Prompted by this profound image: https://en.zity.biz/gallery/image/267974

One of my special patients came in the other day with a concern. You know the ones I’m referring to, the ones who are always accompanied by their guardian and usually refer to him as Daddy or Sir. Or sometimes Mommy or Mistress.

In this case it was one of the former honorifics, as the concern was about being bred. She’d been with him for several months now and it was time for her to be bred, he explained. The “concern” became quite clear as the very use of the term “breeding” made her face go pale and her eyes began to take on the look of a hunted animal.

“She doesn’t seem too excited about the prospect, does she?” I asked him.

“She really doesn’t, and I really have no idea why. She’s just turned 19, and that’s hardly too young of an age, is it? After all, they used to plant their seeds in women far younger back in the day!”

I didn’t ask him to which “day” he was referring. It didn’t really matter, as this was merely a hurdle to overcome and his reasons were his alone. That being said, I have had many patients of such an age brought to me and successfully bred, but the reluctance of women of this age was not uncommon. Many still thought of themselves as mere girls, and never anticipated entering womanhood at this stage in their life. Personally, I blame the schools and all that social media giving girls such inappropriate expectations about such things as choosing their own age for bearing children, choosing their own friends, hobbies… some of them even want careers!

But I digress.

“Oh, it’ll be just fine, she’s just a bit ignorant of the whole process and has worries that her peers put into her head before she was put in your charge. She just needs a little education and to understand how these things work.”

She was reluctant at first, but after she was properly disciplined she did assume the position on the table, legs spread and in the stirrups. She balked again as I inserted the speculum so we switched to knee rests so I could restrain her in place properly. As I inserted the fetal simulator I explained to him what to expect.

“Once the device is in place and she simmers down, I’ll begin the program. Over the next 90 minutes it will increase in size until her natural instincts kick in and she needs to deliver it just as though it were a real baby. While she won’t enjoy the process overly much, by the time it’s all over with she’ll understand that as unpleasant as this business can be for all of us, she is the most important part of the process and that fighting is will only make it harder.”

For the next couple of hours, the exam room was filled with words of support and encouragement from him and not a small amount of crying and screaming from her. She seemed particularly put out when the device couldn’t clear the birth canal and I needed to do an episiotomy. Still, when all was said and done, she was far more clear on what would be happening over the coming months.

Most importantly, she learned that her dominant and I were in charge and had her best interests at heart. I feel quite sure that she won’t struggle so much in the future as I attend to her medical needs.