Women’s Day focus: The origin of discrimination, the scenes from the birthing room

In these critical moments, the cries and curses from the mother-in-law echo through the birthing room, creating a distressing backdrop to the medical challenges.

In my workplace, at Government Medical College in Jangaon, located in a rural district of Telangana, this unfolds daily whenever women give birth to girls.

Padma is not just a woman. She represents a group, a community, the other half of the society, which comes to the hospital for delivery, hoping she will have a male child.

Their responses may vary when disappointed, but the underlying emotion remains constant—the persistent societal preference for male children.

In some cases, the emotional impact is profound. Tears silently cascade down the faces of these women on the operation table itself, expressing a depth of emotion that transcends verbal communication. They serve as a testament to social dynamics associated with the birth of a female child.

The story of a lap that carries the newborn

When the word gets out that it’s a girl, you can feel the hesitation in the family. They don’t jump to embrace the newborn like they do when it’s a boy. It’s not a genuine excitement; it’s more like a duty they think they have.

But oh boy, when it’s a boy, it’s a whole different scene. There’s this impulsive rush, grabbing the baby like they won a race. They snatch the baby from the nurses, showing a big difference from the quieter reaction when it’s a girl. It screams out loud about the biases society has ingrained in us.

Sometimes, when someone asks about the baby’s gender and hears it’s a girl, they act like it’s a prank. They can’t believe it and need confirmation, saying stuff like, “Really? Can you show me the baby in case it’s a boy?”

In those tense moments when a patient’s BP and pulse go wild, my anaesthesia colleagues try to calm the patient to bring her vitals to normal. They throw in bits about my life as a girl, boasting about me and my three sisters and our achievements.

At the same time, the OT attendant and nurse take a different route to comfort the patient. They start talking about her property, making sure she knows she’s got enough. It’s like saying, “Don’t stress; your daughters are gonna be fine.” These tricks aim to give emotional backup that fits the situation, taking into account personal stories and practical concerns.

The eternal desire

The desire for a male child often doesn’t stop at just having one son. When a woman’s firstborn is a boy and the second is a girl, there’s a lingering wish for yet another son. While the disappointment is somewhat less than having three daughters, dissatisfaction still permeates the air.

Moreover, first-time pregnant women often find themselves eagerly anticipating the gender of their child. In the early stages, there might not be a specific preference for a girl or a boy. However, in a significant portion of the population, a subtle but noticeable preference for a boy emerges as the pregnancy progresses.

This preference isn’t explicitly stated but quietly exists.

And a scam

In urban areas, families aspiring for a male child often resort to illegal gender tests. A local quack who knows how it’s done takes them to these centres.

Aware of the family’s preference, testing centres assure them of the expected male gender.

However, when the woman gives birth to a female child, disbelief fills the room. The family, unwilling to accept having a daughter, grapples with the gap between their expectations and reality.

Mindful of the family’s preference, these centres manipulate results, especially for pregnancies beyond ten weeks. This occurs despite ethical and legal concerns surrounding gender testing and selective abortions.

The hurtful part

In post-vaginal deliveries, vaginal tears are sutured. The local anaesthesia doesn’t fully alleviate the pain. If it’s a girl, the new mother, having gone through the birth pains, faces this additional procedure alone, without anyone, like her previously supportive mother-in-law, to hold her hand.

As a woman, I find this aspect deeply poignant and unsettling. The prioritisation of the desire for a male child over immediate support for the woman in a moment of vulnerability reflects skewed societal values.

Even the husband’s reaction provides a heart-wrenching perspective. For instance, in a situation where the wife is in imminent danger due to ‘antenatal eclampsia’ during childbirth, the husband’s main worry happens to centre around societal expectations and the shame linked to not delivering the male child, as announced in a recent baby shower. I’m surprised by the deep influence of societal pressures on individuals’ choices and priorities, even in life-threatening situations.

These stories bring to the forefront the intertwined challenges women face during childbirth, encompassing not just physical risks but also the burden of societal expectations and family judgments. These additional layers further complicate an already vulnerable situation for women in the process of giving birth.

(The writer is a Senior Resident in the Department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology at Government Medical College, Jangaon, Telangana. Views are personal.)