"Mom and Baby Are Doing Fine"

On a listserv to which I belong, the birth announcement of a grandson was shared to group members. The announcement had all the regular particulars, such as the baby's name, date and time of birth, weight and length. After that, the person announcing included the statement, "Mom and baby are doing fine." This statement has long struck me as odd, and today I thought I'd write about it for this blog.

Why must we announce that "mom and baby are doing fine?" What about the dog or the dad? How are they? Did we expect that mom and baby might not otherwise be doing well? What is it about the way birth is talked about that medicalizes it and turns it to pathology? If I got news of a successful quadruple by-pass surgery, I'd like to know that not only was the surgery complete, but "'Uncle Joe' is doing fine," would seem appropriate. My assumption with birth is that everyone is indeed fine, in fact, wonderful! If that is not the case, and there was a complication that deserved mention, then, great, let us know and we can then await news that it all turned out o.k. However, we might otherwise pay more attention to what we say, and not feel obligated to say, "Yes, it all turned out well!" Instead, we might assume it is just grand and let it be at that unless it isn't.

From my experience giving birth, and serving as a doula and a midwifery assistant at various points in my life, it is actually the dog and dad (maybe not in that order) who need a check-in on how they are doing. Becoming a father for the first time is often more emotionally charged than becoming a mother. As the pregnant person, I've kind of gotten used to the motherhood part. I am aware of it all and being the one actually giving birth, I'm not really shocked or overwhelmed by the baby. Being a by-stander, especially a male, seems fraught with mixed emotions. On the one hand, you're very involved and concerned about your partner, who might seem alternately to be elated, irritated, in pain, tired, hungry, in need of empathy or may exhibit super-human strength--all of which are equally unnerving, especially as these things seem to all happen at once, possibly. On the other, you are also witnessing birth for what is likely the first time. You are a bit overwhelmed with the process itself, and you are processing becoming a parent, a dad. As a woman witnessing birth, I am never not affected by the process. I cannot imagine what it is for a father.

For my own husband, I watched as the entire realm of human emotion rippled through his face when he was handed our daughter in a blanket in our living room by the midwives as he watched them tend to me and my excessive bleeding. His face told me he was overjoyed and awed at what he held. He was astounded that this little creature was his child. He was terrified that I was dying. He was awed at what he witnessed me do. Because it was our first birth and I had a short second (pushing) stage, he was still recovering his shock at being in the same room with other people when I made noises similar to those I make when we're intimate with one another. He was scared holding her and feeling the weight of his responsibility for this newborn baby. He was equally thrilled at the potential she held for hope and beauty in this world.

At a home birth of what was one couple's fifth child, but what was also a relatively complex birth, the dad looked stricken once the emergency was handled and all set. His other four children were his responsibility during the labor, in addition to supporting his wife. He was overcome with emotion at the birth of his child and was handling the after-effects of the adrenalin rush from the complication that occurred. The midwife got the mom in the shower with his help, and when he walked back into the room, the look on his face made me walk to him and say, "Do you need a hug?" He looked up at me, as his eyes had been cast downward, nodded and then sobbed on my shoulder for a good five or so minutes. After this catharsis, he was completely fine and healed.

I've had other experiences like this when in a support role at a birth. I often believe that doulas are just (or should be just) as much support for the dads as for the moms. So, if we're going to talk about anybody being "fine" post-birth, it might be the dads that we check in about. My point herein is two-fold in improving the atmosphere and support around birth: one, let's stop "worrying" so that we feel a need to say that "mom and baby are doing fine" and let's start recognizing the entire family that birth creates. This makes the dad a part of the package and strengthens the familial bond. It recognizes his role in supporting the birthing mother and his own coming-into-fatherhood. We get rid of the dooms-day attitude and realize the birth of a family, a mother, and a father.