Letters to the Editor
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the other side
The most common perception about childbirth these days is that birth hurts, birth is risky. OK, OK, we've got it. The reason I'm glad this film is out there is that it gives another picture of how birth can be: "godly," magic, empowering. The fact is, it's all those things.
At least one letter writer decries Lake for making it all about herself rather than the safety of the child. Not having seen the film, I don't know that that's necessarily true, but I have to ask why shouldn't the woman's experience be a factor in the choice? There are at least two people involved. I think the contention is that the pathologizing of the birth process has dehumanized it for all those involved, including the caregivers.
I had my first in the hospital -- perfectly normal, flat on my back, epidural despite my intentions not to, because, after 24 hours, I was only halfway dilated and I thought that meant another 24 hours. Half-an-hour later I got it (oddly, it only worked on my right side), and half-an-hour after that I was fully dilated and ready to push. "Push what?" I thought. I made no noise. Two hours' pushing, the doc threatening to take measures if I didn't push harder. She was born soon after that, we held her for a few minutes, they wafted her away for a bit, then I was given a horrible, harsh sponge bath. I left the hospital with the only case of athlete's foot I've had in my life.
Not horrible. But I knew it could be better. My subsequent three were all born at home, with a CNM. Each appointment with her was never less than an hour, in which we talked about pain and expectation and body image and family. All the usual medical testing was available to us, as well. Screening was careful, and monitoring during the actual births was intermittent.
With the first, I roared -- for the first time I was in a situation where I could do nothing less than all there was in me to do. It was festive and beautiful. The second experience was solitary and quiet -- what I needed was for my people to stay on the periphery, not touching me or speaking. My son was born into my husband's hands. The third time, I labored on and off through a night, with candlelight, spooned with my husband, my midwife massaging my feet. At 5 a.m., we were walking around in the garden, listening to owls. At 6:30 a.m., he was born directly into my own hands as my older three, then 4, 7 and 9, watched.
Each of the four was the single greatest moment of my life. I know that doesn't make sense grammatically -- but words are a little small. What marks my home births is that they were allowed to unfold rather than managed, which allowed me to do it better, which I think was better for both me and each child. THIS an option that so many women don't know they have, and it is possible even in a hospital setting. It's about having a voice in the event.
Having a birth story one loves to tell is an enormous blessing. Lake happens to have a rather public forum for doing so and has made full use of it (as I suppose I've done here. Oh well). Not having seen the film, I can't say whether she made the best, most responsible use of it. But I'm glad she's drawn attention to the human and potentially "godly" aspect of childbirth.
Last TMI: I had an 8-stitch episiotomy in the hospital and got sewn up too tight. Still, with number 2, there was just a 1-stitch tear. 3 and 4, not even an abrasion. It makes a hella difference in the recovery.