Doctors and nurses who are not willing to listen to their patients should be replaced
BY VICTORIA SMITH
The third time I went into labour, I was determined to avoid getting told off. With both of my previous births, I had somehow managed to get things wrong. My errors the first time: going to hospital too early, then, when I returned three hours later, “leaving it so late”. The second time: ignoring assurances that I didn’t need to come in yet, then giving birth in the car park — an event I later discovered was being used in antenatal classes as an example of women “not planning ahead”.
“My previous births have been fast,” I said, when I went into labour with my third, “so I’d like to come in now.” I was speaking to the woman at the midwife-led unit that is the only option where I live. (If you need a caesarean section, you have to be transferred to next town.) “Third babies are notoriously difficult,” was her response.
What an odd thing to say to a woman already in labour. The “notoriously” suggested it wasn’t based on any actual evidence, but rather a kind of folk wisdom. It felt as though I was being warned not to tempt fate, not to assume that this baby would just pop out. I saw myself being categorised as one of those arrogant women who presumes to know her own body, only to be taught a harsh yet much-deserved lesson. “Third babies are notoriously difficult” sounded not unlike “third-time mothers shouldn’t get above themselves”.
In fact, I have never been particularly cocky about childbirth. When I was pregnant with my first child, back in the days when the Right-wing press were still obsessed with famous women being “too posh to push”, I wondered if I might be able to get an elective caesarean myself. I did not particularly care about childbirth being a wonderful experience, or about “doing it well”. I didn’t care if the Daily Mail thought I was a joke.
What I cared about was not having a child who would face the same difficulties as my brother, who was starved of oxygen at birth. This has had serious consequences for him, and for the rest of my family. Just how serious is hard to gauge. He was born traumatised; there has never been a before to compare the after with. What there has been instead is the hazy outline of an alternative life, one that runs parallel to the one he has now. It’s a life that began with the problem being identified sooner, with him being delivered quickly, perhaps by emergency caesarean. The difference between this and his actual life comes down to something small: mere moments, mere breaths.
I was born three years after my brother, in a larger hospital, where my mother was induced and monitored carefully. There is something very strange about being the sibling who had the safe birth. It feels as though I stole it. There is a constant sense of guilt, as if my life — my independence, my choices — constitutes a form of gloating. “This is what you could have had.” Everything I do feels like something owed to my brother (do it, because he can’t) but also something taken from him (you shouldn’t have done that, because he should have done it first).
Still, my family were fortunate, insofar as my brother didn’t die. Current reports on the Nottingham maternity scandal reference 1,700 cases, with an estimated 201 mothers and babies who might have survived had they received better care. What strikes me, reading them, is the enormous gulf between the cost of a disastrous birth and the trivial, opportunistic way in which childbirth is so often politicised — with mothers themselves viewed as morally, if not practically, to blame if anything goes wrong.
As a feminist who concerns herself with how the female body is demonised, my interest in debates about birthing choices is more than personal. I have read books railing against the over-medicalisation of childbirth, aligning it with a patriarchal need to appropriate female reproductive power. I have also read books protesting the fetishisation of “natural” birth, suggesting that it infantilises women, that it implies women deserve pain. To be honest, I find both arguments persuasive and dismaying. Both are right about the way in which misogyny and professional arrogance can shift the focus away from meeting the needs of women and babies. I feel a kind of rage that we are told to pick a side.
Representations of the labouring woman are so often negative: the naïve idealist, the “birthzilla“, the birth-plan obsessive, the woman who is “too posh to push”. This latter stereotype has gone hand-in-hand with a veneration of vaginal births, and stigmatisation of caesareans, that has had sometimes disastrous consequences. Midwives at the centre of the Furness General Hospital scandal were reported to have “pursued natural birth ‘at any cost’”, referring to one another as “the musketeers”; at least 11 babies and one mother died. But their approach was sanctioned by their employer: the 2006 NHS document “Pathways to Success: a self-improvement toolkit” explicitly suggested that “maternity units applying best practice to the management of pregnancy, labour and birth will achieve a [caesarean section] rate consistently below 20% and will have aspirations to reduce that rate to 15%”. Proposed benefits to this included “a sense of pride in units”.
Responses to maternity scandals now express horror that such an anti-intervention culture ever arose — responses in the same press that denigrated women such as Victoria Beckham and Kate Winslet for not giving birth vaginally. Instead, newspapers now stoke outrage over “natural” treatments during NHS births, such as burning herbs. Women have been shamed for having caesareans, but they have also been shamed for wanting births with minimum intervention — as though they are selfish and spoilt for seeking control over such an extreme situation.
In his memoir This Is Going To Hurt, former doctor Adam Kay writes disparagingly of women who arrive at the delivery suite with birth plans:
“‘Having a birth plan’ always strikes me as akin to having a ‘what I want the weather to be’ plan or a ‘winning the lottery’ plan. Two centuries of obstetricians have found no way of predicting the course of a labour, but a certain denomination of floaty-dressed mother seems to think she can manage it easily.”
Wanting to have some control over your experience of labour — which will hurt you and could kill you or your baby — is not akin to some messianic aspiration to control the weather. And in his mockery of the woman who wants whale song and aromatherapy oils, ironically, Kay deploys the same silencing techniques that might intimidate a woman out of seeking the very interventions he so prizes. What he and others do not seem to grasp is that their arrogance is a problem, regardless of which course of action they champion. It makes women feel they can’t speak, for fear of inviting hostility at their most vulnerable moments. It’s true that none of us knows our body well enough to know how we will give birth. But, looking back, I find it utterly insane, not least given my own family history, that one of my biggest worries during labour was “please don’t let anyone get cross with me”. Then again, I don’t think that fear is unrelated to the desire to remain safe.
Birth is not a joke. It is not a place for professional dick-swinging or political one-upmanship. I cannot describe — and, as I am not my mother, cannot fully understand — the shame of feeling that you “let down” your child before they drew their first breath, that they will forever suffer because of it. You watch an entire life unfolding and that feeling is there, every single day. This is the fear of the women in labour who are characterised as either idiots mesmerised by fantasy homebirths or cold-hearted posh ladies who can’t take the pain. If things go wrong, they are the ones who will bear the consequences, reflecting every day on what might have been, if they’d only done more.
When people discuss their siblings, my mind does wander to the one I don’t have, the one who was born safely. Perhaps he would have a job he loved, or one he hated, but in any case a job. Perhaps he would have a partner. Perhaps he would have children, and I would be their aunt. Perhaps we wouldn’t get on, wouldn’t even speak, but he’d have a life of his own. I know he thinks about this too. I wonder if the professionals who presided over his birth have thought about him since.
My third labour was not, by the way, “notoriously difficult”. My third son arrived into the world safe and well. No one can say why him or me, and not my brother. Mothers may long for control over birth, for which we are mocked; but we do not have it, for which we are blamed. Politics still takes precedence over our needs, and the needs of our babies.
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rtgame playing Minecraft proper for the first time since 12? Ish years ago was really eye opening for at least gauging the actual game design of Minecraft because on his own, Daniel figured out basically the intended ways of beating the different bosses. Like most Minecraft players become so jaded and pre-aware of all the hacks and tips and tricks but he just discovers all this on his own, like figuring out the mechanics of the warden and sculk sensors, problem solving the ocean monument, etc. he's a goddamn gamer and he managed to figure most of it out on his own (plus twitch chat helping) being able to explain it's mechanics in a natural and discoverable way is great game design
Of course the game doesn't hold your hand all the way and some things are painful to progress, for example having to unlock recipes means slow means to goals, the rationale I understand but when some recipes that are essential like shields isn't easily found despite having almost all the materials the player is still at disadvantage. Another thing is just basic features being a bit hard to actually guess just as is in the game. For example villager tables, how are people supposed to know the tables are meant villager jobs when they are hidden in houses and the villagers just roam outside clueless. Only reason Dan found out is through twitch chat
And even so Dan already has knowledge of Minecraft from since horses update. Beginner players who've never even heard of a Minecraft have issue because things are not easily explained. I think an issue Is how underutilised the advancements and achievements are because they give you hints when you accomplish something. In fact in the deep dark, Dan sneaked near the sculk sensors and got the Sneak 100 achievement, which hinted towards the sound mechanics and informed him sneaking doesn't produce noises.
It's just an inch resting thought as I rewatch the Minecraft let's play
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So because I am crazy and insane, I went ahead and played against Al-Haitham numerous time in order to figure out ALL the cards that are apart of his deck.
You see, when m*hoyo creates decks for our playable characters, multiple things obviously come into play:
- Do the cards synergies well with one another? - Does the element duo open interesting event card and/or action card? - Do the character apart of the deck know each other/have a good relationship with one another? - What character card are currently available? - etc.
You know, basics. Not every point have to check out, of course. But most do. Kind of the way a non-sweaty player would think. And so while I was surprised and delighted to see Cyno in Al-Haitham deck, I had to rationalize my delusions.
"Oh, it’s for electro resonance. The card he’s playing bursts down his opponent. He will need the energy." Okay, very true rational me, but then again, why Cyno? Based on your assumption, would Raiden’s card not have been more sutible? Perhaps Kujou Sara who thrives in quicken decks…
"Maybe because his deck takes advantage of sumerian event cards which only activates when two character cards are from Sumeru" True true true. Damn. Perhaps, you are right. I’m just delusional, but I am content… unless. Isn’t D*ri from Sumeru? Which raises my question again…UGH. No no actually, you are probably right. Most certainly right, rational me. But I must see him use it myself. To appease my insanity.
So I played against Mr Scribe. Only to beat him in four rounds. So I matched us again. And again. And again. I think our longest match was 11 rounds? No matter. My point is, he did not use a card which REQUIRES two sumerian. Not once. He sure damn used the electro resonance card though, I can assure you that!
I even went to check other characters decks, keeping in mind what event/action card were available when they came out. And like, if I can grossly summarize, you have type
A) They are lowkey meta decks (i.e. Wanderer)
or type
B) They are definitely… decks (i.e. Klee)
Guess where I would categorize Al-Haitham’s deck? He’s soooo likeeee (it’s type B by the way). I’m probably trying to rationalize it because I genuinely thought he’d do something so stupidly meta and he just… did not? And even if he did, I thought it would have a strategy that isn’t "rely on Cyno’s card when all turns to shit". Like sir! Please stop making me like your pairing more and more it was not supposed to be like this.
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JKFAJSKDJSA I’ve got brainrot thinking about Iroh and Zuko making it to Ba Sing Se and Iroh has such a breath of relief about them being safe now, and now they’re going to be able to make money and support themselves and now they’re completely independent of their family (and safe from the Azula/the bounty on their heads; not to mention their wanted poster gives permission to kill them on sight), and with this money and safety, Iroh’s hoping Zuko can start assimilating into the life of a (somewhat) normal teenager. Not only does Iroh mourn his only child, but Zuko’s relationship with his father was already tenuous - thus this could be the perfect scenario in that Iroh could sidle into a true fatherhood role for Zuko.
Iroh’s so eager to see Zuko become happy, pushing him on that date with Jin, doing his hair, hoping he’ll let go of Ozai’s expectations. With the new tea shop in the upper ring, I can only imagine Iroh began planning to set aside funds so Zuko could attend Ba Sing Se University eventually, or for Zuko to get his own place one day; maybe he’ll meet a nice girl and Iroh can ensure they have a good financial start and fund the wedding; he has so many ideas and hopes that have been transplanted from his dreams for Lu Ten’s future and are now given to Zuko. It’s the life he couldn’t give Lu Ten, and he hopes his love is what Zuko needs after everything Ozai has put him through. After realizing that being part of the Fire Nation Royal Family has caused his pain (and his nephew’s) he’s more than happy to leave it all behind to discover what he wants out of the rest of his life; and he hope to encourage the same for Zuko. He can be a father again to a boy who needs one.
But Zuko... wants to go home. And Uncle is Uncle, not his father. He wants to make Ozai proud. Living in Ba Sing Se is a shadow of the life he wants.
As much as Iroh and Zuko mean to each other, the different levels they’re living on are so far away that they can’t understand why the other would want the life they want so badly. Their difference in age and experiences and traumas is so vast, and yet they’re all each other has until Azula comes to collect and offers Zuko everything he’s ever wanted.
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Look I get that not every piece of wish fulfillment is gonna be universal. In fact in a lot of cases, the more niche it is the more effective it is emotionally.
But gender essentialist trans wish fulfillment magic systems (eg "only the girls in this family turn into werewolves, main character is a trans girl and becomes a werewolf") just. make me really fucking tired.
Again. Not every piece of media has to cater to me. I get that. But it just kinda sucks when I'm digging for trans fiction as a way to make myself feel better, and there's a world that I can't see myself in. where the existence of someone outside the binary is a weird exception to be handwaved away if even addressed at all.
My relationship to gender is that it's a socially constructed mess that I take bits and pieces of that I enjoy. I don't want to think about a world where the laws of nature tell me "no, a Woman is a Real Fundamental Concept with sharp edges, it cannot be subdivided, it is atomic and inviolate."
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