Our Impavid Heroine

The Sir David Attenborough That Lives In My Brain: Being smaller-than-average presents an added challenge to foraging ... but necessity is the mother of invention. A little creativity turns a baguette into a tool, and voilà--

(paper towel roll falls on my face)

By which I mean, asks used to be WAY more of the tumblr economy. They used to be more common to send, and receive, and see. They were integral to the collaborative, forum-like behavior of old tumblr communities, not even to speak on the HUGE number of ask-blogs that used to exist to only be interacted with in ask-form.

Ask culture died fairly suddenly because Replies were added. Threaded replies put the nail in the coffin.

happy new year -------------_--------------------

I remember talking to a psychologist: guy was like "are you absolutely sure you weren't abused as a child? I am literally a therapist, so you can tell me". when I demurred, he was like "truly? because you really really come across like you were, and I meet a lot of people with that history".

This had to happen. I had advancing diabetic retinopathy, and without the injections to dry up the blood vessels my eyes kept creating, I would have gone blind. My vision is permanently damaged, but I am not blind. I needed - and still need - those injections.

Unfortunately, the first doctor I went to had no patience for the idea that this might be traumatic and painful. He was brusque, and rude, and his way of convincing me to do it was "well, it's either this or go blind." It was terrible. I hated it. I considered whether it was worth stopping and just letting my eyes deteriorate.

It wasn't until I went to a different retinal specialist that I even learned there were smaller clamps they could use, which hurt much less! There were other methods of numbing, so I didn't feel the needle! The staff there was patient with my fear and pain. They worked with me to successfully make the process much more tolerable. They encouraged me to get a situational anti-anxiety (Xanax) prescription from my PCP, and even offered to write one for me if I couldn't!

And unlike the first doctor, they didn't require me to: sign a consent form for the procedure, then take the pill, then wait half an hour for it to kick in, before finally starting the procedure - and if I had to take medication to survive the appointment, I needed to go through this process every single time.

I can't say that everything that could possibly go wrong with a pregnancy went wrong with mine. (I miraculously did not develop gestational diabetes, for example, nor did I have pre-eclampsia.) But a whole lot did. A whole fucking lot.

I was in constant agony. I was stuck in the hospital in a country whose language I did not yet speak; at that time the internet was not something that was easily accessed by phone and I spent my days in bed - at first I couldn't walk without pain and then I couldn't walk at all - without anyone to talk to aside from the few nurses who spoke English. Some of the hospital staff were homophobic and gave my wife a hard time about visiting me since they kept insisting that only "family" could visit (I only found out about this years later, my wife kept it from me at the time). I knew no one else in the country and my friends and family were all overseas and phone calls were prohibitively expensive (this was pre-Skype).

I had to have an MRI at 35 weeks which was awful - I couldn't get comfortable in the machine and the way I had to lie down meant my hip locked up and I was in agony - and terrifying, especially as I am claustrophobic. I actually passed out inside the machine and so they had to restart the process, while I was admonished not to pass out again, as if I had some sort of control over that. (The MRI was to confirm what they had seen on ultrasound, which was that my son was head down, ready to come out, but that his twin sister was lodged horizontally under my ribcage, with her umbilical cord wrapped twice around her neck, which was ABSOLUTELY a concern. A very dangerous, serious concern.)

Due to my daughter's positioning and the very real danger it posed I had a planned caesarean section a week later and due to the vertical cut they had to make to ensure her safety there was nerve damage as well as scar tissue that still causes me very painful issues 20+ years later.

And we're not even getting into my Autism (then undiagnosed) and how having Sensory Processing Disorder meant that all of the changes happening to my body had my adrenaline and cortisol levels off the fucking chart. I developed high blood pressure within a year of my children being born and it was there to stay.

But I was told to suck it up. I was reminded, at every turn, that my twins, born at 36 weeks, were healthy. Which they were! For which I was and still remain incredibly grateful! But even my mother, an ob/gyn nurse who came to stay with us for a few weeks after the twins were born, scolded me and told me that I should focus on the fact that the children were fine instead of "wallowing in your usual self-pity". (Her direct words.)

I have absolutely zero regrets with regards to having my children. Absolutely none. I love them, and I am so glad I have them. I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant that was the only way I could have them in my life again.

That still doesn't change the fact that it was a devastating experience, with CPTSD that I carried for years and years until I finally went to therapy after my wife died. (My therapist, who was the kindest, gentlest woman in the world, asked me about my pregnancy one session and I burst into wrenching sobs, which I couldn't stop, and she came and sat next to me and said, "Oh, I see. We'll need to talk about this.")

Everything that was done to me was medically necessary; I wholly and completely understand why things were done the way they were, or at least from a medical standpoint. (The behaviors and attitudes from some of the medical personnel did not get a pass as being medically necessary, and yes, my wife and I filed a formal complaint, which led to mandatory LGBT+ sensitivity training for the entire hospital, which was a win, for sure.)

Still gave me CPTSD though. Still did. And although I can no longer ask her, I am as sure as I can be that my late wife also suffered from PTSD from watching me go through what I went through. (Do I think that the non-pregnant parent can get PTSD from experiencing their partner's pregnancy and childbirth? Oh, I am 100% sure of it, just as I am sure that partner PTSD sure as fuck isn't being acknowleged either.)

Do most pregnant people go through what I did? They do not. (My own mother breezed through both of her pregnancies with zero physical complications either pre- or post-partum.) That doesn't mean that even the kindest, gentlest pregnancy cannot cause trauma. Childbirth's a pretty traumatic experience, regardless of what's going on.

But we're routinely told to forget about whatever we've experienced, to ignore what we are feeling - physically, emotionally, mentally - to focus on the baby instead. We are told to smash our trauma down, to dismiss our pain, to be grateful grateful GRATEFUL for the baby.

Just because something is medically necessary does not mean it cannot cause deep, deep trauma. Just because the end result turns out well does not mean it has not caused deep, deep trauma on the way.