The distinctive beats of this David Bowie/Queen song have been running through my mind off and on for many months now. I don’t think about it very often, but every now and again I feel the pressure of being an advocate for birth who’s going to give birth soon. This is new for me, as I don’t recall having the same sense when pregnant with my other ones. Maybe it’s because I’m more vocal and active than I used to be, or because I have a “title” now, or because I possess a certain amount of narcissism (which I commonly refer to as the world revolves around me)…who knows. In any case, the pressure has been there. I want to make clear, though, that it’s internal pressure…it doesn’t come from outside sources.
Recently, because of legislative efforts, the pressure turned into something else. Something along the lines of “what if”, only specifically targeted at how a bad outcome for me/my baby would affect the workings at the Capitol. What if my baby or I die and the jerk doctors groups get wind of it and they try to turn my family’s tragedy into political gain? What a yucky thought, but it was there nonetheless. This is what those people do! I’ve heard more than one very embellished (that’s putting it lightly) story about a bad outcome from a home birth and in one particular instance I knew the family would not have been okay with their story being told by the opposition. I mulled over this prospect for a while, with my heart hurting at the idea that anyone would use another person’s hurt in such a sinister way. Eventually, I came up with a plan.
I sent an email to “my” group, explaining my fear and making clear that should anything happen to me or my baby, I would want them to do or say whatever needed to be done to protect the “cause”. I would NOT want to become fodder for the opposition. Then, I talked to my husband about how having politicians and doctors groups use us for their purpose would be devastating to me. He understood and assured me that if HE had anything to say about it, that would not be the case.
I like to think Pam England would be proud, that I tracked my “tiger” and then tamed it. I still feel some of the pressure, but I don’t hear the constant refrain in my head any more. 🙂