In past generations, mothers didn’t have to think about it. At some point the nurse would just bring you your baby and tell you that he had been circumcised and here’s how you take care of the wound, thank you, have a nice day.
Now though, they give you literature listing pros and cons in all caps. Then you have to sign forms and check a box that either says “Circumcise my son†or “DO NOT circumcise my sonâ€. So it’s not even a decision you can passively make and then later claim you didn’t realize what you were doing. It’s right there, on record, with your signature. You even have to send in your decision ahead of time so you can’t claim that the narcotics made you do it.
So here was my first major parenting dilemma. Kevin said that he would prefer to do it, but would defer to me if I felt strongly against it. That left it up to me to muddle through the information to find an answer that made emotional and logical sense.
I went to the internet, expecting to find the obvious right answer. Instead I found objective experts hemming and hawing, and lots of incredibly biased information.
On one side you have anti-circ sites that conduct studies proving that the surgery is the most traumatic thing in the world by asking adult circumcised men “Do you think that was traumatic for you?â€
The pro sites are no better, with their claims that circumcised boys are more likely to grow up to be highly educated and wealthy. Of course we could also use their methodology to prove that if we have our son circumcised, he is more likely to grow up to keep Kosher.
I tried to be vigilantly aware of the bias, but about three times a day I found something that would firmly convince me in one direction or another. One day I decided: No way was this going to happen. From this point of view I smugly read through message boards, shaking my head at the cruel parents who would subject their sons to needless torture. But later that morning I read about smegma and cheerful advice like “Yes, moms, that smell is natural!†and I couldn’t help the part of my brain that said “Ack! Cut it off!!â€
So I read and read and read. I read the recommendations of official-sounding pediatric associations. I read personal essays by adults who had the surgery comparing the before and after. I read woeful tales of parents who decided against it, only to have to watch their 4-year-old have it done for medical reasons, at an age that is most definitely confusing and traumatic.
And I saw some of the least erotic penis pictures ever. Ever.
My list of bookmarks grew but I still couldn’t find the Right Answer. Anxiety over it started keeping me up at night. A few days ago Kevin and I started talking about it and I was embarrassed to find myself in tears. It’s startling how protective I feel of this baby I haven’t even seen yet. I really want to do this but it’s completely against every instinct I have to keep him as warm and cozy and safe and comfortable as possible.
What it comes down to is …
A) We both want to do it.
B) I feel guilty about that because our reasons aren’t logical.
C) My doctor doesn’t routinely use anesthetic
D) I can’t shake the vision of the surgery taking place and my baby screaming in pain.
E) If this doctor won’t use some type of anesthetic, I’ll find one who will.
So there you have it, the first major parenting dilemma, safely navigated. I’m at peace with this decision, and now I can sleep again. That is, except for having to get up and pee every 2 hours, but I’m pretty sure that’s unrelated.
posted by electric boogaloo in
Journal,
Pregnancy and have
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