Birth of a girl child in Indian families-through the eyes of a paediatrician.
A greater part of our training and practise in general pediatrics is attending the process of childbirth. Be it a normal delivery, or the cesarean section surgery, the first ten minutes of a baby’s life are spent with us—the very few minutes that decide the physical and mental well-being of the babies’ entire lives. Our job is to make sure we follow a defined protocol and ensure the first breath taken by the baby is not only adequate but also sufficient and efficient to sustain life. After all the hassle-tassel of childbirth, when everything goes in the right direction, the set custom is to first show the baby with its gender to the mother and then the family outside, who are desperately waiting to see their descendant. But as many times I have done this, I can say for sure, that the difference in response from the families, that I see after showing a girl child or a boy child, is huge.
After I announce its a girl, I can see the subtle, and sometimes even frank frowning—the smiles turn upside down, worrisome glances are exchanged, consoling pats are given on the back of the father, while relatives console him saying things like—‘you can do next,’ or the seemingly funny suggestion of ‘you’re still young, a boy is waiting for you.’
When I was working in a government hospital, a majority of our patients belonged to the lower and middle economy group, with very high illiteracy rates.
Surprisingly, this look of disdain and doubt following the birth of a girl child was very rare. Now, I work in a posh South Delhi corporate hospital, and our patients are sometimes high-ranking lawyers, politicians, bureaucrats, and even celebrities. But the disappointment on that first look of a girl baby is so frequent, that it is ingrained in our daily routine. I convinced myself that this is but a preliminary shock and dies down slowly as the baby grows, but over the last seven years of my experience with corporate hospitals, I have personally seen the same patients creating a very biased environment for the child to grow, ignoring her growth, or delaying her hospital visits—something which they never do with a male child.
As unfortunate as this might sound, what tops this behaviour, is the birth of a second or a third girl child. I attended a normal delivery of a baby girl, and on knowing she had a second daughter, she broke down on the labour table— perhaps contemplating the taunts she might face. She looked away from me, not accepting that fate had bestowed on her another daughter! Her family, on receiving the news, started a fight that that was not their baby and they needed CCTV footage, followed by a disappointing denial and sad pats on the back.
A society, that cannot happily welcome the birth of a girl child, tends to create an environment that directly or indirectly propagates female foeticide*. In a 2017 press release by UNICEF, it was estimated that around 100’00 girl babies are killed every year in our country. In North India alone, the difference in deaths of girl babies as compared to boy babies, due to social behaviour, is substantially huge*. ( Bhattacharya S, Singh A. 'The more we change, the more we remain the same': female feticide continues unabated in India. BMJ Case Rep. 2017 Nov 23;2017 )
So, as a paediatrician, those subtle nuances and exchange of disappointed glances don’t go unnoticed. As I walk back from such families to my routine work, I cannot help but wonder, about the quality of life these girls would live; or how they would be treated in their adolescence, puberty, or adult life. Would they be given the right of gender expression or right to choice; or magnanimously judged if they broke from the mould they were put in—the very same mould, in which they were never wanted?
Even before I could gather my thoughts, I was called for another delivery. This time, a baby boy is born. A healthy, pink colour, chubby baby is welcomed with surprising gasps and sighs of relief by this other family. They hug each other, cry in happiness, and distribute sweets to each other and the hospital staff.
And amongst this chaos, the shy 4-year-old elder sister of the newly born boy baby stands behind this overzealous crowd—looking unsure, but anxious, holding her sleeve with her teeth in doubt and hidden excitement.
Her father brings her towards me holding the baby and introduces her to her younger brother.
‘Are they always this cute?’ she asked me in a soft voice.
And I could only say, “Yes, they are!”
Dr.Aheed Khan
Pediatrician and Neonatalogist based in Delhi
