the birth of a new life that made it even more exciting. After we consciously strengthened security, I still haven’t escaped a negligence.
When no longer yearning for a new life, all the symptoms that accompany pregnancy seem so meaningless and unbearable. I hate my body, I don’t want to be a “parasitic” “maternal” again, I want to end this endless thing as soon as possible! But when this kind of thought appears, I will be very heartbroken as a mother, and my life is no different. I made a mistake myself, but it made another life that rushed to me become a “mistake.” I feel very torn, an angry self and a sad mother, I have no choice.
If possible, I hope this “fault” will end in hiding like the third choice of abortion, but everything becomes cumbersome and lengthy under the epidemic. Before making an appointment for the hospitalization, both my husband and I must make an appointment and get the nucleic acid test of this hospital. At the same time, I complete the blood test and get the results, and then we can lock the operation date and complete the hospitalization procedures one day in advance.
Every day I waited is like a year. The familiar reaction to early pregnancy made me bored physically and psychologically. At the same time, I had to face another angry and sad mother, my mother.
Frequent going out early and returning late and occasional uncomfortable reaction that can’t hide, my mother, who has always been observant of Qiuhao, felt abnormal. When my husband was forced to confess to her, she seemed to have guessed most of it, and angrily replied to her husband. , But no episodes. When I went to the kitchen to be alone with her, she saddened me and my husband and asked me why I didn’t know how to refuse and why I was not responsible for my body.
I seem to have returned to the long-lost pre-adult years, facing my mother’s reproach, and remained weakly silent.
When her anger began to subside and she began to inquire about the details of my hospitalization, a heavy stone fell to the ground, and I needed to face and deal with my anger. On the day of admission, I waited quietly from the morning, and the husband who took personal leave had been making endless calls. He seemed to encounter unexpected work situations, but every call seemed so harsh. I waited until the time of departure was approaching, and packed my backpack by myself. When the reserved car arrived at the door, I put on my shoes and shouted angrily at the person who was still on the phone, “There’s more to be done?!” I got up and walked away. Husband finally hung up the phone and followed behind him in silence.
When I went to the hospital to go through the procedures, I seemed to be calm and relaxed again. When the doctor asked me to sign the precautions, I also told my husband that nail polish should not be applied to his nails for the convenience of measuring blood oxygen at any time. After listening to the doctor, the comment is expert. But after the procedures were completed, we silently faced the hospital bed area sitting in the corridor. I rejected all the man’s attempts to comfort me. Finally I raised my head and said: “You go, you are meaningless here, everything. I cleaned up the materials, I cleaned up the materials, you will only make me angry here.”
The tone of gun and stick successfully angered him, and he left angrily. I was sitting on the hospital bed with headphones on and flipping through the book without looking up.
A lot of birth control promotional pictures were posted on the walls of the hospital. For a moment, I was wondering whether or not to put the birth control ring together with the operation, but this idea was quickly rejected by myself. Based on what I know about myself, if I let myself do a little more, our relationship will be in jeopardy. The balance in my heart is already out of balance. Why is my anger the only one who needs to bear this, why anger can’t control my own body, why anger can’t replace my partner to experience all this, from pregnancy to childbirth to breastfeeding, all He couldn’t empathize with everything, nor would he be as frightened as I was. This is not fair. Why must women take contraceptive measures? Are we not paying enough?
The next day when the doctor took me into the operating room, in that green room full of blood and disinfectant smell, I saw a woman lying on another operating chair waiting to be awakened after the operation. I was very thankful for myself. He is highly myopic without glasses. But when I lowered my head to climb onto the adjacent operating chair, I still vaguely saw the stainless steel basin placed on the ground and the dazzling blood. At that moment, I almost wanted to escape with the infusion stand. The utter loneliness made me tremble.
“Anesthesia is really a great invention.” As I walked out of the operating room after being awakened, I gently said to the female doctor who carefully helped me. When I lost my armor and ran away, it was anesthesia that covered me with boundless darkness.
We went home at noon that same day. When I entered the house, my mother kept staring at me and saw that I began to greet my daughter with a calm expression. She couldn’t help asking, “How about it, isn’t it uncomfortable?” I easily explained. It is painless and feels nothing. After the operation, there is no pregnancy response, but it feels comfortable. “That’s good, that’s good, it’s all painless now, I was at that time…” My mother showed a comforting expression, wanted to continue talking but stopped talking and went to the kitchen to make soup.
A few months later, I went to the Lama Temple and silently mourned the child in my heart. Later, I did not take the initiative to bring up the topic of ligation surgery.
Once when I was angry that my husband had not fulfilled his promise, he asked me directly: “Why do I have to do this? Why do you not want to ligate yourself, but I have to go, why I have no choice. Use other methods? Do you think this is fair?”
I struggled with this sentence many times in the dead of night, like ruminating an indigestible stone. To some extent, I realized that I had too high expectations for mutual understanding between my partners and between the sexes. It took me a long time to accept this incident, reminding myself that everyone has their own choices. Life is going to go on, I don’t want to push him away, I even need him more than before. He is still the most trusted teammate of my own choice.
It’s just reality that tells me that nurturing teammates who are walking with you on this road is probably like a Doula who accompanies production. It is you who really have to go forward to face the risks and bear the risks.
Posted by:CoinYuppie，Reprinted with attribution to:https://coinyuppie.com/i-was-pregnant-five-times-and-i-never-mentioned-ligation-to-my-husband-again/
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