What is a Safe Birth?
What is a safe birth? We have made such fine advances. Birth is now very safe. And it becomes safer the quicker we can do a caesar and the younger we can rescue a premature baby. It really is incredible what we are able to do nowadays. And the focus is on that. To ensure that a birth is safe. Safe for the mother. Safe for they baby. They are alive. Because that is the most important. That they are alive. Of course, that is the most important. I think we can all agree on that. But is it? Or have we gone way, way, way over to one side, in one direction and forgotten about balance? Firstly, birth is never, and can never be 100% safe. Let’s face that. Scary. But oh so true. We want it to be. We so, so want it to be. Of course. But is that everything? Do we take away everything else to ensure it? Is that safe? What is a safe birth? Is a safe birth a birth where we ensure mother and baby are alive? Or is it one where a mother feels held and safe and looked after and cared for so that she can feel capable and able to hold and look after and care for her baby. Make her baby feel safe. She is the mother after all. The one who takes care of this child. Not us. We walk away. How do we ensure a balance of both worlds? A safe birth. Safe. Alive. Well. And a feeling of safety. Not traumatised and violated. But whole. Trusting. Empowered. And...
Read MoreWaiting…
Waiting… Waiting for that baby to come…when will it come? The clock ticks. Tick tock. In this article on estimated due dates in pregnancy and induction of labour, Dr Michel Odent, likens the ‘ripening’ of the baby in the womb to the ripening of a fruit on a tree. Not all fruit ripens at the same time, and we do not expect to pick it all at the same time. We pick the ones that are ready first, and then the next and then the next. So why this hang up with the due date? Why the rush to induce and get things going so soon after this date, whether by chemical OR natural means? What is a due date anyway? The estimated due date is based on Naegele’s Rule, a system worked out by a German obstetrician called Franz Karl Naegele who lived from 1778 to 1851. He worked out that a pregnancy lasted more or less 280 days (about 40 weeks) from the start of the last menstrual period. But, as I am sure he realised, everyone is different, everyone menstruates differently, at different times, has different cycles, either short, long, irregular, heavy, mild. Every woman’s body is different. And so is her baby. And so is her pregnancy. The key words here are ‘estimated due date’ and ‘more or less.’ Only 4% of babies are born on their estimated due date, with a first-time mother birthing her babies a week or so late, and yet we set so many first-time mothers into a panic when they have not gone into labour by their due date. My first baby decided to arrive at 38 weeks gestation, I was not expecting him so soon, his clothes were not ready, and neither was I. My second baby hung in there until 9 days after her due date, and of course, from my previous experience, I assumed I would have another ‘early’ baby. By the time my daughter decided to trigger her labour, I was going pretty mad. My third labour started 15 days after my ‘due date,’ by then I had given in and decided I would certainly be pregnant forever. My fourth emerged three days after she was ‘supposed’ to. It is not an exact science. No matter how advanced the technology nowadays…we can only wait and see…as long as mother and baby are fine, all we can do is wait and watch the mother’s belly ripen. The baby, when he or she is ready to be born, will send a message that tells the mother’s body that it is ready. The mother’s body can then begin labour by slowly releasing oxytocin, the hormone of love. The mother and baby work together to bring the baby into the...
Read MoreEvery Mother is a Goddess
In her book Misconceptions: Truth, Lies, and the Unexpected on the Journey to Motherhood, feminist writer and mother, Naomi Wolf speaks about her experience of becoming a mother for the first time. One of the things she wrote that stood out for me was how this highly regarded intellectual, academic, writer, author, woman, suddenly found herself to be an unseen person. She was walking down the street with her infant, and one of her students walked right past her, did not recognise her, in fact, the student did not even see her. I know that before I gave birth, I did not value mothers or motherhood in the way I did after I gave birth for the first time. I loved my mother and I respected her, but I do not think that I fully valued or saw who she was and what she had done to bring me into this world. During my first labour, I remember my mother’s eyes, soft, dark, familiar, slightly concerned, loving, strong, holding me, carrying me through this experience. And I remember at one point asking her, “How the hell did you do this four times?” She smiled, then laughed softly, shook her head and said, “I don’t know…” And continued to hold me with her gentle touch and soft eyes. After I gave birth for the first time I was high, the love hormone oxytocin coursing through my entire being. The world melted away and the importance of anything beyond the little bubble of warm cosy devotion I inhabited with my newborn son, evaporated. Everything dissolved, except for my deep connection, regard, admiration, and respect for all mothers in the world. I saw mothers and motherhood in a new light and I wanted to bow at the feet of all motherhood. I could feel their sweat, their pain, their love. And any mother who had given birth more than once, was most certainly a goddess. Her work, her love, was beyond my comprehension and understanding. I was in awe. Standing on the other end of having given birth four times myself (and that lovely strong bolus of oxytocin long having left my system) and now having attended numerous births, I feel very strongly that our work as those present at births is to mother the new mother. When a woman births, not only is a baby being born, but so is a mother. How we treat her will affect how she feels about herself as a mother and as a parent. Be gentle. Be kind. Listen. She knows best. She is the mother of this child after all. Or as the mother of midwifery, Ina May Gaskin so eloquently put it: ”If a woman doesn’t look like a goddess during labor, then someone isn’t treating her right.” Happy Mother’s Day…to all the...
Read MoreIt’s not That Hard…Really
Ah…come on guys! Is it really that hard? It is actually beginning to get a bit boring… Drawing the curtains. Dimming the lights. Keeping your voices lowered. Offering sips of water and whispering words of encouragement. Is it really that hard to do? Does it really take too much time? Do you really need to shout at this mother? Tell her she is being difficult and that if she does not cooperate that her baby will die? Do you really need to tell her that if things do not progress she will probably end up with a caesar? And then tell her again? And again? And then when she does end up with the aforementioned caesar, do you need to tell her that you were right all along? Is it helpful? Is it really necessary? Is it really that hard for your touch to be gentle and not rough? For your eyes to be kind? Is it really that hard to help the mother find a position that works for her even if she needs to be constantly monitored? Did you have to pinch the inside part of her thigh? Do you really need to make her feel low, little, irresponsible, when she says ‘no thank you’ to your hands touching her, examining her, piercing her skin with a needle? Do you really need to make her feel stupid when she does not understand what you say, or why you are doing what we are doing? Is it really appropriate to discuss loudly the PPH (postpartum haemorrhage) you had last week and how many units of blood the mother lost? Or the outcome of the birth in the next room? Do you need to pull her legs apart so roughly? Does the vaginal exam really need to be so painful? Does it? It is her body after all. And her baby. And her birth. She will give birth only a few times in her life. Maybe only once. Maybe only this once. The role we play when we are there, present at this precious moment in time, will be embedded in her consciousness, her memory for the rest of her life. An old woman may not remember your name, or whether she has eaten lunch or not, but she will remember the day she gave birth: the smells, the sounds, the people, who were present and how she was treated. It really does not take that much. It really is not that hard. It really isn’t. Being kind and patient. Staying calm. Bringing water. Dimming lights. Respecting her wishes. Drawing those bloody curtains and making sure the mother has some privacy. It is quite simple really. She will remember that you were the one who held a glass of water to her parched lips and told her she was doing well. Really. She will. I can promise you...
Read MoreFire
I cannot write without somehow paying tribute the fire that ravaged the mountains of Cape Town this last week and the men and women who worked tirelessly to fight the flames and save the homes, families and animals affected. I also want to extend my condolences to the families of Nazeem Davies and Bees Marais…I am very sorry for your loss. Mountain fires are a way of life here in Cape Town and we all accept and expect them in a way at this time of the year, when it is dry and the South Easter blows, but I think we have to agree that the fires this last week affected us on a grand scale and seemed relentless. On Tuesday night, after that very very hot day, I lay in bed listening as the wind picked up and I was sure I could smell smoke through my open window. I went outside, it was about two in the morning, and I saw many lights on in many of the houses. I think many Scarbarians were also listening and waiting attentively. A vague orange glow seemed to be coming from over the mountain. I went back inside and went online to try and find out what was going on and saw via Twitter and Facebook the streams of posts and photos regarding the fires in Noordhoek, Kalk Bay, Muizenberg, Clovelly, Tokai, Hout Bay and Constantia. Friends were evacuating their homes and the fire seemed out of control. I felt quite helpless watching these posts on my stream and my own memories around being evacuated when there was a fire here in Scarborough seven years ago were evoked. In 2008, when I was 38 weeks pregnant with my youngest daughter, a fire ripped through Scarborough, burning homes. I was visiting a friend here in the village with my children on the day for an afternoon play but it soon became evident that staying put was not a good idea. The fire seemed to be advancing very quickly and had already engulfed some homes, the mountain was ablaze and Scarborough filled with smoke. We went down to the beach where we also slowly became smoked out, it eventually became difficult to breathe. There we were, two mothers, on the beach, no car (her husband was up the mountain fighting the flames, mine was playing a concert – he is a musician) , with 5 children, one of us pregnant, getting smoked out. Eventually we were spotted by a sympathetic paramedic who drove us to Kommetjie where we ate pizzas with our sooty faced children until family and friends could come and collect us. That evening we could return to Scarborough and thankfully neither of our homes had burnt down – although other friends were not as lucky. But I remember the thin trickle of black dust that seemed to rain down on us after that, covering everything. Around two weeks later, I gave birth to a sweet baby girl – Kaira, after 4 hours of labour, at home. Life goes on, I...
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