03 Jul

Book Review: Life After Birth, by Kate Figes

Kate Figes seems to make a living writing about how awful things are. According to her, birth is awful, and motherhood is awful, and if you haven’t done either of these things yet, this book is pretty certain to put you right off. Reading it during pregnancy would be an extremely bad idea.

In keeping with the genre, Figes presents her rationale, which is that motherhood is difficult and lonely and nobody tells you that beforehand. Here she is in good company; Rachel Cusk‘s slightly depressing motherhood memoir comes to mind. In fact so many authors have written about how nobody tells you how awful motherhood is, that I’m starting to suspect that it might not be true.

Despite the age (2000) of my edition, Life After Birth sets out the context with an explanation which remains topical today, explaining how birth has become so safe for women, that the focus is now almost exclusively on the wellbeing of the baby (see our review of Optimal Care in Childbirth for the bang-up-to-date, academic version of this). However, in a tone of thin sarcasm, most of the book delves into all the things it is possible for a mother to do wrong, and presents motherhood as unfeminist and slightly idiotic.

On the front cover, a quote from The Times describes Life After Birth as a manual; but it would be disingenuous to describe this as a manual, since nowhere does it contain suggestions, strategies or support for the wide range of unpleasant experiences she describes. What comes across is a series of rather peevish attempts to justify her own feelings and decisions; for example in her attempt to debunk the well-evidenced attachment theory on page 63, and her language when referring to authors with whom she clearly disagrees, namely Deborah Jackson (“Leaving a child to cry himself back to sleep apparently teaches him to be resigned to his impotence” – my emphasis – p.117) and Sheila Kitzinger, who “believes” that certain babies are more likely to have sleep problems (p.119). It’s a shame she doesn’t adopt this same circumspect tone when advocating homeopathy to aid recovery from a Caesarean birth, on page 32.

Each chapter contains enough references to give the impression of academic authority, and these hang together with a long string of generalisations and personal anecdotes, rendering the whole thing fairly meaningless. For example, pregnant women “are unlikely to have close friends who are also pregnant.” (p.143) and “Women on the other hand find themselves suddenly defenceless and dependent on a man they may not altogether trust.” (p.145).

Reading this makes me feel sad for whatever complex awfulness this woman went through in her relationships when she became a mother, but it is hard to identify with much in this book, even having been on my own rollercoaster of motherhood only a few years ago. Naomi Stadlen shows that it is possible to be honest and realistic about motherhood without painting an entirely bleak picture. As for Kate Figes, the positive aspects of motherhood finally get a whole paragraph on the last page, but I’m afraid these fears of “being labelled ‘selfish,’ ‘immature’ or ‘not fit to be a mother,'” (p.245) are far from universal, and if these are your fears, this is not the book to help resolve them.

30 Jun

Holly’s birth story

I started losing plug Wed morning and then getting cramps late afternoon and evening. I felt really agitated and hyper all day so I just knew it was starting. We set up the birthing pool and went to bed at 1am. The pains were much worse when I lay down so I left hubby to sleep and paced around the spare room.
At 3am I eventually tried to lay down again to get some rest but just as I drifted off my pelvis audibly popped and my waters broke. I went to the toilet expecting a cascade but it stopped only for me to sit back on the bed and loads pour out. I woke OH who started filing the pool whilst I contacted my doula. My waters were very green in colour so I knew baby had pooed at some point but not recently as there were no meconium chunks. I called triage and they said the homebirth MW was out at another birth but would come over soon. I had a bath and OH poured water over my belly to soothe me.

My contractions got very intense very quickly and soon no amount of pacing or swaying helped. I kept spilling out more waters as I moved about much to my amusement/horror. I was so desperate to get into my pool but it wasn’t hot enough for ages it was like torture sitting looking at the full pool, having serious contractions and not able to get in. My doula was amazing and helped me through each contraction.

1st MW turned up at 5ish and was very worried about meconium and wanted me straight into hospital. My doula and husband talked through the risks and it was agreed I could continue to labour at home and they’d keep monitoring baby. I knew she was a big strong girl so I wasn’t too worried.

I got into the pool finally at around 6 and the contractions went mad, at times overlapping into one another and so intense they were making me convulse. New MW took over at 7 and I agreed to my first VE and I was 9cm! She was pleased but also a bit shocked and so an ambulance was called to take me the whole 2 min ride to hospital as I had agreed that for baby’s sake I would birth her there. By this time I was delirious; I could hardly take a step without contracting and I was at the animal noise stage by now. What a sight for my neighbours haha!

In the ambulance it was like having an out of body experience, I felt like I was asleep and watching myself as I lay there making these insane noises. We arrived at roughly 8:30/9.

The next 2 hrs are a blur with random periods of lucidity between contractions. I tried so many positions: squatting, standing, on toilet, kneeling over back of bed, holding legs open….. But in hindsight I was allowing too much of the power to go into the noises I was making and not into the pushing. So we got her to the point where her head was visible but it keep slipping back inside. Although she had constant monitoring via the little pin on her head she didn’t get distressed but the meconium was still a concern so they didn’t want her stuck down there for too long. Around 10:30 the doctor said she would need to use a suction cup to stop baby sliding back and asked if she could cut me rather than allow me to tear. She was calm and explained all my options and I felt sure that she was only doing what was best for me and baby so I agreed. So after little local anaesthetic and a cut and some serous suctioning, my baby came into the world at 11:05.

I am so pleased with the actions of the hospital. I was tired and getting a little worried and couldn’t have pushed this little chunk out on my own. In the end, her meconium has caused her no problems but we have stayed in overnight for 4 hr obs.

I have vaginal stitches but they are to the side so no damage to perineum. So far no pain from them either.

I have had a brilliant experience and only truly now appreciate how a plan is only a plan and that the medics really do know their stuff. I would definitely labour at home again but would probably birth in hospital or midwife led clinic in the future.

I have a cuddly little lady in my life now, she was worth the wait and we are learning from each other already. She’s latching well but not taking very much each time, she is sleeping a good 3hrs straight each time too so I’m a happy and contented for the moment.

23 Jun

Baby Shock

I meet a lot of new parents, and have come to recognise the glazed stare of someone at the height of sleep deprivation, and anxiety, coming to terms with the reality of life with a newborn baby.

Of course my sample is skewed by the fact that my job entails being there to help when there are difficulties. Many new parents have strong support networks, realistic expectations, and enough confidence in their own instincts, to enjoy these first weeks and sail off into the parenthood sunset.

Feedback from antenatal sessions tells me that parents-to-be sometimes feel they would like more preparation for parenthood. They request practical things: nappy changing always evaluates well but clients would like antenatal teachers to tell them how to get their babies to sleep. Everyone tells you about the sleepless nights to come, usually with a wry smile; but nobody tells you what it feels like. It isn’t like working shifts or travelling across timezones, because of the emotional and hormonal whirlwind going on around you, the physical recovery from birth, and the realisation of immense, relentless responsibility. You can’t sleep this off, and anyway, opportunities to do so are rare.

New parenthood is such an unpredictable and chaotic time, but gradually instincts emerge and you start building knowledge and confidence in yourself. You get to know your baby, and perhaps start to see why we can’t tell you, in advance, how to manage this little person. Your family and your baby are unique, and things are going to shape up in their own way. Only a tiny percentage of babies are “in a routine” by six months of age, but more than half are sleeping through the night. At a recent Introducing Solids session, mothers of four and five month old babies talked about how their babies had slipped into natural rhythms, whether they as parents had tried to manage this, or not.

Life with a new baby might be a big unknown, but you can prepare for it by gathering around you the people you trust to give you care and support, by not expecting too much in terms of “normal” life, and preparing mentally for meeting and getting to know your unique little one when he or she arrives.

19 Jun

Book Review: Optimal Care in Childbirth, by Henci Goer and Amy Romano

This dense and fascinating book presents a huge amount of evidence and a highly articulate argument for a physiological model of birth, starting from the premise that pregnancy and birth are healthy, normal experiences for the majority of women, and only where risk exists, does medical management become appropriate.

This approach fits nicely with my own philosophy of pregnancy and birth, and is well-supported by short analyses of the research in each chapter. Other reviewers have pointed out that the evidence is somewhat cherry-picked, as is always the way in the context of books on birth. It seems to be categorically impossible to have a truly objective reading of the evidence on this subject, and few people with any real knowledge seem to occupy a middle ground on the spectrum from hardline birth skeptics who can only allow the medical model, and advocates of straightforward physiological birth. Both groups tend to be very blinkered about research that contradicts their point of view.

Optimal Care in Childbirth gives a good insight into the source of this deep opposition between the two philosophies. Within the medical model, pregnancy and birth are presented as intrinsically dangerous and difficult. The historical background to this assumption is well documented. In the 21st Century western world, overall levels of risk, particularly to the mother, are very low; and this results in a narrow focus where almost the sole positive outcome to be achieved is a live baby and mother. Strategies are therefore devised to minimise the maximum potential risks, and preventative procedures become routine. This leads to an assumption that the medical approach is the norm, which has a knock-on effect on the research available. The more women who give birth by caesarean section, for example, the greater the belief in the medical community that birth is difficult and dangerous, and the more deskilled midwifery becomes.

There is no doubt that childbirth is complex, variable, and human; and the outcomes of childbirth are soft, complex and variable too. Goer and Romano define the optimal outcome as:

“the highest probability of spontaneous birth of a healthy baby to a healthy mother who feels pleased with herself and her caregivers, ready for the challenges of motherhood, attached to her baby, and who goes on to breastfeed successfully.” [p21]

However since the language and thinking of research is based in the medical model, the basic assumption is that non-intervention in childbirth equals risk, rather than the other way around. Optimal Care in Childbirth recommends reserving medical intervention for those women who would genuinely face greater difficulty without it, rather than protocols that offer it routinely in order to reduce risks that are already small.

The chapters of the book cover all the main topics of relevance to anyone working in childbirth (it is probably not a book aimed at pregnant women, who might get similar but more accessible information from Ina May Gaskin’s books). The chapters cover caesarean birth, induction of labour, care during labour, birth, postnatal care, and midwifery practice. Each chapter includes a mini-review of research and strategies for optimal care. It is a very practical book and an important resource for midwives, obstetricians, doulas and antenatal educators.

20 May

Tropes about homebirth

I like Alice Roberts, she is interesting and clever. Some of the things she has written about birth have given me plenty to think about, and it’s good for me to think. This evening twitter drew my attention to an article in which she claims to take a “scientific approach to having a baby.” The article may be a year old, but it is relevant in the light of new guidance from NICE recommending that more women should give birth at home.

This of course has flushed all the extreme advocates of both hospital and homebirth right out of the woodwork, so here’s trope number one:

We all have to be for one thing and against the other.
Surely it’s a little more nuanced than that.

And it’s those nuances that make up the rest of the tropes.

Human birth is difficult and dangerous.
Except, not for everyone. Where does this information come from? What’s the evidence for that statement, as made by Roberts in the above article, and followed up by this statistic: “about five per 100,000 women die in childbirth and four per 1,000 babies” So, we’re not dropping like flies. And yes, in some cases that’s because modern medical intervention improves outcomes. But it’s also because in many cases, women’s bodies are apparently surprisingly good at giving birth. Up to date medical knowledge, high standards of midwifery training, and modern cleanliness are also factors, but these things are not exclusive to hospitals.

A healthy baby is the only important outcome.
Postnatal trauma is a real thing. Where the risk of a poor outcome to the baby is very small, maternal satisfaction with the birth process is actually highly relevant. The “healthy baby” trope buys into the patriarchal system where women must be compliant and put her unquestioning trust in the doctors; furthermore she should be grateful that they “deliver” her healthy live baby, no matter what they did to her, often without fully informed consent, in order to achieve that. The draft NICE guidelines acknowledge the importance of maternal satisfaction with the process; this is not the same as prioritising the process of birth over the goal of a healthy baby; it is simply stating that birth is a process. Giving birth is a huge physical and psychological event, and to reduce women to precious vessels whose only role is to produce live offspring is patronising at best.

A high proportion of women planning a homebirth end up transferring into hospital, so why bother?
Roberts quotes a 45% transfer rate for first time mothers, 12% for subsequent births. Of course, nobody goes into hospital before actually going into labour unless they’re suffering some severe condition such as pre-eclampsia. This is not an argument against labouring at home, and does not necessarily mean that those mothers who transfer in have less satisfaction. If we could take the value judgement out of home vs hospital, we could look at this as encouraging women to labour at home and only go in if necessary, rather than framing it as failure to birth at home.

If you need intervention, it’s instantly available in hospital.
Not true. You may have to wait a couple of hours for an anaesthetist to be available, or for the previous woman to move out of theatre. So plenty of time for that transfer.

Well duh, of course there’s a lower risk of intervention at home, because you can only carry out intervention in hospital.
This still isn’t an argument against homebirth, and it is one of the main reasons women might choose to birth at home. Yes, obviously, the tools are not available. If an intervention is necessary, then a transfer is going to be needed. But an intervention is less likely to be necessary where women give birth in a calm home-like environment. Statistics demonstrating a lower incidence of intervention in planned homebirths include those who transferred and then experienced intervention, because that happens.

Homebirth advocates present the research findings with the wrong priorities because they have An Agenda.
And by “wrong priorities,” we mean priorities that differ from hospital birth advocates. From Roberts’ article:

look up “home birth” on the National Childbirth Trust (NCT) website, […] the findings are laid out in exactly the opposite order to that in the original research paper and the RCOG’s statement: women having a home birth are more likely to have a “normal birth” without intervention; home births are safe for women having a second or subsequent baby; lastly: home birth increases the risk to the baby for first-time mums. The main outcome investigated by the study is the last to be mentioned.

What NCT are doing here is normalising straightforward birth. It’s all semantics, innit? If you do follow Roberts’ link to NCT, you will see that the risks are clearly mentioned. In fact, it took me several attempts to replicate Roberts’ results by searching NCT’s website; the first few articles I came up with were clearer, more accessible, and included links to relevant information from The Birthplace Study and the NHS.
I would argue that hospital birth advocates also have An Agenda.

Homebirth is unethical and dangerous
In January The Independent headline claimed that homebirth was “as dangerous as ‘driving without putting your child’s seatbelt on’.”
The always excellent NHS Choices website responded to this with the conclusion:

A case could be made that rather than discouraging home births, we should instead be improving the levels of support to women who choose to home birth and so reduce the risk of complications.

Perhaps that’s where we should leave it. This isn’t about our different choices making us good or bad people, or our different experiences making us successful or failures. It’s about informing and supporting families, even those whose priorities aren’t the same as yours.

Views expressed here are my own, and do not represent the views of NCT.

04 Apr

The science of birthplace

My work now includes talking to parents-to-be about where they choose to give birth, and so this subject is of increasing interest, particularly since the skeptics I hang out with suck their teeth a little when we get on to the subject. To be quite frank, I suck my own teeth. It’s very hard to weigh up the pros and cons of a subject in which even the most scientifically minded get rather emotionally invested. I will conclude, perhaps, that we all give different weight to different outcomes, and that’s parenting for you, which means that I am as usual chasing my tail and asking “why can’t we all just get along?”

This is a complex and emotive topic, and few people seem able to write about it without their passion leaking through. So let’s state upfront that my passion is to support parents to make their own informed decisions, decisions they will have to live through, and live with, about an event that is in many cases earthshattering in the experience itself, and in its ramifications. Giving birth is a very big deal. Yes, it’s a normal physiological process and women’s bodies are well-adapted to perform it; but let’s bear in mind two very important provisos here:

  • It’s 2014. We give birth in very different conditions than those to which our bodies are adapted; and
  • Birth is safer in England than it has ever been, and this is down to a range of factors including modern techonology and hygiene.

But giving birth is not simply a physiological process. It is a profound life event affecting our bodies and our view of our bodies, affecting our families and other relationships, affecting us in social, financial and psychological ways that cannot possibly be accounted for in a simple birthplace study. Therefore birthplace studies tend to base their conclusions on measurable outcomes, usually neonatal death, injury, or oxygen deprivation to the baby. Some studies also consider some physical outcomes for the mothers, such as whether she experienced medical interventions or whether she went on to breastfeed. Very few studies consider birth trauma as an outcome.

Which? Birth Choice has a very clear set of tables comparing outcomes for hospital obstetric units, midwife-led birth centres, and homebirth. This is based on the 2011 study Perinatal and maternal outcomes by planned place of birth for healthy women with low risk pregnancies: the Birthplace in England national prospective cohort study BMJ 2011;343:d7400. If you click through to the tables in the report you find risks for ALL births reported as 4.3 adverse outcomes per 1000 births. This is then broken down to show the differences for first births (5.3/1000) compared with second or subsequent births (3.1/1000), and broken down still further to show risks according to place of birth. As has been reported, the risk of an adverse outcome at a planned homebirth for a first baby shoots up to 9.3/1000. As has not been reported, the risk of an adverse outcome at a planned homebirth for second or subsequent baby drops to 2.3/1000. The study concludes that “The incidence of adverse perinatal outcomes was low in all settings.” The headlines, meanwhile, focus on the relative risk: 9.3/1000 is more than twice as high as 4.3/1000, therefore homebirth is twice as dangerous as hospital birth.

Parents need to be given these numbers along with a little bit of information about how to make sense of them, which is where the Which? page is useful. But they also need the opportunity to consider what other outcomes are important to them, given that the absolute risk of adverse outcomes is so low. The Which? page gives information about the likelihood of intervention in various settings, and parents may want to consider this as a factor in their decision making.

Meanwhile, all this pitting of hospital birth against homebirth results in Birth Centres being overlooked. Birth Centres are intended to offer a home-like setting, with midwife-led care. They are often located within hospital settings, so the obstetric facilities are on hand. Our birthplace study referenced above shows that the risk of adverse outcomes is comparable to an obstetric unit, while the likelihood of intervention such as instrumental birth or caesarean birth is lower. A 2012 Cochrane Review of Home-like versus conventional institutional settings for birth by Hodnett et al supports this:

Home-like institutional birth settings reduce the chances of medical interventions and increase maternal satisfaction, but it is important to watch for signs of complications.

One thing that is important to beware of is using data originating in the US, since the model of midwifery care in the US is very different to the UK. This perhaps is a subject for a later post, and probably not by me.

Finally I want to come back to the definition of an adverse outcome, where once again women are reduced to the precious vessels, solely charged with but not entirely trusted to bring this baby to the world unharmed and perfect in every way. What about outcomes for mothers? I have heard Sheila Kitzinger speak on the subject and read some harrowing accounts of childbirth:

one reason why many women have low self-esteem and cannot enjoy their babies is that care in childbirth often denies them honest information, the possibility of choice, and simple human respect…..

Studies from 2003 and 2004 found that up to 6% of women show full PTSD symptoms following an experience of birth where they felt scared, helpless and vulnerable. While all the focus is on outcomes for the baby, women’s lived experience is belittled and ignored as a decision-making factor. This is why parents need to be given all the information, and not frightened into seeing hospital birth as the only safe choice for their babies, regardless of how it will feel for them; and the information given needs to include more than just the risk of adverse outcomes for the baby.

01 Apr

Dean & Claire’s first week of parenthood

This follows Dean’s birth story, here.

Day One.
I’m back in at 10am, Claire has got 1 hours sleep but looks great on it even if she doesn’t feel it. Alexander has had his first attempt at breastfeeding and it’s not going well. Claire is frustrated at not being able to get the right position and when she does he latches on, takes a few sucks and falls asleep. Blowing on his face, tickling his tummy or pinching his feet wake him for a few more gulps and then he’s back in the world of nod.

This is how it’s been all night and we are slightly concerned, but the midwives are ok with it. In fact, listening to other conversations around the ward this seems to be a common theme. Read More

31 Mar

Dean’s birth story

Dean and Claire were on my first NCT Essentials course. Instead of coming along to session 4 of 5, they did this…

Firstly a little recap. Claire’s liver had been playing up so she was on medication and under consultant care. This involved blood tests that were taken on a Monday and the results given on a Wednesday. Last Wednesday we went in at 9am to find out how she was doing and where we were going from there, the options being full term or induced early. The results came in and everything was looking better as Claire was responding to the medication. Due to her age and the problems, Claire was booked in for an induction on her due date and I left to work in Scotland with 4 weeks in hand. I was going to have a nice lay-in at the hotel on Monday, grab a bike ride on the way back and be at NCT for 7.30pm. Read More

14 Jan

Firstborn by Katherine Gallagher

For years I dreamt you
my lost child, a face unpromised.
I gather you in, gambling,
making maps over your head.
You were the beginning of wish
and when I finally held you,
like some mother-cat I looked you over –
my dozy lone-traveller set down at last.

So much for maps,
I tried to etch you in, little stranger
wrapped like a Japanese doll.

You opened your fish-eyes and stared,
slowly bunching your fists bracing on air.

With kind permission from Katherine Gallagher