Fatherhood

Topix came across this…rant, I supposed you’d call it, on Free Republic. The site looks to be a collection of forums and news for ‘independent, grass-roots conservatism’; I’ve no idea what that means. Anyway.

‘…here, my aim is simple: a few words to convict the hearts of cowardly men who are unwilling to help their wives, and instead, weakly lean on medications to get them through the ‘trauma’ of childbirth. Yes, guys, exclusively, are the source of the epidural problem.’

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Free Republic (GoBucks)

The battle over natural childbirth is nothing new, but I’d never heard it applied to fathers. GoBucks’s argument is that, by encouraging his wife to use pain control, a man is denying the responsibility of fatherhood. That pain medication ‘mutes’ the joy of birth, and hinders bonding between mother and child and father.

‘Eagerly sought out epidural-birth,’ says GoBucks, ‘…is a message from the Father to his family: “I don’t have what it takes for the childbirth, and chances are good that pattern will remain henceforth regarding fatherhood and husbandry.”‘

He also implies that 9/11 was a symptom of this apparent weakness. There’s a tongue-in-cheek logical fallacy called reductio ad Hitlerum, in which one invokes a comparison with Hitler and Nazis. The general rule is that the first to make such a comparison looses the argument, by default. I think the same can be said of 9/11.

I certainly can’t fault GoBuck’s assertion that fathers should be involved in the birth of their children. I wouldn’t've missed it for anything. But how does an epidural equate a father’s absence?

Ian’s birth was induced. He was large even before his due date, and my wife was born by cesarean. We wanted to give him every possible chance of going head-first. But the pitocin didn’t work, not at first. My wife was given the maximum dose, and nothing happened. Until they broke her water, the effect of which was what I imagine it feels like being thrown from a tumbling stock car.

And as my wife lay there, unable to focus her eyes and body convulsing—not even a slight exaggeration—I shouted at the nurse to find the anasteciologist. After the epidural, my wife was able to rest, and I was able to run to the cafeteria for a pastrami on rye.

Even then, the birth was anything but easy. The kid, frankly, had a big head. Still does. For a while, it seemed that we would have to have a c-section: especially when my son’s heart rate dropped. The situation improved, but my wife still needed help. Her doctor told ordered me to stand in front of my wife. She handed me one end of a sheet, my wife the other. And we pulled.

Together, my wife and I pulled and strained and kicked our son out of the house.

I just wish we could’ve bonded.