The other day I went to a class for couples that intend to have the father present at the birth with my wife. This is called tachiai shussan in Japanese. The mid-wife who was leading the class looked over at me hesitantly and asked if I could understand Japanese. I replied in the affirmative and, relieved, she continued with the class.
During the class the mid-wife taught us about breathing and how to cope with the pain and about how the father can help with massage and by encouraging and leading the mother through proper breathing. After the class we were treated to a tour of the birthing facilities and she told us about the general methods of the hospital like mother-baby rooming in, kangaroo care, and other things. She showed us that room I saw on TV and in movies were all the babies are put in plastic boxes on display. Of course, there were no babies because all the babies were rooming in with their mothers. Learning all this really put my wife and I at ease because this is just what we wanted.
At some other hospitals here in this same area the father is not allowed to be present at the birth, only allowed to be present at one of the check-ups and the babies do not room-in with the mothers. I feel very fortunate to be where we are. We didn’t know anything about the hospital’s policies before we decided to go there. It was just the most convenient hospital at the time and the same hospital where my wife’s sister gave birth to her last baby.
Later on that day I went to a doctor myself. The receptionist looked at me and asked, “Can you read?” I said “yes”, and filled out the questionnaire and waited my turn. Then I began to think about something that hasn’t bothered me in a long time. I am often asked if I can understand Japanese or read the Chinese characters used in Japanese when I am using city services, shopping or doing something else that requires me to interact with a Japanese where verbal communication and or reading or writing are concerned. Several years ago this bothered me. “Why don’t you just treat me like a normal human being!?!?” I thought to myself in frustration. Eventually I began to think of it in a different way that allowed me to ease my frustration. I began to realize and accept that there are many reasons why this happens. Of course the most obvious is that when a Japanese person looks at my face he or she assumes that I am not Japanese and therefore may not be able to speak, read or write Japanese. Japan went through hundreds of year of isolation from the outside world and the residents of her neighbors, when naked and shaved, look just the same as her own. While I was interacting with the receptionist I started to wonder how a person who was born and raised in Japan, who was Japanese, but who looked like I do, would feel being asked this same question all the time all of his life? When I was called in to the doctor’s office the doctor asked me “Can you understand Japanese?” and I said “yes.” Regardless of this short exchange the doctor tried to speak to me in English. I could understand his English but I could understand his Japanese much better. I don’t mind chatting in English but when something is important, like when I am speaking with the doctor, I want to understand him the best I can and I want him to understand me the best he can. If he is not capable of speaking English well, then some of the energy that he should be putting into helping me is being wasted as he struggles to speak English. I don’t know, perhaps I’m just touchy right now.
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