Introduction 2 (Circumcision: The Painful Dilemma)
From Peaceful Beginnings
Introduction II
Much water has flowed under the bridge since my book was first published in 1985.
I have had both tragedy and triumph. When my fourth child and first daughter, Lisa, was born in 1981, we thought our family was complete. However, in 1983, when my book was virtually finished and I was still struggling to get it printed and published, I found that I was pregnant. I was excited to welcome a fifth child into our family AND bring my book to fruition but sadly I miscarried at 19 weeks. My world seemed shattered, my maternal feelings at rock bottom. I feared that my long gestated book would also be abortive. (As any writer knows, a book is another type of “child” to the author.)
By now my book was typeset. A supportive activist had generously done the work at cost and many desperately needed and appreciated donations from others had paid for it. This was in the pre-personal computer world of the early 1980s and I slaved away with my X-acto knife, waxer, light box, and bottle of White-Out, shaping the long rolls of typeset manuscript and photographic prints into pages, one by one, bit by bit. Hope for my book still soared within me, but every image of an infant — some so peaceful, others in pain — tore at my heart. My own baby had left me.
In 1984 I became pregnant again, deliberately, hoping to have a soft, sweet bundle in my arms again, and my life gloriously back together. Tragically, I again miscarried at 19 weeks. Fibroid tumors had compromised my womb. I was now 37 years old. The possibility of ever carrying another baby to term seemed doubtful. ¡Me! ¡For whom babies and birthing had always meant so much!
After that, I tossed aside much of the confusing, “New-Age” philosophy that I had tried to follow with fervent hope, but that led only to disillusionment. I reconnected with the Christian beliefs of my upbringing. (The accounts of my miscarriages and my Christian experiences are covered in detail on my web site):
http://peacefulbeginnings.cjb.net/copingwithperinatalloss.htm
At this time I contacted Bergin & Garvey, a successful publisher of many childbirth and infant care books. The advantage of taking on an already typeset, pasted-up manuscript gave them the incentive to publish my book. I had already pre-sold several hundred copies, so part of the agreement was that they would supply me with these books at cost.
Early in 1985, 7 1/2 grueling years after the inception of this book, I drove home from an evening errand to find my garage filled with stacks of exciting boxes. Here, finally, were the hundreds of long promised books. ¡A “birth” at last, after an unbelievably long “transition” and “pushing” stage! Not unlike a new mother examining and dressing her newborn, with relief and gratitude I packaged and prepared each book to go out to the world.
Meanwhile, a new life, a new hope for the future, was again growing within me. I faced this pregnancy with much worry and trepidation, refusing to make plans until the 19th week joyously passed, and my womb continued to grow and blossom.
I had other suspicions as well. With my three sons I had experienced only mild morning sickness. But with Lisa and the two miscarriages (which had both been girls), I had been severely nauseated. With this pregnancy I was again experiencing only mild nausea, just as I had always felt when carrying my boys.
“Because of your history of fibroid tumors, I want you to have an ultrasound,” my midwife advised me. At 23 weeks I watched with fascination the image on the ultrasound screen as the tiny promise of a being materialized before me.
“Do you want to know your baby’s sex?” the technician asked me.
I said yes, as I thought to myself, “Is that little sticky-outy thing I see there what I think it is?”
“Okay, you have a little boy,” she confirmed.
I was not surprised, but it was a weird feeling to know the baby’s sex already rather than finding out at the moment of birth, as it had always been and as it was with my first four babies.
But even for ME, of all people, there was some uneasiness. “The baby is a boy! He will be born with a penis! He will have a foreskin! — Panic! Good grief, I wrote the book! I shouldn’t be feeling scared! I’ve been everyone’s resource for circumcision information. Theory will now become practice. There’s no way I’ll ever put another son through that torture! I’d be the biggest hypocrite of the century! But this son will be the one who is different! I’ll have to face the relatives!”
In October 1985 our fifth child and fourth son, Kevin, entered the world. He was born in a hospital birthing room. Kevin’s birth is another detailed story. The account of his birth is also related on my web site.
http://peacefulbeginnings.cjb.net/hospitalbirthaftertwohomebirths.htm
This time I was now an experienced veteran mom and my baby remained by my side with only the minimum of intervention. Everyone present either knew of my groundwork in opposing infant circumcision, or were unconcerned. No one said a word about circumcising the baby. We went home a few hours after birth.
Kevin’s birth was immensely healing for me. After having lost two babies in two years it was tremendously healing to finally have another little, snuggly body again to hold and nurse. Kevin also looked a lot like his older brother, Ryan, had looked. I had another blonde, round-headed, “peach-fuzz” haired baby boy. Eight and a half years earlier Ryan’s beautiful home birth, and subsequent traumatic genital mutilation had torn me apart emotionally, but had been the impetus for my research and activism. This new baby passed his eighth day on earth peacefully sleeping and eating. The ninth day came and nothing bad happened to him. Life would be okay.
Even with all the research I had done over the years, I was surprised to find what a “no brainer” looking after an intact baby truly is. It is so simple that the condition of the child’s penis almost never crosses your mind. While many people in my community knew me for my activism on the subject, the vast majority are simply oblivious to the state of others’ penises. Why did anything so very simple ever become so ridiculously complicated and worrisome?
In 1988 we moved from Bellingham, Washington to Anchorage, Alaska. In 1989, yet another miracle, our daughter Melissa, entered our lives, born blissfully at home in our large bathtub. The details of her birth are also related on my web site:
http://peacefulbeginnings.cjb.net/birthofmelissaannwiener.htm
Our family was now complete (six children, each a joyful blessing, was truly more than we had ever anticipated!) But the success of my book was less than I had hoped for.
Bergin & Garvey had printed around 4,000 softcover editions and 1,000 hardcover editions of my book — far fewer than I had wanted for the initial run. I had eagerly anticipated a second printing soon to follow, but that was not to be. By 1988 they informed me that there would be no reprint. I soon learned that they were in severe financial trouble and were going out of business. By early 1989 my own supply of books had run out. (The Bergin & Garvey publishers today, which bought out the original operation, are not the same organization and have not taken an interest in my book.)
My book did receive a number of favorable reviews (most of which are included at the end of this updated edition.) I only know of two negative reviews. I also received many positive, heartwarming letters from colleagues and other readers who had been benefited or inspired by it. Today I know of many new activists whose energies were originally inspired when they read it.
The early 1990s found me in a state of mental and emotional exhaustion on the subject. (How long can one person be expected to remain fixated on foreskins or the lack of them and all the intricacies surrounding this issue?) Once I was ablaze with passion and anger. Now it was a struggle to answer my mail. I felt discouraged, defeated and burned-out.
Despite the praise and encouragement my book has engendered, discouragement can happen when reality does not meet expectations.
When I set out to write Circumcision: The Painful Dilemma, I hoped it would have as much impact on the circumcision industry as Upton Sinclair’s book, The Jungle, had on the meatpacking industry of the early 1900s. I assumed that laying out the facts, the purpose of the foreskin, the irrelevance of all the so-called “medical” arguments for circumcision and the sight of infants strapped on Circumstraint boards, screaming in pain would be enough to cause outrage and lead to the abolition of the practice. I thought infant circumcision persisted because it had been such a “behind the scenes” event in hospital birth. Once exposed, I believed that natural maternal and paternal protective instincts, simple horror, and pure common sense would quickly intervene, putting the practice to an end. I didn’t think that anyone could possibly be so calloused as to see and know all this and still agree to put their baby through such trauma and deprivation.
Perhaps our society is too jaded. When The Jungle was written, the general public was more sheltered and naïve, hence more easily reached and inspired to activism over wrongdoing. Today, media constantly bombards us with continual warnings of the latest headline-making purported “evils.” Additives in our food, pollutants in our water and air, radiation from our computer screens, cell phones, and electric blankets. Who can know what to believe or care about? Most people alive today have grown up with the very real threat of nuclear annihilation. Then in 2001 our country experienced a horrific terrorist attack beyond any of our previous expectations. “Ho-hum, so what’s the latest scare this week?” As a social concern, perhaps there’s too much “competition.”
Whatever the reasons, I learned that circumcision has a far greater stranglehold on the American public than I had ever realized. Medical arrogance, refusal to listen to lay people (no matter how thorough or valid our research may be), and media distortions and scare stories have reinforced old beliefs. Now that the old medical myths have been debunked, some, desperate to rationalize circumcision, have grabbed at new “reasons” in their place. But the biggest heartbreak is those few people - some close to me - who have been given (and in some instances requested) my information, and then, having giving birth to boys, have chosen to circumcise anyway. I grieved for the babies involved and for the parents’ seeming lack of compassion for their children. But these instances have also felt like a personal slap in the face, after all of my intensive research and energies.
Meanwhile, I have found myself filled with an overwhelming desire to pursue other avenues and interests. I have become a professional craftsperson. There is true joy and healing in following the creative, non-verbal aspect of one’s talents. I have also studied Russian, endured some body-altering surgery of my own (a story I intend to tell in detail eventually), created elegant hand-decorated cakes, including one for my oldest son and his lovely Russian bride. (I’m a mother-in-law now, but no, not a Grandma yet. None of my other kids seem to have any immediate interest in marrying and/or producing offspring.) I’ve also watched my children grow up. My four oldest have “left the nest” now. (I didn’t know it would all happen so fast!)
My intact son, Kevin, is now grown up. None of the feared “social” problems of having a son who “doesn’t match” materialized in our family or in the eyes of “the world.” Most people have little awareness of or interest in circumcision and couldn’t care less whether anybody else’s child is circumcised. Those who are interested in the matter, at least in my case, know about my extensive research and activism and either agree with me or are not about to tangle with me about it.
Kevin had an issue of “looking different”; he needs to wear glasses. Big brothers can be relentless teases and have had a great time calling him names like “four-eyes.” But there has never been any mention about his foreskin, or his brothers’ and Daddy’s lack of them. It has been a total non-issue.
The only “genitalia difference” question for him came up when he was four and his baby sister was born. I had to explain to him why the baby didn’t have a penis!
When Kevin was seven, I decided that it was time to sit down with him and explain why his penis looked one way and his Daddy’s and brothers’ penises (and those of at least some of his friends) looked different. As dedicated as I have been to the ideal of leaving children unmutilated, I had vowed to myself that if he ever should wish to have his penis look like those of his older brothers or his father, I would agree to have him circumcised, but only when he was old enough to understand the sexual advantages of having a foreskin, and I would have required that he read this book. So I calmly explained to him that all baby boys are born the way he is, with the foreskin covering the end of their penises, but that sometimes the doctor cuts part of that skin off, usually shortly after the baby is born. I explained how this hurts a baby and that I had been upset when that had been done to his brothers and that was why I had decided that when he was born I would not have that part of him cut off. I continued with the offer that now that he was old enough to decide, if he felt that he would rather have his penis look like his brothers’ or his Daddy’s, we could take him to a doctor and he could have that done as well.
Then I took a good look at Kevin. With his hands cupped protectively over his genitals and his eyes as big as saucers, he shouted emphatically, “That is NEVER going to happen to ME!”
Fast forward a few years. The teenage years are now surging full force with me, by now a well-seasoned mom of six teaching my young son to drive. I’ve already navigated through the teenage turbulence with my first four children. Will directing my genitally “different” son be some strange, foreboding challenge? Topics such as penises are easily explained to a seven-year-old, but a teenager, especially a male, is an entirely different creature — easily embarrassed and in a world of his own.
“Kevin,” I began tentatively, “This isn’t easy for me to ask you, but I really need to know how you feel about this. Are you okay with not being circumcised, when your Dad and your brothers are?”
Kevin looks at me as if I had suddenly grown three heads!
“I mean,” I continued, “Friends sometimes tease other guys about things. Does anybody ever say anything to you about it?”
“Why on earth would anybody care what my genitals look like?”
I got the message. In other words, “Oh Mom! This has got to be the STUPIDEST question anybody has ever asked me!”
I went on and explained about my work, my book, my research that all took place before he was even born, and my regrets over having put his three brothers through such a horrible trauma.
“You’re the lucky one, Kevin. You were born after I learned all these things.”
Fortunately, Kevin is now comfortable and able to be open about this sensitive topic, and we are able to didcuss it more lightheartedly. I also asked him if any of his friends are also intact like him, and he replied that he honestly did not know. Despite years of P.E. classes, sleepovers with friends, and Boy Scout camping trips, it had never occurred to him to pay any attention to the state of anybody else’s penis. (Girls’ anatomy, however, is considerably more interesting!)
Well, so much for the “social” argument for continuing circumcision within the family. One can only wonder what type of “socializing” they think their kids are going to be doing.
More of these issues are being dispelled as circumcision rates in the United States and worldwide have continued to decrease. I believe, when this gruesome, unimaginably cruel medical fad finally has passed into history, future generations will look upon our stories with curiosity, amusement, sadness, and with enormous relief. For me, and for the babies, that day can't come too soon.
—
R. R.
