Severe Morning Sickness

Asian woman have a morning sickness

When I was pregnant, I didn’t experience any morning sickness.  I have heard of some women who experience it with the one pregnancy but not the other.  Some, like Kate, the Duchess of Cambridge, however, suffer from severe morning sickness known as Hyperemesis Gravidarum.

What is Hyperemesis Gravidarum?  It literally means “excessive vomiting in pregnancy”. Hyperemesis starts early, usually before week five of pregnancy.  

Signs and symptoms of hyperemesis gravidarum:

  • Severe nausea and vomiting
  • Food aversions
  • Weight loss of 5% or more of pre-pregnancy weight
  • Decrease in urination
  • Dehydration
  • Headaches
  • Confusion
  • Fainting
  • Jaundice
  • Extreme fatigue
  • Low blood pressure
  • Rapid heart rate
  • Loss of skin elasticity
  • Secondary anxiety/depression

In some cases it is so severe that the woman has to be hospitalized.  Hospital treatment may include:

  • Intravenous fluids (IV) – to restore hydration, electrolytes, vitamins, and nutrients
  • Tube feeding:
    • Nasogastric – restores nutrients through a tube passing through the nose and into the stomach
    • Percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy – restores nutrients through a tube passing through the abdomen and into the stomach; requires a surgical procedure
  • Medications – metoclopramide, antihistamines, and antireflux medications*

Some women might require bed rest but not too much.  My cousin’s wife needed bed rest for both of her pregnancies.  Other treatments include herbs such as ginger and peppermint; homeopathic remedies prescribed by your doctor;  hypnosis and Acupressure.  The pressure point where you can reduce nausea is located at the middle of the inner wrist.  It’s three finger lengths from the crease of the wrist between the two tendons.  When you locate it, you press one wrist firmly at a time for three minutes.  Sea bands can also be used and are available at the drugstore.

Before trying anything, always consult your doctor. For more information on hyperemesis gravidarum you check out HER (Hyperemesis Education & Research) Foundation.

Two things you ought to know:  your baby isn’t at risk.  William and Kate are parents of three beautiful, robust children.  In a post, a woman suffering from HG, gained only 12 pounds by 41 weeks pregnant gave birth to a 7.5 boy which is average.   She cautions mothers not to assume that because the Duchess of Cambridge suffered from HG during all three of her pregnancies, it means that you will every time you’re pregnant.

Studies vary, but most find that women have a good chance of experiencing HG in future pregnancies. Statistics suggest over 50% will have it with each pregnancy and those with more than one experience of HG have a greater risk of experiencing HG in future pregnancies. It also seems to occur in similar patterns and severity, though it is not always consistent. Those who have mothers, grandmothers, or sisters who have had HG will often have at least some nausea and vomiting during pregnancy – HER Foundation

Don’t let these studies discourage you, Moms.  Hang in there.

Sources:  American Pregnancy; Baby Center

One of These Days…

I am sitting in front of the mirror.  A bruised face with haunted eyes are looking back at me.  The cut on my temple needed stitches.  I used to be a nurse before I got married.  I pick up the threaded needle and proceed to sew the cut.  I bite down on my lip at the pain but I won’t stop until it’s done.

I examine my handiwork.  It looks a bit crude but it will do.  I didn’t want to go to the hospital because I would have to explain the bruises on my face and hands.  No, it was better to do this myself.

I sit there staring at myself for a while longer, watching the tears, silent and unabated run down my cheeks.  What have I done to make him hate me so?  It has to be hate.  No man would hit a woman he loves.  I have been a good wife to him.  When he wanted me to give up my job at the hospital, I did so without any argument.  I take care of him, our home, do the laundry, cook the meals and everything else.  I don’t complain even though I am bone tired by the end of the day.  I make sure that his food is piping hot and ready when he comes home.  I don’t resist when he wants us to make love even though I’m not in the mood.

Yes, I have been a good wife to him.  Why then, does he hate me?  Why does he get angry for no reason and hit me?  In the past, when he hit me, he used to be sorry right after and beg me to forgive him.  Then, the beatings became more frequent and the apologies were less until they were no longer expressed.

Once he threatened to kill me if I left him.  So, I stay not out of love but out of fear.  How much longer could I live this nightmare?  How many more blows and insults can I take before I decide that leaving him is worth the risk?

I place my finger on my lips to silence the voice screaming inside me.  I am afraid of what would happen if I were to unleash it.  I have been living with an abusive husband and suffering in silence for six years.  I was beaten during pregnancy and suffered a miscarriage as a result.  I can’t have children because of the damage that was done.  My mother knew about it but still she insisted that I stay with Anil.  “A woman’s place is with her husband.  It’s against our religion for you to leave Anil and you will only bring shame to our family.”  She even made me think that it was my fault that Anil was beating me.  “He’s a good man.  You must be doing something to make him so angry that he beats you.”

So, I listened to her and I stayed.  I didn’t want to bring shame to our family.  That was two years ago.  One of these days, though, I am going to leave Anil and I don’t care if that brings shame to my family.  I don’t owe them anything.  They don’t care about me so why should I care about them?

I make a solemn promise to myself now on the eve of my thirtieth birthday, that one of these days, I will walk out of here and never look back.

Leaving an abusive marriage/relationship isn’t as cut and dry as many of us believe.  Women remain in these situations for various reasons–self-blame; damaged self-worth; fear; the desire to change the abuser; the children’s safety; family expectations and experiences; financial limitations and isolation.  Some women eventually leave while, sadly, others don’t.

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for Monday which is Needle. For more information, click HERE.

 

domestic-violence-awareness-1

Source:  Institute for Family Studies

Choices

nick-allen-from-sandra-c

PHOTO PROMPT © Nick Allen

She found him in the shed, sorting through old paint cans.  “I’ve decided to move back to Atlanta.”

He turned.  “Just like that.”

“What else do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to stay.”

“But what about Jamey?”

“Stay for his sake.”

“When I did the video about choosing life, I didn’t expect the attacks or the hate.”

“As a rape victim, they expected you to terminate your pregnancy.”

“But, I chose life–Jamey’s life.”

“You made the right choice.  Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

“I won’t.”

“So…?”

“I’ll stay.”

“Good choice.”

96 Words

This story was inspired by a true story of a rape victim whose decision to choose life made her the target of Abortion activists.

This was written for the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here. To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Rough to Romantic

Brie leaned her head against the back of the sofa.

The soft cushions were soothing against her tired

body.  It had been a long and very exhausting day.

Jasmine was especially cranky today because she was

teething.

 

Nothing she did seemed to work.  Desperate, Brie

had searched the Internet for teething tips and

tried them.  There was some respite but as soon

as Jasmine woke up, the fretful crying  began again.

Holding the wailing child in her arms, she called her

husband, Gabe and begged him to take home Infant’s

Advil.

 

It seemed to take forever for relief for both mother and

child to come but soon, the sound of the key turning in

the lock was music to her ears.  She went into the foyer

and as soon as Gabe stepped through the door, she

asked, “Where’s the Advil?”

 

He glanced down at the crying child and putting down

the briefcase, he took her in his arms, trying to soothe

her.  “It’s in the right pocket of my jacket.”

 

Eagerly, she reached into his pocket and took out the

life-saver, her fingers, gripping the package tightly.

“Thank you, Honey,” she said. “It will help with the

fever.”

 

Gabe’s eyes shot up to her face, alarmed.  “She has

fever?”  He felt her little face and it felt a bit warm.

 

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Brie assured him.  “They

said that sometimes a low grain fever can develop

with teething.  The Advil will relieve it and the pain.

I’ve been rubbing her gums with my finger and trying

other ways to relieve the pain.”

 

Gabe’s features relaxed.  “Okay, I’ll hold her while you

give her the Advil.”

 

After Brie gave Jasmine the Advil, she took her from Gabe

and went over to the sofa.  She sat down and gently rocked

her.  While Gabe removed his jacket and shoes.  He went

into the living-room and leaning over, he kissed Brie

on the shoulder.

 

“Once the baby is asleep, we can have dinner,” she said.

 

“All right,” he said.  “I’ll be in the study.”  He turned and

left.

 

Alone with Jasmine who was looking up at her with

big hazel eyes,  a tired smile tugged at her lips.  What

a beautiful baby she was.  It had been a text-book

pregnancy.  No morning sickness and a short labor.

 

She remembered how Gabe had held her hand as

she went into labor, encouraging her to do the

breathing exercises she had learned in the

Prenatal classes and the expression on his face

when he held Jasmine for the first time.  The love

she saw there had brought tears to her eyes.

 

He had reached over and kissed her, his own eyes

moist.  “Brie, you are my first love and Jasmine is

my second,” he murmured huskily when he drew

back to look at her.  “I called her Jasmine because

she’s a gift from God.”

 

“Yes, you are a gift from God,” Brie whispered now

as she watch those big, beautiful and innocent eyes

close, the long lashes brushing against the chubby

cheeks.  She until she was sure that Jasmine was

asleep before she slowly got up from the sofa and

tiptoed upstairs to the nursery.

 

After putting Jasmine down, she left the

door to the nursery slightly ajar and was

on her way down to the kitchen when she

noticed that the light in the master bedroom

was on.

 

Curious, she went inside and was surprised

to find Gabe standing in the bathroom stark

naked.  Immediately, she felt her body respond

and she went in and closed the door behind her.

His eyes darkened when he saw the look on her

face but, he said, “Let’s take a hot shower first.”

 

Nodding, she got undressed and stepped into the

stall.  He joined her and closed the door behind him.

The hot water beat down on them and it felt really,

really good.  She stood there under its force until

Gabe turned off the faucet.

 

She closed her eyes as she felt his hands lathering

the soap all over her body.  It was erotic and relaxing

at the same time.  Then, it was her turn to slather the

soap on him.  When she was done, he turned on the

faucet and they washed off.

 

They stepped out on to the mat and dried off. Taking her

by the hand, he led her into the bedroom and instructed

her to lie on her stomach which she did while he rubbed oil

on her.  She closed her eyes and relaxed. His fingers massaged

the oil into her skin. When she turned over, he joined her on

the bed and they made love.

 

Two hours later, they were sitting cross-legged on the rug in

the basement, having dinner and watching a classic movie.

The baby monitor was on the coffee table—just in case.

 

She turned to look at him.  “Thank you for turning a rough

day into a romantic night,” she said, leaning over to kiss him.

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”  They kissed and then she reached for her

glass of non-alcoholic wine.

 

Sources:  Mayo Clinic; Infant’s Advil

A Sobering Lesson

She fluffed the pillows and then reached for the mystery novel she bought yesterday, feeling nice and snug under the thick, downy comforter while it flurried outside.  Just as she opened the book and began reading, the doorbell rang.  At first she ignored it, thinking that someone had made a mistake.  It happened sometimes.  When it rang persistently, she sighed irritably, closed her book and climbed out of bed.  She glanced at the time on her alarm radio.  It was ten-thirty.  Who could be calling at her flat at this time?

She slipped her feet into her slippers, pulled on her robe and hurried from the bedroom.  After switching on the light in the hall, she went to the front door and peered out.  Her eyes widened in surprise and dismay.  Immediately, she unlocked the door and flung it open, her expression censorious as she met the sheepish gaze of her teenage nephew.  “Christopher Holloway, what on earth are you doing here?  Do you have an idea what time it is?”

He shifted from one foot to the other, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat which was lightly dusted with snow.  “I’m sorry, Aunt Bev,” he said.  “But, I had to see you.”

“Come in,” she said, stepping aside to let him pass.  After she closed and locked the door, she turned to face him.  “Does your Dad know that you’re here?”

He shook his head.  “He wasn’t even home when I left.  Sometimes he stays out late.”

“Well, we’re going to call him right now so that he can come and get you.  Do you have his cell number on you?”

He nodded and reluctantly gave her his cell after speed dialing the number.  She took the phone from him.  It ran a few times and then a deep voice answered.  “Christopher?”

“No, it’s not Christopher.  It’s Beverley.  He’s with me.”

“What?” was the incredulous exclamation.   “What on earth is he doing there?”

“I’m about to find that out.  Can you please come and get him?”

“Yes, yes, of course.  Where do you live?”

She gave him the address.

“I should be there in less than half-hour.”

“See you then.”

She handed Christopher his cell.  “Give me your coat,” she said.  He had already removed his boots.  “Your Dadis coming to get you.  Would you like something hot to drink?”

He shook his head.  “No thanks.  I grabbed a hot chocolate on my way over.”

“Let’s go into the living-room.  I want to know why you’re here and on a school night.”  While he went over to the sofa, she hung his coat up in the closet.  Then, she went and sat down beside him.  “What’s going on?  Did you have a fight with your uncle?

He shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “Dad is cool.  No, this isn’t about him.”

She could see that something was troubling and she became concerned.  “Tell me what’s on your mind,” she said gently.

“I’m in trouble,” he disclosed after a few minutes passed.  “I mean we’re in trouble.”

“Who’s we?”

“Tasha and me.”

“Who’s Tasha?”

“She’s a girl at school.  We hang out together.  I really like her.”

“What did you mean when you said that you were in trouble?”

“Well, you see, Tasha and I went to her house after school a few weeks ago.  No one was home.  We went down in the basement and hung out there.  We were talking and then we started kissing which led to—“

“You and Tasha had sex,” she said, trying not to get upset.  “You’re only sixteen years old.  You shouldn’t be having sex at your age.”

“Most of my friends have already had sex.  One of them had sex when he was fourteen.”

She closed her eyes almost afraid to ask.  “Is Tasha pregnant?”

“We don’t know.  Her period was late.”

“Has she done a pregnancy test as yet?”

He shook his head.  “That’s why I’m here, Aunt Bev.  Tasha’s too nervous to go to the drugstore.  She’s afraid of someone seeing her and telling her mother.  I was wondering—we were both wondering if you could pick up one for her and then we can come over here and she takes the test.”

Bev didn’t know what to do.  She felt like she would be going behind Tasha’s mother’s back if she were to agree to get the pregnancy test but Christopher was her nephew and he came to her for help.  “All right,” she said.  “I’ll pick the test up.  Can you bring Tasha here tomorrow after school?  I’m not working this week.”

He looked relieved.  “Yes, I can,” he said.  “She usually walks home from school but we can take the bus here.  Thank you, Aunt Bev.”

She looked at him.  “I hope for your sake that she’s not pregnant.  You’re way too young to be a father.”

He hung his head.  “I know.  Things got out of hand.”  He looked up at her.  “You won’t tell Dad, would you?”

“No, I won’t.  I will leave that up to you.”  The doorbell rang.  “That must be him.”  She got up from the sofa and went to answer the door.  It was Warner.  She opened the door and after they greeted each other, she led him into the living-room where Christopher was.

He went over to his nephew and hugged him.  “Are you all right?” he asked.

Christopher nodded.  “I’m all right.  I had to see Aunt Bev about something.”

“It’s getting late,” Warner said.  “And you have school tomorrow.”

Bev went and got Christopher’s coat and as he pulled it on, she turned to Warner.  “I told Christopher that he can come by again tomorrow after school, if that’s okay with you.”

He nodded.  “That’s fine.”  He took out a business card and scribbled something on the back.  “My cell number,” he said, handing the card to her.

She took it and put it in the pocket of her robe.  Christopher joined them and she hugged him.  “Goodnight,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, Aunt Bev.  And thank you.”

They drew apart and she preceded them to the door.  Christopher stepped out into the hallway and waited for his uncle.   Warner paused to look at her.  “Goodnight,” he said quietly, his eyes lingering on her face.  She wished she knew what he was thinking.  At that moment, her heart was burning with a love she longed to express but couldn’t.   The memory of her sister was between them as a reminder that she could never take her place.

“Goodnight,” she said, forcing a smile before she closed the door and leaned against it.  It was just her luck to fall in love with her sister’s husband.  She remembered the first time Gail brought him round to their parents’ home to meet the family.  She introduced him and then announced that they were getting married.  It was a small ceremony at a chapel and the reception was held at a banquet hall.  Seven months later Christopher was born.  Bev wondered why Gail never told her about Warner or that she was pregnant.  She never got the chance to ask her because just 24 hours later after giving birth to Christopher, Gail died.  Her untimely death was caused by a pulmonary embolism which stopped her heart instantly.

The memory of Warner holding their son who would never again be held by his mother remained with her.  Tears pricked her eyes even now.  She watched as Warner became both parents to Christopher and it was during that time when she realized that she was in love with him.  For years she kept her feelings to herself and was content to be there for both of them whenever they needed her.  And as a result, Christopher and she developed a very strong bond.

When he was a baby, she would sit in the rocker and feed him while humming or talking to him about his mother or his father.  She enjoyed those times when she bathed him and held him in her arms as she rocked him gently to sleep.  Sometimes, she would take time off from work just to be with him.  As he lay in his crib, she would play with him or read stories.  She was the closest thing he had to a mother.  She watched him grow up into a fine young man.  It was just too bad that this situation with Tasha came up now.

Sighing, she moved away from the door, turned off the hall light and headed back to her room.  She hoped that everything would work out for his sake and Tasha’s.  The last thing either of them needed was an unplanned pregnancy.  Yawning, she climbed into bed and after putting the mystery novel on the bedside table, she switched off the lamp.

The following day she made soup and when it was close to time for Christopher and Tasha to drop by, she turned the stove on so that it would simmer.  It looked very cold outside.  Nice, hot homemade soup would do them very well.  Earlier that morning she had gone to the drugstore to pick up the pregnancy test.  It was one of the most highly recommended ones.

At four-thirty, Christopher and Tasha showed up at her flat.  The minute she saw the girl, her heart went out to her.  She looked scared and worried. Putting her arm around her shoulders, she drew her over to the sofa where they sat down.  Taking her hands in hers, she spoke to her.  “I know you are scared but we don’t know for sure if you’re pregnant.  Here’s the test.  Take it and then we will go from there.  Come, I will take you to the bathroom.”  She helped her up and took her to the bathroom and after making sure she knew what to do, she left her, closing the door behind her.

Christopher was hovering about, looking anxious.  She reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.  “Whatever happens, we will deal with it together,” she said.

He nodded.  While they waited for Tasha, he held his aunt’s hand.  Several minutes passed and then Tasha came into the living-room.  She showed them the display.  There was one line.  “One line means I’m not pregnant,” she said.

Bev smiled.  “Well, that’s encouraging,” she said.

“What should I do now?” Tasha asked.

“Wait to see when your period will come.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

“Hopefully, it does but if it doesn’t, then, you will have to go and see you family doctor.”  She put her arm around her.  “This test is known to be extremely accurate.  It could be that your period is late because your cycle has changed.”

“I hope so.”

“Come you, two, I have some hot, homemade soup ready for you.  Have a seat around the table.  And after you finish eating, you can stay a while and then, I’ll take you home.”

They seemed to be in better spirits and they spent a pleasant afternoon together before she dropped them to their respective homes.  A couple days later, she got a call from Tasha telling her excitedly that she got her period.  “I never thought I would be so happy to see it,” she exclaimed.  “Thank you so much, Miss Martin for your help.  Now I know why Chris talks so much about you.  You’re really cool.  I told my Mom and she was upset, of course.  Chris and I talked about it and we’re not going to see each other outside of school.  We will be just friends.  Thanks again for everything.”

After she hung up the phone, Bev went over to the sofa and sank down heavily, relief washing over her.  She offered a silent prayer of thanks.  Now Tasha and Christopher could put the whole ordeal behind them and get on with their lives.  This pregnancy scare put things into perspective for both of them and they had made the wise decision to keep things platonic between them.  She wondered if Christopher had gotten around to telling Warner.  She hoped so.

The doorbell rang and she got up, her head still spinning from the good news.  It was Warner.  She opened the door, smiling.  “Hello,” she said.

He wasn’t smiling.  He looked very serious. “I came over to talk to you about two very important matters,” he said.

“Okay.  Come in.  Where’s Christopher?”

“He’s gone to the cinema with some friends.”

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“What did you need to talk to me about?”

“Christopher told me about Tasha last night.  I didn’t lecture him because I think he learned a very valuable lesson but we had a long and very frank talk.”

“I’m happy that he told you.  I didn’t think it was my place to do so.”

“I’m just thankful that things turned out well.  Thanks for being there for Christopher as always.”

She smiled.  “He knows he can count on both of us.”

His expression changed again.  “The other thing I wanted to talk to you about is far more personal.”

Something about the way he was looking at her made her heart race.  “What is it?”

He took a deep breath.  “I will just come out and say it,” he muttered.  “I love you, Beverly. I wanted to tell you that for very long time but just never worked up the courage until now.”

He was the only one who called her Beverly.  When he said her name, it felt like a caress.  She stared at him now, hardly able to believe that he was telling her that he loved her.  “I love you too,” she murmured.  “I fell in love with you the first time we met but kept it hidden because of Gail.”

“I cared for Gail but I didn’t love her.  I married her because she was pregnant.  I wanted to do the honorable thing.  When I met you it was hard but I was committed to Gail and our marriage.  If she were still alive I would still be married to her all the while loving you.”

“And I would have spent the rest of my life loving you,” she said.  “So, where do we go from here?”

He reached for her hand and drew her toward him.  “I want you to marry me.  Christopher needs you and I need you.  What do you say, Beverly, will you marry me?”

She nodded, “Yes,” she said through tears.  And then, her hand flew up to her mouth when he produced a box which he was holding in his other hand.

“Christopher helped me to choose this one,” he said opening the box and taking out the ring.  He slipped it on her finger.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

He reached up and cupped her face between her hands.  “Yes, but not half as beautiful as you,” he muttered before he lowered his head and kissed her.  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back, thinking how true the saying was that good things come to those who wait.

Sources: People.com; Check Pregnancy

 

 

 

Sources: People.com; Check Pregnancy;

The Joys of Motherhood

Surreal is finding out that I was pregnant.

Feeling a life grow inside me.

Having a textbook pregnancy, thanks to God.

The contractions that kept me from sleeping.

 

Surreal is when the moment I have been

waiting for finally arrives.  And no amount

of dreaming and anticipating could prepare

me for that breathtaking moment when I

see my baby for the first time and hold

that bundle of joy in my arms, my heart

almost bursting with the love that fills it.

 

 

Surreal is looking into those big, trusting eyes

and thinking, “I’m responsible for

this precious little one.”

Even now, I experience that sensation of

blessedness and incredulity that I have

a child who calls me, “Mommy.”

 

Surreal is being to only one of my

sisters to have a child and seeing

the joy on my mother’s face whenever

she sees her grandson.

 

Surreal is experiencing the joys of motherhood.

 

mom-and-son

Women and Mental Health

May 1-7 has been Mental Health awareness week.

One in three Americans struggles with mental illness but the rate is much higher in women.  Research shows that women are 40% more likely to develop depression than men.  It is not clear why mental illness is more common among women but doctors have come up with a number of possibilities.

Discrimination, Trauma and stressful life experiences

Trauma is common among women with half of them experiencing some form of trauma in their lifetime.  One in four women have faced an attempted or a completed sexual assault.  Reportedly, one in three are abused by a domestic partner.  Gender discrimination, violence and mistreatment undermine a woman’s mental health.  Stress is a predictor of mental illness.  Women juggle housework, kids even while working fulltime.  They report that they have to work harder to get the same credit as men and worry about the gender wage gap.  They have to deal with sexual harassment and discrimination in workplaces where these are commonplace.  These challenges can significantly affect a woman’s ability to cope and her self-esteem.

Hormonal Issues

Women produce lower quantities of serotonin than men due to differences in hormone levels and this deficiency can lead to mental health issues such as depression and anxiety.

Pregnancy, Birth and Parenting

41% or women suffer from some form of postpartum depression.  Some of them are overwhelmed by the demands of parenting, especially in the early days.  I remember that there were times when I felt that I was drowning–in over my head.  Once I even cried out while I was holding my toddler.  Thankfully I had God and a very supportive partner.  It helped when he came home and I had an adult to talk to. Not all women are as blessed.  Research shows that women who don’t have supportive partners, experience traumatic births, live in poverty or a highly stressed will most likely develop postpartum depression.  

Gender bias is another problem women face.  Some research suggests that doctors tend to label women’s symptoms as emotional while taking the men’s symptoms more seriously.  So, a woman who reports that she is experiencing chronic pain to her doctor might be labeled as depressed.  This happens because we live in a world where gender discrimination exists and women are seen as more emotional and less rational.  

In many countries, the way health workers spoke to the women made it difficult for them to disclose their psychological and emotional distress.  And when they worked up the courage to disclose their problems, they were either over-treated or under treated by many of the health workers.

I read in an article in The Globe And Mail that women are getting the prescription that is available more often than the treatment they need.  They are getting medication to solve their problems even when science finds that treatments such as psychotherapy is equally or in some cases more effective without the side effects.  Bias in mental health care is a hindrance to women, preventing them from getting the proper help they need.  Not much effort goes into researching how drugs affect female patients.  While drug companies like to bombard women with their pills, most of their clinical trials have been dominated by men.  And the ironic thing is that the disorders most commonly diagnosed in women such as depression, anxiety and insomnia are the ones most likely to respond to therapy.  Most women are likely to prefer therapy over drugs.  

According to Dr. Marina Morrow, a Simon Fraser University psychologist who studies gender and mental health, “Women aren’t getting access to the range of care they need.”  She believes that an effective approach to this would be to include medication when necessary but in also offer therapy, peer support and pinpoint what social circumstances lead to the illness.

It has been argued that therapy is the safer, more effective and cheaper choice.  The authors of a 2015 study by Canadian and U.S. researchers concluded that, “There remains no sound justification to prescribe drugs without first trying therapy.  Dr. Cara Tannenbaum, scientific director of the CIHR Institute of Gender and Health, believes that “the way we fund therapies in Canada does not make sense right now.”  She wrote a letter to Quebec’s health minister to make the point that even if 20 per cent of seniors with insomnia received Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) with is used to treat insomnia, the cost-savings to the system could be in the hundreds of millions, based on the potential falls that would be avoided.  Therapy saves on costly and debilitating falls and hip fractures.  

We live in a country where medication is favored over psychotherapy and women are more likely than men to be prescribed antidepressants and sedatives as seniors and as a result they are at a higher risk of suffering from adverse effects.  Hopefully more women and those in the medical profession will speak out against the bias that is prevalent in the mental health care.  Doctors and those in the health care system need to give women more choices when it comes to treatment.  It’s their health so they should have the right to determine how they want to proceed once they have been diagnosed.

depressed woman