*************************************
“A modern Nativity the old fashioned way”
(aka “Ostentatious Over-Sharings of a Smug
Git”)
Around this time last
year, an eagerly anticipated event came upon us – the birth of our daughter.
It was beautiful,
though not in conventional Hollywood terms. Like all newborns, her grey skin
was more “Shaun of the Dead” than “Casa Blanca”. I’ll spare you the analysis of
bodily fluids in the birthing pool.
 |
| Image: Shaun of the Dead, Dir: Edgar Wright, 2004 |
But the process of
giving birth really was beautiful – one of the greatest highs of my life. Not
just the “phew it’s all over and we have a baby” bit, the whole experience. And
that’s an unusual thing for a woman to say.
Why?
At this point, I get
on my feminist high horse.
In modern history,
patriarchal society has, I contend, embraced an image of the weak and helpless
woman, feeling faint in a corset and heels (this is not a bygone era – remember
Nicola Thorp, the receptionist sent home from PwC earlier this year for not
wearing heels?). Such delicate and lovely creatures cannot be expected to do,
well, hard labour.
Enter the men in white
coats with their trusty sidekick, technology.
“Lie on your back my dear while we strap you to this recording device,
give you pain relief rendering you immobile and then inevitably have to cut you
in some way to wrench the poor grey specimen out of you.”
This is the prevailing model of first world childbirth, talked about by
new mothers ad nauseam. The
competition for top horror story makes “Rosemary’s Baby” look like “Toy Story
2”.
 |
| Rosemary’s Baby, Roman Polanski, 1968 |
And women with a positive birth story can hardly speak up at these
coffee meets. Rule number 1 of the playground: when you’re making new friends,
try not to be the smug git. So women with positive birth stories remain the
silent. This does all women a disservice.
It takes courage to step outside the prevailing paradigm. I came under
pressure from the well-meaning family to have a hospital birth. This was
motivated by loving concern for our welfare, and in the context of the modern norm
is understandable.
But taking control of your choices is key to ensuring that you feel
relaxed and comfortable, and that you have the best chance of a gentle, natural
birth. Our mammalian cousin, the household cat, is renowned for shunning
birthing baskets meticulously prepared by owners, favouring instead the
solitude of the garden hedge.
 |
| Image source: Dailymail.co.uk |
The “hypnobirthing” movement, championed by Marie Mongan amongst others,
sounds whacky but has at its heart a simple physiological fact: as with all
mammals, if the mother is relaxed, the muscles of the womb will contract easily.
If the mother is tense and fearful, the muscles of the womb will not want to
contract. They will fight to remain closed to delay the birth until the mother
feels safe and secure – ‘out of the lion’s den’. This is likely to result in an
extended and painful labour.
I decided to create a ‘birthing nest’ in the front room of our house. My
husband surpassed himself with birth pool logistics (getting an inflatable
Jacuzzi filled with water that remains at a stable 37 degrees isn’t as easy as
it sounds), a perfect playlist (Max Richter’s “Sleep” amongst others) and a
veritable shrine of candles. Oxytocin, the hormone associated with love and
relaxation, was flowing and the birthing goddess was ready to emerge!
And she’d been training.
Realising the importance of a relaxed mind, I repeatedly listened to a
man (Phil Parker) telling me in deliciously rhythmic tones that I was going to
be “amazed by the easy…simple…and natural process of giving birth”.
 |
| Image source: www.prenatalyoga.com |
I also tried pre-natal yoga, which gave my pregnant body some vocabulary
to move with. For some years, I’ve ‘played’ Taoist Tai ChiÔ (www.taoist.org), a powerful tool for improving physical and psychological health. Tai
Chi teaches how to ‘let go’ in body as well as mind. The Chinese have the
concept of ‘yin’ force (the opposite of the ‘yang’ force), associated with the
empty, yielding, the ‘hollow’. It is the essence of feminine strength, the
heart of natural birth.
The second stage of labour (commonly referred to as the ‘pushing’ phase)
was long, because hypnobirthing teaches not to ‘push’. In breathing through
contractions (and don’t get me wrong, this was not a quiet experience - there were
many noises coming out of my mouth that choir girls have no use for), the baby
gently moves down. If the modern hospital birth scenario is akin to relieving
yourself at work as quickly as possible to avoid breaking wind in a board
meeting, this was akin to a relaxed Sunday morning experience with plenty of
time to read the weekend supplements.
Our baby was born gently into the water, did not cry and was calm and
alert during her first moments outside the womb. I also got off very lightly
from the experience (apart from several months of urinary incontinence, which
virtually all new mothers suffer from (why does nobody talk about this?)). There
was no inflammation to the lower spine, and the wonderful post-natal massage
therapist @beccyhands said she wished she could show my lower back to a room of
medics to demonstrate the benefits of a gentle birth without intervention.
In her brilliant book, “Birthing From Within”, Pam England explains how
in some cultures childbirth for women is held in the same regard as going to
war is for men: it is an intense and high risk experience from which you hope
to emerge bloody and victorious, shrouded in honour.
The nature of war is that you don’t always emerge victorious. Giving
birth is challenging. It’s bloody. It’s perhaps our closest shave with death. Many
have a tougher experience than I; and if I give birth again, I may not have
such good fortune.
If things do go wrong, thank goodness for the amazing staff of the NHS.
The Juniper Community Midwives were outstanding in the home care they provided
and I felt in very safe hands. Had things gone wrong, we were lucky enough to
have King’s College Hospital a short ride away.
As it was, we did not need a hospital bed, and the baby did not need to
be exposed to the increased infection risk from being outside the home. Many of
us in our jobs feel we need to be ‘busy’ and ‘doing’ as much as we can in order
to be effective. The community midwives understood that the less they
intervened, the more effectively they were supporting us.
So as with any battle, the reality of giving birth is likely to surprise.
But let this not stop us from training for the big day, eagerly anticipating it
and visualising a positive experience. And whilst I’m not advocating medals,
for the sake of future mothers, let’s not shy away from talking about our
beautiful victorious experiences. I dare say our men folk would!
