Medical Shaming

If you equate vulnerability to weakness this might not be the post for you.

“You need to sort this out,” the doctor said.

I could feel the sheet of white hygiene paper underneath my palms. The fluorescent light hummed overhead. The ceiling was covered in large white tiles. The air was heavy with the smell of antiseptic and latex. He was wearing a red checked shirt tucked into beige cords. His sleeves were rolled up above his elbows. His forearms were covered in fair hair. Gold-rimmed glasses sat midway down his straight nose. His face was set.

A butterfly sat on the windowsill. Its orange wings spread receiving the warm June sunshine. I was frozen on the examination table. The palms of his hands were on the soft bulge of my stomach. Like magnets, his hands pulled up all my buried shame and the unresolved shame of my ancestors.

My six-week-old baby was nestled in his car seat on the floor opposite me. He was so beautiful and peaceful in his cream babygro. I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

“Shh, shh, shh,” I said as my baby began to stir.

The doctor went on to do an internal examination and a smear test in the same cold manner.

I beat myself up for a long time for not stopping him. For walking out of the surgery in tears and not reporting him. I didn’t know at the time that shame is a great silencer. It breeds in the dark hidden places inside.

Over the years some anger has bubbled up with a ‘how dare he’ vibe.

He asked nothing about the fear of carrying a baby when my first was born with an undiagnosed heart condition that required open-heart surgery.

He asked nothing about the five months of constant morning sickness while looking after a toddler when my husband worked long hours, six days a week.

He asked nothing about a medical induction bringing on contractions every two minutes for over 24 hours.

He didn’t care that I’d pushed for hours before needing an emergency C-section to deliver my 10Ib 1oz baby.

He didn’t care that I didn’t get to hold my second baby either because the operating theatre was cleared when I started to haemorrhage and the spinal anesthetic began to stop numbing.

He didn’t care that my bladder had been crushed in the pushing phase which meant an extended stay in hospital with a catheter which led to a kidney infection.

He didn’t mention my new baby having a heart murmur which reactivated fears from my first child.

He didn’t mention the long sleepless nights or the overwhelming days.

He mentioned the ‘wrong’ state of my stomach.

Eighteen years later my beautiful baby is on his first friend's holiday and last night doing one of my emotional energetics practices I felt a huge release in my womb. It felt like a life force reactivated. As the beautiful feeling swept through me this doctor memory resurfaced. I was finally able to meet and accept the full emotional charge and it is liberating. 'Welcome home', I thought to myself.

A lot of my work is helping clients meet their emotions in a safe and loving way. It’s about acceptance and fully meeting the emotions which activates natural healing.

Toxic shame is one of the most damaging of emotions.

Guilt points to something we’ve done or haven’t done, with a focus on behaviour. For example “I did something wrong”. It can be helpful in navigating life and relationships.

Shame is the painful and damaging belief that something we’ve done, experienced or we’ve not done means that we are worthless and unlovable. It is a focus on self “I am wrong” “I am unlovable”, “I am not worthy”. It points to something fundamental at our core.

Shame is destructive and dangerous. We all deserve a life free of shame.

Much love
Nicola x