Her Father’s Song
Beneath the hustle and bustle of the busy theatre there is a soft hum. It is her father’s song. It is a song and voice she recognises. She stops to listen. It has been a busy night and day. She and her mother have worked hard and now she has been cut from her mother’s womb. Her cord severed. A pipe stuck in her mouth and nose. Voices. Smells. Strange hands. Bright lights. Cold. And then placed on her mother’s chest and a towel placed over her. Her mother’s sweet smelling chest. Soft. Warm. Comforting. Soft touch. Gentle, loving voices. And then the song. A soft hum. It softly penetrates the clatter. The chatter. The competitive banter. The jovial joking. The hustle. The bustle. Green fabric. Beeping machines that seem to breathe. Bright lights. Fast, efficient movements. Talking. Instructions. Splatters of blood? Shiny instruments.Flashing. Pipes. Sucking. She is placed on her mother’s chest and the rhythm of her mother’s heartbeat is so familiar. And the smell so sweet and delicious. She looks around. She sniffs. She smells. She drools. She nuzzles. She is protected by her father’s song. A soft hum which seems to weave a protective spell around the mother, father and child. Even the doctor performing the surgery notices the magic of the father’s song and stops his chatter to listen. ...
Read MoreThe Media and Childbirth
Last week I was hired to play a midwife in a commercial. I also had to help dress the set, which obviously was a hospital room. I tried to de-medicalise the set it as much as possible, getting rid of unnecessary machinery and having the mother as upright as possible. But it was interesting to see how we still fall back on the old stereotypes of childbirth, dramatic, stressful, painful… In her documentary film, Laboring Under an Illusion: Mass Media Childbirth vs. The Real Thing, childbirth anthropologist Vicki Elson explores how birth is portrayed through the media. She juxtaposes this with footage of ‘real’ birth – without the dramatic voice overs and music and tension. It is a hilarious take on how we have allowed ourselves to be influenced through television shows, films, comedies, reality shows, etc. What has the media taught us about birth? That pregnancy is awful. That you will feel ill throughout, have insufferable cravings and make your partner’s life miserable. In a nutshell – your life is over. Oh…and antenatal classes consist of mothers sitting in circles hyperventilating. And the birth? Well, birth inevitably is triggered by the mother’s waters breaking, and flooding the supermarket. In reality, only 15% of women’s waters break at the onset of labour, and sometimes it is more of a leak than a gush. Also, it will usually happen at night, when she is in bed, at rest, when it is dark. In films, once waters break, the mother is then suddenly in full blown labour and pain, she screams and flails, sometimes falling backwards, conveniently knocking over a pile of tomatoes, peaches, apricots (insert colourful soft fruit). She grips at her partner desperately, whilst her partner, in a sweating panic, tries to help her. In reality, labour starts slowly and gently. Often a mother will keep the little twinges that are niggling to herself, enjoying them whilst she gets on with her day. There can be many, many hours of these little twinges and niggles before things shift gear and move into the next phase of stronger labour. Cut to the car ride. Which feels more like a cops and robbers car chase. They are breaking all speed and safety records, putting their lives and others at risk to get to the hospital in time. Mother is screaming. Father is panicking. Birth seems imminent. In the real world, moves to the hospital are usually slow and mothers are encouraged to stay at home until ‘active’ labour kicks in. They are sometimes sent home if they arrive at the hospital too early. Now we are pushing. She has been stripped of her clothes and her persona and is on her back in a hospital gown, in a hospital bed, surrounded by people shouting “Push! Push!Push!” Perhaps, leading up to this moment, she had been planning a natural birth but now she is screaming for an epidural/caesarean and a great joke is made out of the fact that there is not need to be brave. She is also surrounded by lots of hospital equipment. It all feels very dramatic. Finally, the baby is born, or rather, it feels as though it has been rescued. And all is well. Or is it? Phew…tough one. This last bit is quite true actually and is often how birth can play out in a hospital setting. But which came first? Have we allowed ourselves to think that this is what birth is like? Or that this is how it has to be? How many women think, that they have to give birth on their backs because that...
Read MoreWho Cares for the Midwives?
Midwifery can be very lonely. Midwifery is very much a calling and something that those who choose to walk this path, do because they want to ensure a safe and holy passage for mother and baby. Midwives believe in the sanctity of birth and know that protecting the mother during pregnancy and through the birthing process will ensure that the mother bonds with her baby and will make her a better mother. Midwives believe in women’s ability to birth and it is the midwife that is that solid rock during labour when the mother feels she can no longer do it. Midwives encourage. Midwives listen. Midwives trust. Midwives are there for the mother. Midwives are there for the father. Midwives are there for the baby. But who is there for the midwife? Who cares for the midwife? Who can she turn to when she has had a scary experience? Who rallies around her? Midwifery can be very lonely. When a midwife is called out to a birth at three in the morning and cold rain is ripping at the windscreen of her car, it can be very lonely. As the clock ticks and the world is asleep and no one else is awake, it can be very lonely. When a midwife writes up her notes and heads home to her bed it can be very lonely. When a midwife has to deal with an emergency, she has to think quickly on her feet and act to save a life, or two, it can be very lonely. When a midwife has to transfer to hospital and stay strong for the mother, all the while feeling worried herself, it can be lonely. So why do midwives do it? Why do they keep doing it? What drives them? Because it is a calling. There is a pull, something unstoppable. Because it is beautiful. The soft sigh of a woman finding her rhythm as she labours. The gentle splash as she moves about the birth pool. Because it is awe inspiring. To be a witness, a guardian, of the birth of a new life. Not only the birth of the baby, but also the birth of a mother. Because it is empowering. There is something incredible about a woman in labour tapping into her own innate instincts. Because it is...
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