Dot writes: I’ve had a bit of a rubbish day at work today fretting about childbirth and not managing to concentrate on what I was doing (which is a bit of a problem in a job where concentrating on something is most of the task). I have an appointment at the clinic tomorrow and I want to ask some questions about how the Rotunda ‘manages’ women’s labours. Although the different books I’ve read and the different people I’ve talked to produce a sort of blurring of similar but not quite identical alternatives, a couple of general principles emerge: I want giving birth to be something I do, not something I merely endure; and though epidurals, oxytocin drips, c-sections and so forth can be helpful or even necessary in some circumstances, it makes sense to prepare for a largely unmedicated birth as being the kind that will leave me and Prawn in the best state mentally and physically. The breathing, positions and relaxation techniques I’m learning in yoga are the main tools I want to use. So it is important to me to be reassured that the people at the Rotunda will be supportive and not pressure me to be drugged if I don’t need it.
This afternoon I went to the library to borrow Craig Williamson’s edition of the Exeter Book riddles, but as the nursing section is right beside the English section and I had to pass it to get to my book, I found myself browsing textbooks on midwifery. On the one hand, this was quite comforting: trainee midwives obviously get taught about the benefits of a non-intrusive style of care that pays attention to the mother’s choices as well as to the foetal monitor. On the other hand, it was scary, especially a book called Active Management of Labour, written by a former master of the National Maternity Hospital in Holles Street, which starts by talking about how surprising it is so many women accurately diagnose the onset of their own labours. Of course, there is such a thing as ‘false labour’, but this doesn’t seem a helpful attitude to start from. (The good gentleman goes on to advocate hefty doses of oxytocin to speed things up, followed by c-section if the baby is not imminent after 12 hours.) So instead of usefully examining the riddles I did some more fretting.
But reading in the midwifery section did get me to do a rather interesting mental backflip. A while ago I posted comparing pregnancy to puberty (odd bodily changes, a feverish desire to be normal etc). Pregnancy must also be rather like puberty from the perspective of the caregiver (parent). Here is your primipara. She is bright and intelligent and gaining in knowledge all the time. On the other hand, she is subject to mood swings and she doesn’t have the degree of knowledge or experience you have. She might want to try something really wacky and Californian and if you try gently to dissuade her she’ll think it’s because you’re the Voice of the System, which of course you are. You’re old and wise and you’ve learnt to be cautious. It’s vital to her to make her own decisions, but you’ll have to pick up the pieces if they turn out badly. One moment she needs you to reassure and comfort her, and the next she’s ganging up with her friends to complain about you. And then again, there’s always money. Neither parents nor hospitals are made of it.
I’ll ponder on this. The analogy seems rather a useful one, though there’s more than one way to respond to it: insist on painting the birthing suite black, perhaps?
