In response to my last post, wherein I commented that our language around birth still needs updating and that we need to widen the scope of our consideration of mother and baby to include newly-minted fathers, I heard responses that spoke to the darker side of birth experience. Rather than change the language, two responders said that their experiences of birth were the opposite of the rhetoric they heard. Both were exposed to people who talked about how easy birth was, how it was natural and a wonderful experience. Because of this, both went into labor with a rosy picture of how it would be for them, too. There was some heated exchange in emails and Facebook posts on the issue. I came to recognize that my viewpoint, as expressed, was more from a sociologist's and birth practitioner's stance. While this can be helpful in the scheme of things, it does not serve individual women or honor their experiences.
Subsequently, I spoke with a midwife friend about the issue. She agreed that my perspective was less a lived one and more of a "if this were an ideal world" view. Underlying the strong emotions (on both sides) in response to my article, it seems that being heard and honored is something still missing in the preparation for labor rhetoric and the lack of support postpartum for processing the life-altering event that is birth.
My midwife friend reminded me of her own birth experience. By all counts, the birth of her second child "should" have been wonderful. She had the care of a competent midwife, gave birth at home in her own environment and definitely felt more empowered by this experience than that of her first birth. She thought she had prepared herself this time by reading all the books, by hiring a midwife, and by staying out of a hospital setting. This was her "armor" and shield against anything that might "go wrong" or otherwise not be perfect. Armed with all this knowledge of hypnobirthing and breathing out a baby, how could the birth be anything but the gauzy, flowery hippy event described repeatedly in Spiritual Midwifery?
The reality of her birth is that her water broke in the morning, and labor did not begin until late afternoon. When labor did begin, it came not in gentle ocean waves, bringing in the tide, but rather like the lightning, thunder and tornados that recently ripped through Massachusetts. There was no gradual build-up. First stage (when contractions are happening) tore through her body, wreaking havoc with physical pain, but also emotional strife. This was NOT what was supposed to be happening! Meg (not her real name) cried out in pain. The pressure in the anterior (front) of her introitus (the opening of her vagina) was excruciating.
By all "outside" counts, meaning everyone but the mother herself, Meg's birth was great! She went into labor after her water broke well within the prescribed timelines. Her labor was fast, and fast equals short which equals good in the minds of people typically judging labor. While she had pain as she pushed a long time to birth her baby, that was "fleeting" and stopped upon the completion of labor. She had a healthy baby in her arms, no problems breastfeeding, a group of women who were supportive and caring, and well, what could be wrong now?
Something was definitely wrong. Meg was pissed about her birth experience. For many years, she harbored bad feelings toward her midwife, who is the person who took the blame for all the emotional and physical pain Meg endured during her labor. Now, with her child approaching the teen years and as a midwife herself with a lot of birth experience behind her, Meg realizes that her experience of her second child's birth and her reaction to that experience are normal, yet no one would ever speak to that. When you've got that baby in your arms and he or she has ten fingers and ten toes and is breathing on his or her own and nursing "like a champ," well, what's there to complain about?
Many women feel betrayed when birth is only portrayed as "strong menstrual cramps" because they experience something far more painful. At the same time, perpetuating horror stories like those I heard from the parents of friends over the years doesn't help either. I grew up hearing about mothers who told their children, "I almost died giving birth to you," and "I was in labor for thirty-five hours!" These stories can scare children, especially girls who might one day be giving birth themselves.
I do think that a positive outlook on birth is something that should be "pushed." I also still think we need to stop with language around birth as if it is an ordeal or surviving something perilous like a fall down a crevasse. I still think dads/partners need to be included in the birth process and the postpartum, and need support themselves. Let me add to my last post with the following: we also need support for women. They need to be able to mourn and celebrate their birthing experiences. When I say this, I mean the same woman should be able to lament what she needs to where any loss is concerned with full validation and she needs to celebrate what she wants to glorify where any "gain" is concerned. Meg needs to be able to be thrilled that she had a successful home birth, that she had a healthy baby and that she just did it and endured the pain she felt. She also needs to be heard as she rages about the lack of preparedness she felt for that pain near her urethra, how she felt duped by the hypnobirthing camp and that nothing, absolutely nothing can actually prepare you for each individual birth experience regardless of how many books you've read, classes you've attended, herbs you have on hand or births you've actually had.
In the end, women need validation for their entire experience. They need to be listened to without judgement. What seems whiny to one person is the biggest deal to another. What one deems a non-issue might be a huge accomplishment in the mind of another. In the end, I stand by my suggestion that we continue to examine the ways in which and words we choose to talk about birth. I stand by my suggestion that we include new fathers/parents-who-did-not-give-birth when we consider the "condition" of all parties to a new baby. Because I do hear you, friends who responded to my post, I amend my post to say that women need space, time and someone to listen so that they may share the entirety of their experience of birth. We need open, honest communication so that we celebrate together and mourn together and validate individual experience without judgement. What I'm saying here is not new, I'm merely saying it in the context of motherhood and birth. All people just want to be told the truth, just want to share their own truths, and need to be heard and supported as they transition throughout life's milestones.
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