Obstetric Violence (trigger warning)

We sat at her kitchen table drinking coffee. The sky was a clear blue with a gentle breeze. As often happens, when women hear that I am midwife, she wanted to share her birth stories with me. When this happens, I try to listen attentively and remain open to their sharing. Her children are 50 and 51, yes born very close together, 11 months apart to be exact. As she tells her stories, she becomes visibly upset and even agitated. For her, these things happened yesterday. In my experience, this is a crucial part of dealing with birth trauma; it always feels so current, the pain is often just below the surface. She is angry and confused, still not understanding the things that happened to her. She remembers very little, just snapshots really. She was "drugged" and felt out of her body, something "cold and hard" was placed inside her to "pull" out her children. She was treated "like an animal" there was no compassion. The next day, she had bruises and abrasions on her wrists. For years afterwards, she would wake in the night terrified and feeling as though she were dying.  She still deals with pain "down there" all these decades later. She asks me; "Do you know what happened to me?"
Do I tell her? Do I tell her about 'Twilight Sleep', women being strapped down to tables, episiotomies and forceps and the assembly line that was a labor and delivery unit? I ask her; "Do you want to hear my answers?" She responds that she does. So, I tell her, I tell her everything that likely happened to her. She is calm and quiet for a time, occasionally nodding to herself. Eventually she says, "Now at least I finally know that I am not crazy."  We two women looked at each other with silent tears on our cheeks and finished our coffee.

This is the truth behind the history of obstetrics in this country. This is the reality of what the knowledge is based upon. This is where "they are coming from" and we can never forget. Have we struggled, fought and toiled to make great strides to improve the care given to women during birth? Yes! Are we done? Hell No! This is why we must continue. Just because things are much better now does not mean that the work is done. I share this story so that we don't forget, so that the new advocates and activists remember the history, know the past and never forget where they came from.

thinking back

Today has been a day full of snow and reflection. Snow often brings me to points of reflection. My thoughts have been wondering to memories of my own births and pregnancies...so very different from each other...for many reasons. I have had three pregnancies and two births. My first pregnancy was almost 13 years ago, boy that is scary to say...I have a 13 year old!! How does that happen?

When I was pregnant with my son, I knew nothing of what I was heading into. The pregnancy was a surprise but welcomed. However, I seemed to know two things, strongly and instinctually. I knew that I had to have a midwife and that I had to breastfeed my baby. In hindsight this is amazing to me...where did this knowledge come from? I had never consciously heard of midwives and I had never been around mothers who breastfed. Somehow, I just knew of these things in my bones...maybe some crazy genetic memory. I was blessed to find a great group of CNM's. I had a difficult pregnancy that involved a serious car accident, bed rest and PUPP's(a difficult skin rash). The labor and birth continued with the pattern and were also difficult. My son was direct OP (posterior or sunny side up) and acynclitic. It took four hours and every ounce of determination and strength in my body to work him out. Afterwards, we had a tough time with breastfeeding, including a tongue-tied baby and a full blown case of mastitis. Looking back now, it is almost comical, at the time it was almost tragic.

My next pregnancy was tragic. (I have written about it before in the post titled 'Just a Flutter'.) It was a desired and planned pregnancy...that was not meant to be. Near the end of my first trimester, the pregnancy presented itself to be ectopic. The baby was lost and I was very nearly lost as well. It was devastating and is something that I still work through.

My last pregnancy was also planned and desired. It also had its share of tough issues, including pretty serious morning sickness, that had me loosing weight. The birth however, was glorious. My daughter was born at home, in a pool in our bedroom. I was surrounded by friends and family and had a great midwife. It was empowering and humbling.

Although my two births were so very different, they did share some aspects. They were both drug free and I had supportive people around me. Additionally, I had a similar experience during both. In the depths of labor, that point where you feel that you cannot possibly do or give more, I had the sensation of being in a great line of women. I could see them flowing through time, all behind me, and feel them supporting me and offering strength. This experience during my first birth was also the moment that I knew, deep inside my being, that I would become a midwife myself. So, here I am, on a snowy winter day contemplating these memories. I sit here as a midwife...the journey has been a long and twisty one...but so worth the effort. I also know that it is a journey that will never end, it will always grow and expand, like the never ending line of women flowing through time....