I’ll let you in on a little smidgen of information about myself. I’m 25 years old. By the standards set forth in the United States of America, I’m old enough to fight and die for my country. I’m old enough to buy cigarettes if I so choose. I’m old enough to buy alcohol. I’m old enough to rent a car. I’m old enough to get a cheaper rent on my car insurance because I’m no longer in the 16-24 age bracket. I’m old enough to choose to have my tubes tied or my reproductive tract totally removed. Do you know what I’m not permitted to do? I’m not permitted to choose the location, provider, and method in which to give birth. It’s quite interesting, actually. In this country, a woman has the right to “choose.” I have the right to choose birth control. I have the right to choose an abortion. I have the right to choose adoption. I have the right to choose Plan B. Yet I do not have the right to choose how my baby enters this world. What’s wrong with this picture? We are commended for being “brave” to undergo risky procedures in hostile environments. Yet we are berated for expecting to receive mother-baby-friendly, evidence-based care?
I will be embarking on a series of entries detailing my plight with the current medical-model-of-care. I will discuss how my age has affected my care. I will discuss how my income level has affected my care. I will discuss how my desire for true informed consent has affected my care. I will share my frustrations. I will share links to stories that prove it can be done. I will do everything in my power to bring awareness to the current cesarean epidemic plaguing our country. I will delve into issues of ethics involving the legal field entering into the practice of medicine. I will try to show you just how disgusting this system has gotten. I may isolate myself from some readers, but I don’t care. This isn’t pretty. This isn’t sexy. This is the truth. The truth hurts.
