Cirque de Pee-Pee

It was about this time almost two weeks ago that I was in a hospital procedure room viewing something that I never thought in a million years I would actually witness.

I watched my newborn son’s circumcision.

Or as I prefer to call to it, the Cirque de Pee-Pee.

My two older sons were circumcised at my OB’s office and my husband and I were not allowed to be present during the procedure, so I was surprised when the attending pediatrician at our hospital offered to let me be in the room while he circumcised Daegan.

Because of our past experiences, I had a hunch that this probably wasn’t common practice, and my suspicions were confirmed when a friend of mine whose son sees the same doctor explained how laid back he is.

Apparently, the guy is a bit of a hippy.

So, of course, I took advantage of the opportunity and even invited my husband to join me in observing the event.

He gave me the “Are you crazy?” look.

Needless to say, I went alone.

I had a general idea of what was going to happen once we got into the procedure room, but I wasn’t exactly sure about the specifics. More importantly, I didn’t know how well the baby would handle it. I wanted to be there to make sure he wasn’t being tortured.

I know circumcision is not considered medically necessary, but my husband and I have elected to circumcise our boys for several different reasons. First and foremost, there is strong evidence suggesting that circumcision can help lower the chances of becoming infected with or transmitting certain STD’s.

Beyond that, I am down with Jenny McCarthy on the whole “pretty penis” issue. She had her son circumcised because, in her opinion, it just looks so much nicer. I couldn’t agree more.

Case in point, I used to find Harry Potter quite attractive…until I saw him naked in Equus.

That effectively ruined Daniel Radcliffe for me.

But back to the actual Snippety-do-dah…

Despite what I have heard some people say, it is not child abuse.

My son wasn’t tortured. In fact, I think he barely even noticed what was happening.

The nurse gave him a pacifier dipped in sugar water solution, which helped keep him calm while the doctor injected him with an anesthetic. His legs were held in place with loose Velcro straps, and the nurse gently held his arms (wrapped in a swaddle blanket) so he wasn’t restrained like a crazed prisoner, which is one of the things I had been most afraid of.

Once the anesthetic was administered, the baby seemed more interested in trying to fall asleep than in what was going on “down there”. The rest of the procedure was quick and easy. I was actually surprised about how simple the whole thing was.

It wasn’t the horrific experience that I had feared.

There were no tears, and my son now has that nice, clean-cut look.

Jenny McCarthy would be proud.

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