Throughout the beginning of my first pregnancy, I firmly believed I
was carrying a girl. I mean, I would have bet money on it. At our 20 week
ultrasound we discovered that he was a boy. After my surprise wore off, it didn't take long until the question I had been hoping to avoid by having a girl
came up: were we going to circumcise him?
I’ll tell you that
my initial reaction was “no way!” How
could I do that to my baby? And why? Why would I remove something he was born
with as if it were a birth defect? If I would have just stuck with those
initial feelings, I wouldn’t be writing this today. But sadly, I didn’t.
I did what most new
moms do when trying to make this decision: first, I asked my doctor. He wasn’t
very helpful. He basically told us that the choice between doing it and not
doing it was like six of one, and a half dozen of another. Looking back on it
now, I cringe at how little information he gave us, and I can’t believe that he
considered what little he did give us to be informed consent. Not one word
about the functions of the foreskin. Not one word about the thousands of nerve
endings we would be removing from our son’s most sensitive body part. Not one
bit about how the procedure is done. I did ask him about the pain and he
assured me that he uses an anesthetic. He implied that the baby would not feel
any pain. This made me feel a little better.
Then, I asked my
friends. I hate to say it, but my friends were all from a pretty small bubble
that really all thought the same thing. The consensus from pretty much everyone
I talked to was that uncircumcised penises were dirty and looked “gross” and of
course they were going to have it done. Some had sons and had already had it
done to them. I tried to get more detailed information as to why they had
chosen this for their sons, but really just got that they thought it was
cleaner and looked nicer. And I have to admit, deep down, I thought the same
thing.
Then finally, I
asked my husband. Being from a family that chose circumcision for their sons
and growing up in the same culture that convinced me and my friends that uncut
penises were gross, of course he wanted to have it done to our son. I think we
kind of believed that ridiculous notion that a son’s penis should look like his
father’s (I look back on that thinking now, and I can’t believe I bought in to
that nonsense).
My precious baby
boy was born soon after in the middle of the night by emergency cesarean
section after the monitors showed his heart rate dropping too low. I was very shaken by the whole thing.
My doctor was not on call that night, so one of his partners performed the
surgery. It was pretty bad. I was totally scared. I was vomiting from the drugs.
No one said a word to me. They just talked amongst themselves about stupid
stuff.
I was so sick
afterwards. I continued to vomit and feel horribly nauseous for another 12
hours. And I was in so much pain. I felt like I had been run over by a truck
and then dragged for miles. I couldn’t believe it. But I was so excited to
finally have my baby, and so excited to be a momma. I held him for the first time
in the recovery room. I couldn’t open my eyes without throwing up, so I just
held him and talked to him. I told him that I had been waiting for him for such
a long time, and I loved him so much. I told him that I was his momma and that
I would take care of him.
I was feeling
somewhat better by the next day. At least the room had stopped spinning. That’s
when they came in to take him to be circumcised. I honestly don’t remember too
much about it. I was probably still too drugged. I don’t remember anyone
talking to me about it. I don’t remember signing anything. What I do remember,
however was me handing him over to them. I remember it because right before I
did, I had this feeling that it was wrong, that I didn’t want to do it. I
didn’t want to give him to them. But I did. How I wish I could go back to that
very moment and say “No! You cannot have him!” But I didn’t listen to that
voice inside me.
My husband and I
waited anxiously in my room for what seemed like forever. Finally they brought
him back. I will never forget what he looked like. I can’t even describe it. I
asked the nurse what was wrong with him. “What happened? Was he crying?” I
asked her. “Oh… yea, a little” she said sheepishly. I could tell it was way
more than a little. “Well, why was he crying?” I asked. “My doctor said with
the anesthetic, he wouldn’t feel it!“ I told her, getting pretty upset. She
looked at me and said “Oh your doctor isn’t here today. The on-call doctor did it. He
doesn’t use any anesthetic.”
He doesn’t use any anesthetic.
I wanted
to throw up. I couldn’t believe what I had just done to my boy. I can’t even
express how horrible I felt. Here I was with my first baby, my first pregnancy.
I had eaten everything healthy. I had given up caffeine and diet Cokes, sushi,
margaritas and soft cheeses. I held my
breath as I walked by people who were smoking. I went to all of my prenatal
appointments. I took all kinds of vitamins. I went to childbirth classes and
did prenatal yoga. I planned for a natural, drug-free, peaceful birth. And none
of it mattered now. In my very first test as a mom to this baby, I had failed
him. He didn’t care about any of those other things. All he knew was that I had
let them hurt him.
I can’t even tell
you how much I wanted to hurt that doctor. I saw him pass by in the hall and I
wanted to jump on him and beat the crap out of him. (Thank goodness my
ignorance kept me from knowing all that he had just done to him, or I might
very well have) I couldn’t understand how anyone, much less a doctor who is
supposed to help people, could do that to a defenseless baby. I couldn’t
imagine how much my baby must have been hurting, and screaming for me. And I
was sitting here in this room just waiting as they tortured him. It was
horrible.
Soon the time came
for the nurse to show us how to care for the wound. Where his sweet little baby
penis used to be was what looked like a red, raw stump. I saw it and the first
thought that popped into my mind was that it looked like something that is not
supposed to be exposed. It looked to me like an organ that needed to be covered. I had no idea that during babyhood and
childhood, the foreskin is literally fused to the head of the penis, just like
your fingernail is fused to your finger. This protects the penis from
contamination from feces and urine and allows the penis to continue to grow and
mature until the connection naturally separates on its own sometime before
adolescence. This keeps it protected and safe until it is needed for sex. In
order to circumcise a baby, they have to rip apart that connection, just like
you would rip a fingernail off of a finger. This is what the doctor is doing when he
sticks the metal probe down into the tip of the penile opening and forces it
around to the other side. He is
physically ripping apart that membrane.
I left the hospital
the next day. I was so happy to finally be a mom, so excited to be bringing my
baby home. But deep inside, I already doubted my abilities.
Over the next few
days I continued to care for the wound like the nurse showed us. I did
everything I was supposed to, but I could tell it still hurt him. Every time he
peed or pooped in his diaper, he would cry. Every time I had to change him I
would have to mess with it some more. I had to clean it off, and clean off any poop
that had gotten onto it. This was not an easy thing to do because after a
circumcision is done, a “ring” of foreskin is left (to allow for growth and
because when they are so little, it’s hard to tell how much their adult penis
will need to expand comfortably. Babies who have every bit taken off, called a
tight circumcision, can grow to have very painful erections). The space between
this “ring” and the head (glans) would collect anything and everything it came
into contact with; stray clothing strings, stray hair, poop. It would get stuck
in all the tiny folds and behind the head. This is partly due to the fact that
this area of the penis is similar to a mucus membrane, like the inside of your
mouth or eyelids. It is meant to be moist and lubricated. It is meant to be
covered and protected by the foreskin. This is nature’s way of ensuring the
sensitivity is preserved, and helps to keep any foreign matter away. When it’s
not covered and is exposed, it seems to actually attract stuff. I had to pull
back all his little bits and clean out every part. This was not easy to do on
an open wound. He cried at every diaper change. It obviously hurt him. Looking
back now, I don’t know why we thought it wouldn’t. Almost his entire penis was an open, raw
wound.
After a few days, I
started to notice that it didn’t look quite right. It looked crooked or
something. I had a follow up scheduled with my OB a few days later, so I
decided to mention it to him. At the end of my appointment at his office, I
asked him to take a look. I mentioned how it didn’t look quite right to me,
like they had left some of the foreskin attached to his glans still. Apparently, what happened was when they did
his circumcision, they left a larger amount of foreskin on the left side than
on the right. This part of foreskin had reattached to the side and top of his
glans. I learned this later, however. As soon as my OB saw my baby’s penis,
without telling me anything, explaining anything, or much less asking if he
could, and without so much as a thought to the pain that it would cause my
little guy, he grabbed hold of the area and physically ripped the separation
apart. AGAIN. My son screamed like I had never heard him before. It immediately
started bleeding. During all of this crying and bleeding, was when my doctor
decided to tell us what he had just done and why. I just stood there in shock.
I could not believe I had just let them hurt him for a second time. I was
speechless. I stared at him in disbelief at what he had just done. We left that
appointment and I never went back there again.
By this point I was
just sick with regret. I worried that it was done wrong. I worried that it
would never look right. I worried that he would have to have it done again. I wished I had never messed with it. I mean,
my God, it was his penis! And I was
doing all kinds of stuff to it. This is not a body part you want to mess
up. I told myself right then and there
as we drove home that I was done messing with my son’s penis. I never should
have started. Whatever else needed to be done to it, would be his decision to
make.
I felt worse than ever now. I had the usual new mom anxieties, but to
know that I had disfigured my son, whom I had just barely met, was horrible.
Every time I changed his diaper, I wanted to cry. Sometimes I did. I felt like
a total failure as a mom. It hurt our relationship as well. I had difficulties
bonding with him. I loved him and adored being a mom, but I felt like he should
have gotten a better one.
Soon afterward, I
began to research circumcision. I mean, real research, not just silly fluff
pieces in parenting magazines. I read studies. I read medical journal articles.
I learned that the U.S. is the only country (besides Israel and small parts of
Africa) that circumcises. I was shocked. I thought everybody did it. I learned that the claim that circumcision prevents penile cancer is such a falsehood that the American Cancer Society had even released a statement asking everyone to quit saying it was true. I learned
how painful the procedure actually is by watching a YouTube video of an actual circumcision being performed. I was absolutely sickened by that
baby’s screams, and even more so by the doctor’s complete and utter lack of
concern at the torture he was inflicting. His callousness was what really stuck
with me. I just didn’t understand how they could do it. Doctors spend years studying the human body. They know how painful it must be. They take
oaths to “First, do no harm.”, and here they were, cutting off fully
functioning, healthy body parts, apparently oblivious to the person screaming in
pain right in front of them.
It was during this
research that I finally found out about the functions of the foreskin. I had no
idea that the part of the penis that everyone was cutting off actually has very
important purposes. And it was most definitely not just a flap of extra skin. It
had so many different specialized functions, 20,000 nerve endings, specialized cells
that actually fought infection… and
much more. There was a part of me that didn’t want to know. I wanted to stop
reading.
I remember when it all finally came to me; the
realization of all that I had actually taken from my son. I was sitting in
front of the computer holding him in my arms. I just remember thinking how
badly I wanted a do-over; how badly I wished I could go back and change things.
I had spent more time researching which stroller to buy than I had spent
researching whether or not to circumcise my son. I had relied on the opinions
of people who knew little more about circumcision than I did, which I now
realized, was next to nothing. I was absolutely sick with regret. We all know
how strong a mother’s love for her child is. Mothers will easily give their
lives to save their child. Well, at that moment I would have easily traded a
body part of my own to get his back. I literally would have.
I had so many
emotions. I was shocked. I was speechless. I was hurt, and hurting. I was angry. Why did I not know all of this
information before? Why did no one
tell me? Why did my own doctor not
tell me, especially when I had asked
him? Why on Earth did I listen to other people, who knew nothing about
circumcision other than the fact that they liked the look of it better? It was
unbelievable. I was so angry with myself. I thought I was smarter than that,
but still, I fell for it.
Soon afterward, I
learned I was expecting another boy. And
there it was again, THE question: Would we circumcise him? It may seem after
all you’ve read that my decision was easy, but I will not lie to you, it wasn’t.
I knew in my heart that it was an unnecessary, harmful procedure, but there
were so many other things to consider now. I had one son that was circumcised;
did the other one have to be as well? I mean, didn’t they have to “match”? If
we decided not to circumcise him, would my second son feel out of place as the
only intact male in the house? Would my husband feel differently toward either
of them? Would either one feel like an outsider? Or be traumatized and scarred
for life? What if I had a third son, or a fourth? Would I just keep circumcising and circumcising just to make sure I had a matching set?
I thought and thought about the future ramifications. How would I
explain to my boys why they looked different from each other? And there it was- the thought that deep down had been worrying me the most: How would I explain? How would I tell my grown baby, my
precious son, what I let them do to him? In leaving my second son whole, I
would have to address their difference; I would be saying “I chose differently
this time because what I did to you was wrong”. That thought killed me. Could I
admit to myself, to my son, to the world, that I had made such a mistake?
It would
be so easy to avoid all of these questions. It would be so easy to just have my
second son circumcised as well. I wouldn’t have to confront any of it. Except, now
I knew better. I knew what I had done to him. I knew I was wrong. And I knew I couldn’t
pretend I was right just to make myself feel better.
Oh, how I wrestled and wrestled with this decision. Then,
one day, I suddenly realized that I was struggling to answer this question that
should have never been asked. His penis was healthy. His foreskin was not
diseased. It was not harming him, or threatening his life. It was a normal, healthy, functioning part of his body,
and it was not my place to decide whether
to cut it off or not; it was his.
And that was it for me. I was done. I decided that when they
were old enough to decide for themselves what they wanted to do with their
bodies, I would be there to support them. But it needed to be their decision. I
didn’t have to say I was wrong, or this is right; I didn’t have to prove to
anyone that one way was better than the other. I had to simply say, "It’s not my
decision to make". And that’s it. It was amazing how simple and logical and freeing this
realization was.
My son was born soon
after and we kept him whole. The questions I spent so many months agonizing
over have been a complete non-issue. Honestly, the biggest thing I’ve noticed
was how easy it was to take care of him. There is no special cleaning of an
intact baby required. At birth and for many years afterward, the foreskin is fused to the head of the penis. It does not retract. This means that
there is nothing extra you as a parent will have to do to clean or take care of
your intact son. Nothing. All you do is wipe it off like you would a finger. My
intact son was easier to clean than my circumcised son. Seriously. And he was
far easier to clean than my daughter.
My boys see each others' bodies all the time and have never mentioned a difference. I think they just don't expect each other to look the same; their hair is different, their faces are different; and both look different from their sister. Neither one of them looks like their dad. And frankly, I'd be pretty creeped out if they did. They are little boys. And they look like little boys, and think like little boys and don't expect (or want) to "match" anyone. They are perfectly happy just to be who they are. When the time comes that they are old enough to understand, or if they start asking questions, I will explain. I will apologize to my son, and I will pray that he forgives me.