A Tale of Two Births

Mar19

As Penny Simkin has frequently noted: “We can’t control labor, whether it’s hard; that’s a leap of faith. But we can always control how we care for [the mother]” [1]

In 2001 and in 2004, I attended the births of two of my dear friend’s children in the same hospital in a mid-sized Midwestern city. I was not a childbirth educator or doula at this time, but was there in the capacity of friend and “witness.” Both births were intervention-heavy and not what I would call ideal, natural births; but the feelings were vastly different, which made all the difference.

At the 2007 LLL International conference in Chicago, I picked up several of these great "Listen to Women" buttons from the ACNM booth in the exhibit area. I love them. Isn't this what it is all about? So simple and yet so profound. Imagine how the world would change if we just listened to women.

One had an atmosphere of respect, caring and trust; the other had a “climate of doubt” throughout. The difference was a certified nurse-midwife (CNM). My commitment to homebirth midwifery often leads me to forget what a profound and true difference a caring CNM can make in a hospital birth. All the other hospital procedures can be present, but the care factor a CNM provides can transform a woman’s experience from powerless to powerful. Sometimes I forget how CNMs are poised to bridge the gap between home and hospital effectively. The US needs lots of them (not as subordinate “junior obstetricians”—but as expert guardians of normal birth in a hospital setting).

The details were similar in each birth. The babies were both almost 9 lb; a doula was present (same doula in both births); and the mother labored with an IV, spent a large portion of the labor in bed and had internal fetal monitoring. In the first birth (with the CNM), the mother even had several hours of Pitocin augmentation; in the second, with the obstetrician, she had no Pitocin until third stage. With each birth, the mother also had an extensive tear and long repair (a third-degree with the CNM, a second-degree with the obstetrician).

However, some things were very different.

When the mother said, “Can I have a birth ball?” the CNM said, “Yes,” and the obstetrician said, “Not until the baby has been monitored.” And then, “The baby doesn’t like that; you need to get back into bed.”

When the mother’s confidence waned, the CNM said, “You can do it. You are.” The obstetrician said, “I don’t think this baby is moving down.”

When the mother said, “This is taking such a long time,” the CNM said, “I know. It is taking for-freaking-ever!” and everyone laughed (including the laboring mother). The obstetrician said, “I think we should consider a c-section based on your history. The baby is not moving down.”

The CNM said, “You have such strong muscles in your legs and bottom, do you exercise a lot? I think because you are so strong, you’re holding a lot of tension here. Try to let it go.” The obstetrician ironed the perineum until the mother screamed with pain.

The CNM waited. The obstetrician did another internal check.

In both, a baby was eventually born (the first after four hours of pushing, the second after a little over an hour). A strong, healthy baby. Vaginally and without pain medications. After the first birth—though she would have done some things differently—my friend felt triumphant, empowered, powerful, strong, capable, happy and proud.

After the second birth she felt abused, disappointed, ashamed, guilty, angry, assaulted, diminished, wounded and scarred.

I believe the CNM’s personality, attitude and basic belief that vaginal birth would work was the critical difference between these two experiences. These births dramatically, viscerally illustrated for me that no matter what else is happening around the birthing woman, we can control how we care for her.

Endnote: My friend went on to have her third baby at home in 2008. She pushed this baby out in fifteen minutes, with no tear, and she shone with her power.

Molly Remer, MSW, ICCE, CCCE is a certified birth educator, writer, and activist who lives with her husband and children in central Missouri. She is the editor of the Friends of Missouri Midwives newsletter, a breastfeeding counselor, a professor of human services, and a doctoral student in women’s spirituality. She blogs about birth, motherhood, and women’s issues at https://talkbirth.me/posts.

[1] Looking to nature, doula Penny Simkin practices the art of delivery, in The Seattle Times, Pacific Northwest Cover Story. Originally published March 23, 2008. Accessed April 27, 2009. http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/pacificnw/2004299467_pacificpenny23.html.

This is a preprint of A Tale of Two Births, an article by Molly Remer, MSW, ICCE, published in Midwifery Today, Issue 91, Autumn 2009. Copyright © 2009 Midwifery Today. Midwifery Today’s website is located at: http://www.midwiferytoday.com/

Woman Rising

Mar14

No time for a long post today (or, probably, this week), so I share this quote I had saved from the book A Dozen Invisible Pieces by Kimmelin Hull (p. 229):

“When faced with behavior battles, health concerns, family finances, and the struggle to stretch time to the fullest, I could choose to sink into the quicksand of life with young children–becoming engulfed in the daily grind, unaware of my own loss of self–or I could rise to the occasion. And I am rising.”

Hull goes on to share the following:

“Whether it be the thick memory of enduring a non-medicated labor and finally pushing our third child into the world, despite feeling as though I hadn’t an ounce of energy left, or the meager sprint I managed as I neared the finish line of the marathon…, I hold tight to these images as proof that I can and will be able to rise to the occasion–again and again, if and when I need to-–because the ability to do so is in my very bones. Because I am a woman.” [emphasis mine]

The birth face, immediately following birth of second son. This feeling--this crying, laughing, euphoric, I DID IT, feeling is the one I draw upon in the rest of life.

This is one of things I find so powerful about women’s birth memories—they can hold onto them as a touchstone, as an affirmation of strength and personal capacity, during other challenging (or mundane) moments of their lives. I also don’t think births have to be “empowering,” natural, or unmedicated births in order to hold this affirmation for women. There is a lot of courage to be found in most birth journeys and the ability to find moments of powerfully conscious strength to draw nourishment from in the rest of life exists in many types of birth experiences. Personally, my birth experiences created a lasting sense of personal worth, that I have drawn from ever since. This includes the birth of Noah, which was not a “happy ending” to my pregnancy. In the months after his birth, I found myself at many times thinking, “I gave birth to my little, nonliving baby alone in my bathroom, I can do this too.” I did the same with the births of my other two boys—only thankfully without the “nonliving” part. Alaina’s birth is more “integrated” somehow, and I don’t find myself thinking about it or referring to it in quite the same way, though I’ve definitely had moments of remembering, “I caught my own baby, I can do this too!“

An Act of Motherhood

Mar5

Some time ago I read a clever essay by Jeannie Babb Taylor called “May, 2052.” It is about birth in the future and is told from the perspective of a grandmother who gave birth in 2007, sharing with her granddaughter how birth was “back in the day” and the granddaughter being shocked by how horrible the birth climate was in the “old days” of 2007). Side note: in some ways this story reminds me of a piece that I reprinted with permission of LLL called A Fantasy, which is a satire about birth and breastfeeding that I’m still not convinced won’t actually come to pass.

Feeling fierce at 37 weeks last year.

However, I was struck afresh by the power of the closing lines in May, 2052 (when discussing how/why things finally changed):

We insisted on dignity. We did not let doctors push us into inductions or surgeries just to accommodate their schedules. Women who still used hospitals refused the wheelchair and the gown that were presented at check-in. Women refused to be starved, or to have their veins punctured with unnecessary IVs. Mothers refused to let doctors break their waters or insert electronic monitors in the baby’s scalp. When we pushed our babies into the world with our own fierce power, then we refused to let them out of our sight.

…Eventually even the medical community came to recognize that birth is an act of motherhood, not an act of medical science. Today a laboring woman is not regarded as a body on a table, as if she and the baby needed some doctor to ‘deliver’ them from each other. Today women are honored as life-bringers.

Don’t you just love that? Recognizing that birth is an an act of motherhood, not an act of medical science… So true.

I can’t write about it in-depth, but I began thinking about this today after speaking with a mother who had received very, very questionable (to the point of thoroughly bizarre) breastfeeding advice from her doctor. When I could not help but express my dismay at the suggestions she had received, I had the distinct feeling that she was not able to even consider that possibility that her doctor might have been wrong. I wish I could write about the actual circumstance because it just boggled my mind and made my heart cringe. Breastfeeding too is an act of motherhood, not an act of medical science, and not one that “belongs” to anyone except for the motherbaby unit.

However, returning to the act of motherhood, vs. medical act, I also have this quote saved from the older book, Who Made the Lamb:

“Tom [her husband] laughed at this idealism. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said, ‘Pregnancy is not regarded as a process of creation. It’s a disease of the uterus.'” [emphasis mine]

What a (culturally) still true and unfortunate sentiment: A disease of the uterus. This is absolutely how many within the medical system and the general population continue to view pregnancy (and birth is the excavation of the disease). This reminds me of our “friendly” neighborhood doctor testifying at the Capitol against the midwifery bill several years ago stating that pregnancy can be viewed as a foreign object in the body and therefore “babies are like tumors that need to be removed.”

I look forward to the day when our acts of motherhood are celebrated and valued, the motherbaby bond is accepted as inviolable, and pregnancy is a state of health and well-being.*

—-

Note: I am aware that pregnancy and birth take a physical toll on most women and that for some pregnant women, “disease of the uterus” might feel like an apt descriptor—I’m speaking in more general terms of the emotional and cultural climate surrounding pregnancy and birth.

Birth Quotes of the Week

Mar2

Quotes that recently caught my eye…

“Your own wisdom is more powerful than anything you see around you. The price for living your dream is facing your deepest fear; ask yourself ‘What am I afraid of most?’ Facing your answer is the price of greatness.“–@Roots of She

“In acknowledging woman-to-woman help it is important to recognize that power, within the family and elsewhere, can be used vindictively, and that it is not only powerful men who abuse women; women with power may also abuse other women.” –Sheila Kitzinger

“A woman who is enjoying her labor swings into the rhythm of contractions as if birth-giving were a powerful dance, her uterus creating the beat. She watches for it, concentrates on it, like an orchestra following its conductor.” –Shelia Kitzinger

“If you have never been called a defiant, incorrigible, impossible woman… have faith. There is yet time.” –Clarissa Pinkola Estes (via @Roots of She)

“Pregnancy is a uniquely intimate relationship between two people. All of us luxuriate in this relationship once, and half of us are lucky enough to be able to do it all over again a second time, from the other side as it were. Never again outside of pregnancy can we be so truly intwined with someone else, no matter how hard we try.” -David Bainbridge

“We must not, in trying to think about how we can make a big difference, ignore the small daily differences we can make which, over time, add up to big differences that we often cannot foresee.” –Marian Wright Edelman

—

Reading this last quote made me remember my Small Stone Birth Activism article and so I posted it yesterday!

The Rest and Be Thankful Stage

Feb26

During my first labor, I experienced what Sheila Kitzinger calls the “rest and be thankful stage” after reaching full dilation and before I pushed out my baby. The “rest and be thankful stage” is the lull in labor that some women experience after full dilation and before feeling the physiological urge to push. While commonly described in Kitzinger’s writings and in some other sources, mention of this stage is absent from many birth resources and many women have not heard of it. After writing recently about the spontaneous birth reflex, I received a comment stating the following: “I was particularly interested in the idea of resting after full dilation before pushing. This makes sense if you are only following your body’s urges to push, but never something I had seen (or remember seeing?) spelled out before.”

I always make sure to tell my birth class clients about the possibility of experiencing a lull like this, because it is during this resting phase that labor is sometimes described as having “stalled” or as requiring Pitocin to “kick it off again” or as requiring directed or coached pushing. Also, think of the frequency of remarks from mothers such as, “I just never felt the urge to push.” When exploring further, it is often revealed that what the mother actually experienced was no immediate pushing urge instantly following assessment of full dilation. Depending on the baby’s position, this can be extremely normal. The way I explain it to my clients is that the lull represents the conclusion of the physiological shift happening in the uterus—the transition between contractions that open the cervix and the contractions that push the baby down and out.

As I wrote in a previous post from several years ago:

Your uterus is a powerful muscle and will actually push your baby out without conscious or forced effort from you–-at some point following complete dilation your body will begin involuntarily pushing the baby out. Many women experience the unmistakable urge to push as an “uncontrollable urge”–-but, in order to feel that uncontrollable urge, you often have to wait a little while! Though some care providers and nurses encourage you to begin pushing as soon as you are fully dilated there is often a natural lull in labor before your body’s own pushing urge begins. Some people refer to this lull as the “rest and be thankful” stage. It gives your body a chance to relax and prepare to do a different type of work (in labor the muscles of your uterus are working to draw your cervix up and open. During pushing, the muscles of your uterus change functions and begin to push down instead of pull up). If you wait to push until you really need to, you will often find that your pushing stage is shorter and progresses more smoothly that pushing before you feel the urge.

In the book, Our Bodies, Ourselves: Pregnancy and Birth they share the following important point:

“Research suggests that the length of time before the baby is born is the same if you allow one hour of ‘passive descent’ of the baby (when you relax and don’t consciously try to push) or you start pushing immediately after you are fully dilated.”

via Waiting before pushing… « Talk Birth.

That’s right, the length of time between full dilation and baby’s birth is the same, whether the mother waited one hour before pushing, or started pushing without the urge immediately following full dilation. I know which one sounds easier and more peaceful to me!

In my own experience with my first baby, I found that I felt like I should be pushing after full dilation and thus began to do so before feeling the full urge. I ended up pushing for about an hour and fifteen minutes. I suspect if I’d just continued hanging out for 45 minutes to an hour, he may have flown out in 15 minutes. Prior to pushing though, I did experience a rest and be thankful stage of about 30 minutes in which I sat in a rocking chair, joked about feeling “trippy,” and talked about being an A++ birthing woman. I describe it in my son’s birth story:

After finding out that I was fully dilated, I started to feel very odd and I really think I had to go through a sort of emotional/psychological transition to adjust myself to the fact that I had “missed” the physical transition point…I sat in the rocking chair for a while and kept saying things like, “am I dreaming? Is this real?” I also made a joke about feeling “trippy” like in Spiritual Midwifery. We also joked about what an A+ + + laboring woman I was (a family joke–I was a 4.0 student throughout college and grad school and so we always say that I like to get an A+ + + on everything I do). Those pressure feelings I had been having for a while, got a little more intense and I started pushing kind of experimentally. I was on my knees with my head on the bed on my pillow again and during one of the little pushes my water broke with a giant, startling POP and sprayed across the room including all over my friend. At this point, the midwife left saying, “I think I should call the doctor.” via My First Birth « Talk Birth.

The blog Birth and Baby Wise has some great thoughts to share on resting and being thankful (note the blog is from an educator in London, thus the use of the term Syntocinon, rather than the U.S. based brand Pitocin):

… it seems that there is little appreciation for this well documented pause amongst health professionals working in the consultant-led units of hospitals. Any stop in action once the magic ’10 cm dilatation’ is reached is met with almost instant medical intervention to get the contractions back up and running, ie a syntocinon drip. Women experiencing this are already on a consultant-led unit, where a higher level of medical intervention can be anticipated, but it is strange that there seems to be such a rush to use a syntocinon drip to get the contractions going again, providing mother and baby are both coping well.

One reason the contractions may ease temporarily is in order to allow the baby’s head to get into a better position. If this is the case, then artificially speeding contractions up is hardly likely to have the benefit of a faster birth for the woman – if anything, a slower and more complicated birth as she tries to push out a baby that is not quite in the right position. In addition, she has to cope with stronger contractions that she might find difficult to deal with, necessitating further medical help in the shape of an epidural – which in turn makes pushing the baby out even harder…

…At this stage, the woman and her partner are incredibly vulnerable to this well meant ‘help’ from midwives and obstetricians and are unlikely to question the requirement for additional medical help. It is also unlikely that the calm and relaxed environment so important for a peaceful birth can survive the worries of the health professionals, which will affect most women and their partners. via Rest and be thankful – or panic and have a drip shoved in? | Birth and Baby Wise.

I agree. In my own personal experience with my first birth, I was very vulnerable to just the perceived expectation of it being “time to push.” With later babies, it was intensely important to me that I have very few people present at the birth, knowing how sensitive I am to the expectations of those around me. It is truly only my husband and my mother than I trust to not disrupt my “birth brain” and the freedom of my birth space.

I’d love to hear more from readers about their experiences with the rest and be thankful stage.

Did you experience this lull between full dilation and pushing out your baby?

Was the lull recognized and respected by your birth attendants?

If you pushed without feeling the urge, was the pushing stage fairly long?

With subsequent babies, I had no internal checks during labor, so I never really knew if I experienced the rest and be thankful stage with them. I just pushed when my body started pushing—I have no idea how long after full dilation that was. So, I also am curious to know if women find they experience this stage with all babies, with only the first one, or with only some of their babies?

I suspect I did experience it with Alaina, because I remembering feeling concerned that contractions were suddenly “far apart.” I started talking more and analyzing myself and the labor and this was probably part of a lull in the intensity of the contraction action while my body prepared for a powerful spontaneous birth reflex.

Spontaneous Birth Reflex

Feb24

“Why do we, then, continue to treat women as if their emotions and comfort, and the postures they might want to assume while in labor, are against the rules?“

– Ina May Gaskin (via Birth Smart)

I’ve been intrigued for some time by Michel Odent’s description of what he calls the “fetal ejection reflex.” Personally, I would like to rename it the “spontaneous birth reflex.” Essentially, this reflex involves the spontaneous birth of the baby without coaching or conscious effort on the part of the mother. It is most likely to occur when the mother feels very safe and very private, which may be why we do not read descriptions of it occurring during many births. In an article about the fetal ejection reflex Odent writes: “During the powerful last contractions the mother-to-be seems to be suddenly full of energy, with the need to grasp something. The maternal body has a sudden tendency to be upright. For example, if the woman was previously on hands and knees, her chest tends to be vertical. Other women stand up to give birth, more often than not leaning on the edge of a piece of furniture. A fetus ejection reflex is usually associated with a bending forward posture.”

Flicked forward hips?

In the book Optimal Birth: What, Why & How, which was heavily influenced by the work of Odent, the author frequently describes spontaneous birth reflex occurring with a swift “flicked forward” motion of the mother’s hips. I found the description curious at the time that I read the book, not really conceptualizing how one would flick one’s hips forward when pushing out a baby. However, following the birth of my daughter last year, I was completely amazed to hear my husband describe the pushing stage in these words, “…you were down on your hands and knees, but then you pushed up and moved your hips forward and suddenly you were holding her.” I would describe her birth as involving an authentic spontaneous birth reflex much like Odent and Sylvie Donna (the author of Optimal Birth) describe. This is what I wrote three days after her birth:

Shortly following a spontaneous birth reflex!

I was down on hands and knees and then moved partially up on one hand in order to put my other hand down to feel what was happening…her head pushed and pushed itself down as I continued to support myself with my hand and I moved up onto my knees, with them spread apart so I was almost sitting on my heels and her whole body and a whole bunch of fluid blooshed out into my hands… I didn’t realize until some moments later than both Mark and Mom missed the actual moment of her birth. Mark because he was coming around from behind me to the front of me when I moved up to kneeling…I had felt like the pushing went on for a “long” time, but Mark said that from hands and knees to kneeling with baby in my hands was about 12 seconds.

via Alaina’s Complete Birth Story « Talk Birth.

Birth without pushing?

I’ve been meaning to write about the experience for some time and then I received a comment on an older post I wrote titled Pushing the issue of pushing in labor… which addresses physiological pushing vs. coached/directed pushing. The mother wrote: “I would so love to give birth without pushing..I hope I can do this without pushing but is it really possible?? If it’s possible, why isn’t it practiced more widely?”

While I did not experience such a dramatic spontaneous birth reflex with any of my other births, Yes! It IS possible. There are a variety of reasons why it is not practiced more widely, two common ones being that many mothers do not give birth in the atmosphere of privacy that facilitates the reflex and secondly because many birth attendants ascribe to the notion that 10 centimeters of dilation = time to push, regardless of what mother’s body is telling her to do. With my own first baby, I was checked at 10 centimeters and told I could push whenever I felt the urge. While no one coached or directed me to begin pushing, I felt like I “should” be doing so and so start to experiment with actively pushing a little with contractions. It took a little over an hour before my son was finally born. I never felt an intense or irresistible or spontaneous urge to push. With my second baby, I felt literally driven to my knees by the force of the birthing energy. I did not consciously push him out, but it definitely took several pushes and maybe about 15 minutes to push him out. There was a process of pushing involved with his birth. With my daughter, as I describe above, it was like an irresistible force gripped my body and she just came flying out with no directed physical or mental involvement from me.

Trusting the urge

I shared the mother’s question with the CfM Facebook page in order to get some other perspectives on births with “no pushing.” I received several comments to share with the questioning mother-to-be. Most mothers referenced the idea of pushing when their bodies told them to. It is difficult to communicate this with someone who has not yet experienced it—how to recognize the “urge” and what it really means to “push when your body tells you to.” I also suspect it is frustrating for women who are honestly and courageously seeking “answers” in order to best prepare their bodies, minds, and hearts for birth, to receive responses like, “just trust your body,” which can feel trite or dismissive to the pregnant woman who hungers to know. However, then once on the other side of the birthing bridge, we discover there are really few better answers to give. I believe the capacity to trust that her body will communicate the unmistakable urge to push comes with an environment where the mother is treated with dignity and respect. She has her need for privacy honored and that she is mentally able to surrender to the birthing process and let her body take over—no attempting to wrestle with or control the birth, but to dig deep and then to let go.

Personal experiences in birthing without pushing:

ARA shared: “I will say that with my last birth I started out with having coached pushing. Then I felt my body take over. The nurse told me to stop pushing and I told her I can’t my body is doing it on it’s own. It was the most awesome feeling in the world.”

And AK shared: “I pushed when my body said to do so. It was relieving!! lol”

EW wrote that she, “highly recommend physiological pushing over directed pushing. listen to your body. Consider hypnobirthing if you are wanting to birth without pushing, it encourages laboring down.”

DF had this experience to share: “I don’t know if this is the same thing but with my first child, the nurse didn’t listen to me when I said I thought it was time and when my midwife came to check I was crowning, I had ‘labored down’ as she called it by my body doing the work. So I only actually pushed once on her cue and my baby was here. The second child the same happened automatically I wasn’t even aware it was happening…..maybe subconsciously?”

NB shared that, “Because of my uterine prolapse issues, I do not push until the baby is essentially crowning on his own. I also don’t have anyone check to see how far dilated I am (since baby #1, that is) so when that burning feeling starts to get really strong I try a gentle little push to see what happens, and that usually initiates complete crowning… at which time, despite my best efforts, I CANNOT control the pushing urge any longer because I need to get that baby out!! 😉 I think it does make ‘transition’ longer in the sense that perhaps birth would have happened earlier if I’d begun pushing before the baby slid down that far on his/her own, but it makes the pushing stage much shorter and is certainly better for the baby – and me, too, since I’m not putting that strain on my uterine ligaments until the very last seconds.”

JD shared her different experiences: “With my first baby, I felt the need to push waaaay too early. (Baby turned posterior; I had back labor contractions less than a minute apart for several hours.) I spent over an hour pushing, but I can’t blame the wonderful midwives who attended my homebirth. They told me several times that it wasn’t time to push yet. But I was in so much pain, and had exhausted all my coping strategies, and just had to get that baby OUT! Then we had a dystocia, and everybody ended up yelling at me to push even though I wasn’t having a contraction, and my very calm, collected midwife sounded worried, so I pushed some more. Lots of pushing, lots of pain, lots of tearing. My second baby was smaller and lined herself up better. I didn’t push until the very end, and she came in a big hurry and surprised everybody. Nobody told me to push, and I barely needed to. So, yes, it can be done, but there are more factors at play than your doctor/midwife. I had two very different pushing experiences, both at home with the same midwife.”

G wrote: “Unmedicated, midwife-assisted home birth, pushed for 3 hours, never really got the hang of it. Baby was not quite lined up right and was stuck, crowned, for an hour. I was exhausted and basically checked out. Eventually it was gravity that got him out – they hauled me upright and he basically fell out of me. I look back and wonder if maybe I should have taken more of a break after dilation – I FELT like I was ready to push, but who knows if I actually was. Maybe he would have labored down on his own if I’d just zonked out.”

Why isn’t it encouraged?

I’ve already addressed several reasons why and then LDM shared these important points: “It’s not widely practiced because the obstetric timetable doesn’t allow for it. The physiological urge to push will be there, for some women sooner than others. Most care providers are taught to coach pushing (after all we all know women just can’t do the job they were designed to do) and to have that coached pushing happen under certain conditions (wait for the dr! Ok, doc is here!) Some women say they never felt any urge- they may have had normal physiological signals quelled from drugs or other common labor practices and/or they were not given time to rest and sleep after fully dilating. There is such urgency to force a baby out once she reaches 10, but if she is tired and cannot feel her body pushing, then mom probably needs a nap & maybe a snack. Letting a woman take that break is unheard of in hospitals.”

And additionally, Mommy Baby Spot offered this tip: “Stay away from “helping” drugs so that your body knows what to do and learn different positions so that your body puts itself in the prime position to get the baby out with the minimum of hassle (which is different for everyone).”

I thank the women who shared their experiences for their thoughts and I wish the mother who posed the question the very, very best with her upcoming birth. May you birth smoothly, peacefully, and spontaneously in harmony with your body’s wisdom, cues, and urging!

—

(Note: personal experiences are reprinted directly as shared on the CfM FB page, but have had some spelling corrected for readability.)

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Birth Plan Item #1: Leave My Cervix Inside My Body!

Feb11

Some time ago I read several articles in Midwifery Today about birth in the Ukraine. Apparently, it is a routine practice immediately postpartum to use two “shoe horn” shaped devices to pull the cervix out of the woman’s body to examine. Yes, I think that warrants repeating–manually pulling out the cervix to look at! (no pain medications). This is so patently horrible and unnecessary that I had a visceral response to reading about it–my uterus hurt.

U.S. maternity care routines

However, as I reflected on my reaction, I began to wonder if the practice is any more strange or disturbing that some U.S. maternity care routines? I still feel like cervix-pulling-out ranks pretty high on the horrible factor, but I also recognize that it is filtered through my cultural lens of what I’m used to—“normal” (i.e. culturally acceptable) birth practices in the U.S. (such as Pitocin injection immediately following most normal births regardless of indication and so on and so forth). We have any number of questionable medical care practices in this country too, but because I’m used to them they register as “normal.” Of course, this doesn’t mean I approve of them or fail to notice that they are not evidence-based, but I accept them as possible occurrences and I’m certainly not surprised to read about them over and over again, or shocked when my clients experience them during their births.

One of the articles was about birth in a Ukrainian “birth house” and the other was a composite of observations about birth in the Ukraine in general. Sometimes there is a tendency amongst midwifery supporters to romanticize birth and midwifery care in other countries and to vilify the U.S.—if you are a Ukrainian woman, this is clearly misplaced!

My first thought when reading the essays was, “Wow! The U.S. system isn’t so terrible after all!” But then, I tried to imagine the U.S. birth culture seen through completely fresh eyes, as I had just viewed the cervix-pulling technique. How would facets of hospital birth care in the U.S. appear to me if I was just hearing about them for the first time? As gross human rights violations?

Though I cannot make it have the same raw emotional and physical shock to me as cervix-pulling-out, I can only imagine how an episiotomy might sound to my imaginary fresh eyes: “then the doctor took some scissors and cut through the skin and muscles at the base of the woman’s vagina.” Or, the same with the not uncommon addition of, “as she begged ‘please don’t cut me! No!'”

I also read with sadness and dismay about the emotional maltreatment of Ukrainian women in labor and how (in hospitals) they are frequently denied the companionship of their husbands. Is this really more awful than women being coerced into unnecessary cesareans or even more basic, being denied food and drink throughout their labors? No, not really, just less familiar.

What do all women deserve?

While it is nice to recognize that there are things that women birthing in U.S. hospitals can be very grateful for, there is not an official continuum or hierarchy of “better” bad things to happen to birthing women regardless of country of residence. Humanized care is humanized care. Women worldwide deserve a safe environment, a respectful caregiver, continuous emotional support, physically responsive care, evidence-based medicine, and to have their cervixes and uteruses left inside their bodies.

—

(P.S. In case anyone is interested, “cervices” or “cervixes” and “uteri” or “uteruses” are both acceptable plurals)

All That Matters is a Healthy Husband (or: why giving birth matters)

Feb10

It is your wedding day. You have been planning this day since you got engaged nine months ago. You are happy, excited, and a little nervous. When you get to the church, you are told that it is necessary to switch your wedding to the courthouse instead—it is disappointing, but the minister’s assistant reminds you that the courthouse is probably a safer location for your wedding because there are more people on staff there to handle any problems that might arise. When you arrive, you are told that your minister isn’t going to be there for the ceremony after all, but there is a perfectly good justice of the peace available instead.

You ask when the ceremony can begin and the clerk tells you not until your fiancé’s heart rate has been monitored for twenty minutes—“We need a baseline strip on him, hon. After all, you do want a healthy husband out of all this, don’t you?!” she says.

You are asked to change out of your wedding gown and into a blue robe. When you express your dismay, you are reminded that your dress could get messy during the wedding and also, “Why does it really matter what you’re wearing? In the end you’ll have your husband and you’ll be married and that’s really what counts.”

Next, the clerk starts an IV in your hand because, as she explains, you might get dehydrated while you wait for your fiancé.

“I have my favorite juice here, I’ll drink that instead,” you reply.

“No, no dear. No juice. You could aspirate it and die if you end up needing surgery.”

“SURGERY!” you exclaim, “Why would I need surgery? I’m just getting married!”

The clerk gives you a knowing glance, “Honey, about forty percent of women who get married here need surgery before their marriages are finalized. This is an excellent courthouse! We do everything possible to make sure you have a healthy husband when you leave here. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes,” you reply weakly.

Finally, the other clerk signals that your fiancé is ready. You turn to look at him and see that he has a monitor strapped to his chest to monitor his heart rate and that he has an electrode on his scalp. You smile at him and prepare to say your vows—you’ve waited for this moment for so long! But, as you begin to speak, the clerk tells you to stop making so much noise. You start to cry in confusion and embarrassment and she tells you that you really need to get control over yourself.

She calls over several other clerks who stand near you and they all begin chanting loudly, “Say I DO! Say I DO!”

“Wait,” you protest, “What about our vows?”

“No time for that—you’ve got to get married as quickly as possible. Husbands can only bear to stand at the altar for a short time before they start showing signs of distress—you wouldn’t want anything to happen to your husband would you? Now, say ‘I DO,’ say ‘I DO’!!”

So, you say the words, feeling a sense of dismay at it not being like you had planned, but excited to finally be married to your beloved. You turn to your new husband and reach out for him eager for your first married kiss, but the clerk grabs his arm and tugs him away after her.

“Wait!” you call, “I want to see my husband!”

“Sorry,” is the reply, “He needs to be taken to the new husbands’ lounge for observation.”

“Observation of what?”

“Weddings are stressful for husbands; we need to make sure he is all right. Now wait here, while the other clerk brings you a wheelchair to take you to your waiting room.”

Instead of leaving for your honeymoon, you end up staying at the courthouse for three days. You keep asking to see your husband, but the clerk tells you he needs to gain some weight before he can leave and that he also needs some more blood drawn. She also lets you know that he has finally stopped complaining about his spinal tap.

Spinal tap?! Your dismay shows on your face and she tells you, “Come on! You’ll be married for the rest of your life! A few hours of separation isn’t going to hurt either one of you. You’ll have plenty of time with him after you get home and will probably just get fed up with him then! What really matters now is that your husband is healthy.”

“Yes, of course…”

Finally, you get to go home, but you feel distant and sad. Your wedding was nothing like you’d dreamed of and you feel disappointed and betrayed. You enjoy being married and snuggling with your new husband, but you keep thinking about your wedding day and all of your ruined plans to make it special. When you try to tell your mother how you feel, she tells you that you should be grateful, at least your husband is nice and healthy.

When you tell your best friend about your disappointment, she tells you it is time to get over it—“Your wedding is just one day of your entire life. It is the marriage that really matters in the end. You only get married once, but in the end, you’re married and you’ve got a healthy husband and that’s really what counts, not how you get there!”

You tell another friend about your ruined plans and she reminds you that you are lucky your husband is healthy and that it is selfish of you to keep thinking about your wedding. It is over and you’ve got your nice healthy husband to keep you busy now.

“Yes, but I feel like I missed out,” you venture.

“On what? Weddings are SO overrated. It isn’t like you get a medal for having a beautiful wedding or anything. People have weddings every day.”

You stop sharing your feelings, but you can’t shake the memories. What you expected to be a beautiful day filled with love and celebration was not and you feel a real sense of grief at the loss of your dreams. You know you shouldn’t feel this way. You know that what really matters is your healthy, happy husband, but you keep wondering if your wedding really had to be that way. Yes, you love your husband and you are so happy that he is healthy, but you also wonder if that really is all that matters. Don’t you matter too? Doesn’t your relationship matter? What about respect, dignity, love, and self worth? Don’t those matter too? Wasn’t this a special life transition for your family? Wasn’t it the beginning of a special relationship together and couldn’t that relationship have been celebrated, honored, and treated as worthy of care and respect?

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Notes: I originally wrote this essay in 2007. It was retained for publication by Mothering magazine, but did not end up making it in before the print publication ceased. It was then retained for publication by Midwifery Today, but has not yet appeared. I decided it is FINALLY time for it to see the light of day!

I was inspired to write this essay after reflecting upon the similarities between weddings and births—both mark the beginning of a new form of relationship and a change to the family structure and to individual roles in society. Yet, in our culture, one of these transitions is celebrated as a milestone of adult life and the value of honoring the first steps in life as new partners in a relationship is a given. The other is institutionalized and mechanized and the partners’ individuality is minimized or ignored. Much preparation, energy, time, and finances are invested in planning a lavish wedding and you are expected to expect things to go beautifully, perfectly, and as planned. If they didn’t and your wedding was ruined, most people would say, “It is awful that your wedding was ruined! Wow!” and not call into question your love of your husband or your commitment to your new role as his wife. The wedding ceremony is respected as having value in its own right. This is not true of birth, which is widely viewed as unimportant in terms of how it happens, as long as the result is a “healthy baby.”

Molly Remer, MSW, ICCE is a certified birth educator, writer, and activist. She is a breastfeeding counselor, editor of the Friends of Missouri Midwives newsletter, and a professor of Human Services. Molly has two wonderful sons and one delightful daughter and lives in central Missouri. She blogs about birth, motherhood, and women’s issues at http://talkbirth.me and is the author of the miscarriage memoir Footprints on My Heart.

Alaina’s Birth Story–Baba Style!

Jan28

On Alaina’s birthday I received a special treat—her birth story written by my mom (called Baba in our family). I asked her if I could post it here and here it is!

Alaina’s Birth Story

Baba’s version

Waiting for a baby to be born can be exciting and stressful at the same time – but waiting for baby Alaina was especially poignant because of Molly’s previous loss of little Noah. I was worried. I knew she had a specific vision of how this – her last – birth would be, and I was concerned that my presence would somehow ruin things for her, or not live up to her expectations. I was also actually afraid. I was afraid something would go wrong, either with the birth process or with the baby herself. I was afraid I’d have to be the one who was called upon to act in some heroic manner and would fail. I was afraid I wouldn’t measure up to Molly’s birth expectations. I wanted to do it all right, perfectly, and was afraid I couldn’t. I felt that voicing these fears would somehow manifest them, and I didn’t want to carry the fear into the sacred birth space. I felt prepared – I had been trained in neonatal resuscitation, knew where all the tinctures, supplements, and supplies were located, had a little bag packed for myself – but I was still emotionally and mentally concerned.

However, a few days before the birth, Molly and I had a talk, and it really cleared the air! When the “stand by” call came from Mark, I knew I was ready to be of service to my daughter and arriving granddaughter. The first request was for us to collect the big brothers, who had awakened early and were impacting Molly’s birth environment. I picked them up and brought them to home with me. At that time, Molly was very clear and focused, doing her work on the birth ball. When Mark called me to come back to the house at about 9:00, I scrambled into the car and tore over there, as if there might not be enough time! Molly has a history of precipitous births…….

There was definitely some birthy energy going on! Molly was on the ball with Mark rubbing her back. I knew she wanted to be left alone and have a peaceful environment, so I spoke as little as possible. At some point, I slipped over to her futon nest and tucked my little cheat sheet list underneath. I didn’t want to forget any of the resuscitation steps or what supplements to give her. I tried to remind her to eat, drink and use the bathroom, without being obtrusive about it. She was obviously making progress, and I could hear in her voice that the contractions were growing in intensity. She worried about being too much “in her head” and analyzing things. I tried to reassure her that this is always how she approaches the world, and that it was fine to be that way. She was up and moving around, talking and considering, and also worried that she might not be progressing. This made me think transition might be near, but I didn’t say that to her. She felt some rectal pressure and decided to sit on the toilet for a while. It seemed to me that things were progressing apace, when she reached down and felt something squishy. She said she thought she was pushing, and I decided it was time to abandon my “silence” (really hard for me, by the way!) and comment that she should probably get to her nest if she wanted to avoid having the baby on the toilet. She agreed, but didn’t really seem to want to move. No wonder. She barely made it! Meanwhile, I had called Summer, the doula, and midwife E.

Baba meets Alaina!

Molly dropped to her knees on her futon nest, and had an obviously intense contraction. We helped her get her clothes off. She was upright on her knees, intent upon finding heart tones, when the phone started ringing incessantly. It was SO annoying that I ran over to, picked it up and slammed it down to make it stop. That’s when I heard some garbled crying and Molly had baby Alaina in her arms! In my mad dash to the phone, I had missed the actual moment of birth :(. We all burst into tears and Molly was repeating, “You’re alive! You’re alive! I did it! There’s nothing wrong with me!” The baby was crying lustily, so we got Molly into a prone position (she was still kneeling) with the baby on her chest and covered up. My job was to pop things into Molly’s mouth – supplements, vitamins, chlorophyll, etc., so I got ready to do that. Summer arrived, midwife E arrived, and all was right with the world. Baby Alaina was safe and in her mother’s arms! And in mine, as soon as I could get my hands on her…..

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Molly’s version of Alaina’s full birth story.

Thoughts on epidurals, risk, and decision making

Jan22

In the Winter 2012 issue of The Journal of Perinatal Education I read several interesting tidbits related to women’s experiences of medication during labor, expectations for birth, and thoughts on risk and choice. In an article by Hidaka and Callister titled, “Giving Birth with Epidural Analgesia: The Experience of First-Time Mothers,” I was struck by one mother’s explanation of why she “chose” an epidural: “‘I was nervous about lying down and being confined to the bed again.'” As the researchers explain, “She wanted to stand or sit to cope with labor pain; however, many times she had to lie down for monitoring, and that position made her pain worse, so she was inclined to opt for an epidural” (p. 29).

Some questions immediately arise here. Did this mother actually want an epidural? Do women really need to lie down to be monitored? Was normal labor unbearable without medication? Did she make a free choice? The answer to all is, no. In this case and in so many others around the nation every day, the physiologically normal and fully appropriate need for freedom of movement during labor ran smack into the hospital’s expectation of stillness. And, medication was a consequence of that stillness, not an inability to cope with normal labor–it was an inability to cope with enforced passivity that was directly counter to the natural urges of her birthing body. Where is the “opting” here? When birthing women are literally backed into corners, no wonder epidural analgesia becomes the nationally popular “choice.”

Risk and birth

In another article titled “Risk, Safety, and Choice in Childbirth,” Judith Lothian explores our risk-driven obstetrical model, drawing on material from Raymond De Vries who, “describes that the common strategy of professional groups gaining control is to create risk or exaggerate risk. One ways groups gain power is by reducing risk and uncertainty. Where there is limited risk, it can be ‘created’ by redefining ordinary life events as risky and emphasizing whatever risk exists. The medical model encourages women to see birth as inherently risky for mother and baby…The obstetrician is then in the powerful position of reducing the risk and uncertainty. During pregnancy, women are advised and cautioned about every conceivable, however small, risk; but interestingly, when it comes time for the birth there is little, if any, discussion about the risks of routine interventions, such as continuous electronic fetal monitoring, elective induction, and epidurals…” (p. 45-46).

What are the implications for childbirth educators and doulas? We need to be cautious of perpetuating a medically oriented model that implies that women are responsible for minimizing all possible risks during pregnancy and yet then accepting a climate for giving birth that actually increases risks for both mother and baby. Lothian notes that educators must make it clear “that the current maternity care system increases risk and makes birth less safe for mothers and babies. Women need to know the care practices that make birth safer for mothers and babies and the practices that do not.” She goes on to address a key point, stating that “Childbirth educators need to take a strong stand in support of changing the system to increase safety for mothers and babies…safety is not about frantically trying to minimize small or exaggerated risks during pregnancy and then giving birth in hospitals that protect obstetricians’ interests while increasing risk for mothers and babies” (p. 47). [emphasis mine]

Storytelling and birth

In a later article by Barbara Hotelling about styles of teaching about medications in birthing classes, she references Lothian who suggests, “childbirth educators replace in-depth discussions of stages and phases of labor, medical interventions, hospital policies, and complications…’Let go of trying to fit everything in. Women don’t need to know everything about labor and birth.'” What to do instead? She suggests replacing traditional forms of education with storytelling and other strategies that recall how women through the ages have traditionally come to know and understand birth, stating that, “‘Storytelling is a powerful way to convey basic information about physiology, coping strategies, and confidence'” (p. 51). I’ve written before that what women need isn’t actually just more information and to get educated and these experienced educators agree, “Now there are many books, videos, YouTube videos, and magazines that give expectant parents the information. In their classes, childbirth educators can add storytelling from friends and family about their experiences with pain medication during labor and birth, allowing educators and their class participants to learn from the wise women who went before them” (p. 51).

I’ve long sought ways to help parents cultivate their inner knowing and body wisdom and to focus classes around the development and enhancement of personal resources, rather than on simple information sharing. I would like to re-vision my own approach to childbirth education into a cooperative, woman-to-woman, birth circle type of environment. Michel Odent describes this in his book Birth and Breastfeeding as “new style” childbirth education: “for the most part, these are mothers who have no special qualification but, having given birth to their own children, feel the need to help other women who could benefit from their personal experience. They organize meetings, often at their own homes. They do not usually encumber themselves with any particular theoretical basis for their teaching, but may find it useful to give this or that school of thought as a reference. Their aim could most accurately be described as being to provide information and education, rather than specific preparation.”

Addressing the subject of pain…

Returning to the first article quoted above, in their discussion, Hidaka and Callister state, “Our findings confirm those of a recent systematic review of women’s expectations and experience of pain relief in labor. Across studies, women underestimated the pain of childbirth, we’re not prepared for the intensity of the experience, and often had unrealistic expectations” (p. 29). I’d like to address the other points in a future post, because I think they are very significant, but for now they offer several good tips for childbirth educators to address the topic of labor pain during birth classes:

Teach that some pain/sensation has a purpose to alert the laboring woman to the need for movement, doing something different to encourage rotation and descent, or to push

Teach that the sense of empowerment for accomplished tasks and goals cannot be replaced only with pain relief

Teach that perception of pain is different for every woman

teach that every situation is unique so that no single pain management strategy works

Teach that the word labor means “hard work” and not “big pain”

teach that labor contractions intensify until about 5 cm, and that other sensations (e.g. “downward pressure”) may seem scary or painful

Teach that the sensations of labor are not all unique to labor (e.g. bad menstrual cramps, back pain, nausea, pressure)–they have lived through these experiences before