The phrase ‘pro-choice’ has been primarily associated with a movement to allow women the legal right to choose an abortion.  The rationale behind this movement is grounded in the belief that a woman has absolute ownership over her body and unborn baby.  This post is not about abortion and I do not necessarily embrace the entire pro-choice movement as the concept of foetal rights introduces complexities for me.  I would however like to explore the meaning of pro-choice outside the abortion realm and what it means in the larger scale of a woman’s rights over her fertility and her body as a whole.

There have been several high profile cases where a woman has become pregnant in unusual (and some may say inadvisable) circumstances, whether naturally or with medical assistance. Michelle Duggar’s 19th baby, Josie, born three months prematurely. ‘Octomom’ Nadya Suleman.  This post in particular was prompted by coverage of  72 year old Rajo Devi Lohan who is now dying following an IVF pregnancy and birth which resulted in a healthy baby but severe maternal complications.

What enraged me about this coverage was the suggestion by a psychiatrist working for Fox News that a 72 year old woman was probably not ‘of sound mind’.   This is pure nonsense.  (Just ask my grandmother who completed a MEd last year at the grand old age of 77).  Lohan’s decision-making process was clearly heavily influenced by a cultural perception where she felt it was better to die than to be barren for the rest of her life.  This may be a difficult leap of logic for Westerners, but it does not make it an insane decision.  The same is true for Suleman or the Duggars.  In fact, one could argue in this age of media attention and poor employment prospects, their fertility choices were a calculated risk –  they both have greatly improved their earning potential and all their babies have thankfully survived.

Yet there is an immense amount of judgement attached to fertility choices.  Women are attacked for remaining childless, for only having one baby, for having more than two babies.  There are perhaps valid reasons for questioning these choices when the women then require resources from the community to support the children (The UK’s financial welfare system for example or even the question of global resources).  However I suspect these are a smokescreen.  The real outrage is directed at women claiming ownership of their own fertility rights.  Indeed not having enough or having too many babies is often specifically called ’selfish’ by the less sisterly among us.

These sentiments, the idea of a woman being selfish or of unsound mind hark back to decades of women being considered hysterics and hussies, incapable of making a rational decision about their body.  They are frequently directed at women who opt for home births, for example.  Meanwhile, men may reproduce as responsibly or irresponsibly as they choose and at worse are a ‘cad’ or a ‘player.’  Single mothers struggling to raise their children are pilloried in the Daily Mail/Fox yet the fathers are quickly forgotten.  A woman who abandons her children is an atrocity while a man who does the same is just shrugged away.

The truth is, fertility is a human right.  Why do we reproduce?  As the child-free contingent point out, it is probably illogical.  It’s a poor financial choice, it’s bad for global resources and it is a massive responsibility.  However it is a natural drive.  Even having one baby could be termed selfish, but it is necessary for the continuation of the species and it is something that many women want for reasons which might be instinctive, spiritual and all-encompassing.  It is rarely a choice of pure logic.

What is concerning is that society has repressed our reproductive rights.  It is difficult to survive on one salary with several children.   The US in particular offers little in the way of maternity leave or benefit and mothers are pressed to return to work as soon as possible.  We are effectively slaves as we have sold our freedom to reproduce – we are expected to raise our children in an appropriately consumerist way and this requires a certain level of wealth.  SAHMs are often called lazy, yet they’re doing something perfectly natural and normal – raising their children as generations have done.

Being pro-choice means that you accept a woman has full ownership of her reproductive organs and the way she chooses to use them.  You may not approve of her choices but criticising a woman for having several children or for being too young or too old to have children is as offensive and unpleasant as criticising a woman for having an abortion.  Why do we allow so many others to curtail our choices?  More worryingly, laws are in place to prevent certain kinds of birth in some states.  Though some may consider home birth risky and unassisted birth downright dangerous, if you are pro-choice, surely you accept that a woman may have her reasons for making a choice that you do not approve of and that it is ultimately her absolute right to birth her child however she wants.  There is far wider debate in this sphere.  Whether women should have a choice to smoke or drink alcohol or go abseiling in pregnancy.  Whether women should have a choice to reproduce when under the legal age for sexual intercourse (after all, why do we allow an arbitrary age which changes from region to region to dictate a behaviour encouraged by nature?).  This is why I cannot categorically say I am pro-choice as I do believe an unborn child should be granted certain protections.

I think these questions are worth asking.  Being ‘pro-choice’ is not as simple and as clear cut as it appears.

For several months, I’ve heard the legend of Dr Robert ‘Dr Wonderful’ Biter. There’s even an ‘I love Dr Biter’ Facebook group. Being a natural sceptic I reserved judgement until Thursday night, when I volunteered at Mamafest, San Diego. He arrived fashionably late and seized the stage with a powerful, heartfelt address to the mothers and birth aficionados present. And then I saw what the fuss was about. Here was a charismatic man with something deeply important to say and alluding to horrifying oppression.

I don’t want to paraphrase and I didn’t take notes, but the message I received is that birth is sacred: Women have a special and wonderful power in birth. And it is being stolen from them. Dr Biter blamed fear. Fear and anger. Charitably, he didn’t blame greed, but I would guess that greed is the third culprit in this cruel trinity.

Dr Biter’s patients leave dazzling testimonials. He gives them choice in how they give birth. He doesn’t railroad them into unnecessary caesareans or pump them with artificial hormones to force or urge on labour. Others allow fear to overrule choice. Birth cannot be micromanaged and risk can never be erased. Too often, meddling introduces new risk.

Dr Biter gives his patients time and allows their bodies to work. He has never had a malpractice suit against him.

Yet he has now lost his privileges to deliver babies at Scripps Encinitas hospital. This was the reason he was late to Mamafest. He had to meet with lawyers. He truly is being oppressed.

Why? Well, the reason is confidential. But there are many questions. Is it because he doesn’t bring enough revenue in through unnecessary caesareans? Is it that other doctors are losing their patients to ‘Dr Wonderful’? Is it simply that he makes others look bad because he shows faith and confidence in his patients, treating them as intelligent, incredible humans who are capable of birthing their own babies, while others see birth as a process which requires intervention and management to work?

Shinemama has thrown away scepticism because all I heard from Dr Biter was sense. And in the last two days, I have heard he is willing to work unpaid as a doula to his existing clients at another hospital. A doctor working as a doula! Where others would let ego get in the way, this is a man who has put his patients first.

So I joined more than a hundred others outside Scripps Encinitas this Mothers’ Day morning to rally in support. Present were Biter-delivered babies, birth professionals of all stripes and people who recognise injustice.

Scripps Encinitas remain silent.

Support birth choices. Support doctors who support birth choices. Support Dr Biter.

Breastfeeding and natural birth are emotive subjects and sadly surrounded in controversy.

These two subjects trigger all kinds of feelings in women and for those who wanted to breastfeed or who wanted a ‘natural’ delivery but did not succeed, for whatever reason, those feelings are often tinged with deep sadness, regret and guilt which can contribute heavily to postnatal depression.

This poses a great dilemma for educators. We are charged with not building up ‘unreal expectations’

Why natural birth is ‘difficult’

In American hospitals, the chips are stacked against anyone wanting a delivery without interventions as labour without augmentation with pitocin (artificially increasing the intensity and regularity of contractions) is increasingly rare. The spiral of interventions is fast and furious. Pitocin often makes contractions unmanageable by the body’s own hormones, which makes epidural pain control essential, which restricts the body’s ability to push and the woman’s ability to move and remain upright.

Why breastfeeding is ‘difficult’

Similarly, breastfeeding is challenged by unfair tactics – caesareans make breastfeeding more difficult, criticism of bedsharing threatens one of the most natural ways for you and your baby to share closeness, triggering hormones which aid milk production and more subversively, marketing of formula milk (free samples on the labour ward for example) hints that it is condoned by medical professionals, that it is just as good as breast milk. Most critical of all is the lack of support. Few of us are lucky enough to have experienced family around us who can help out with breastfeeding. Not enough professional breastfeeding counsellors are available (although the NCT in the UK or La Leche League in the US are always great places to shout for help with breastfeeding if you need it!) and maternity wards are understaffed – they simply don’t have the time or resources to give every woman the support she needs to breastfeed. According to the USA’s CDC figures for 2003, 71% of women tried to breastfeed in hospital. By 6 months, only 36% of women are still breastfeeding at all and only 14% still breastfeeding exclusively. Figures for the UK Office for National Statistics 2005 are worse, showing only 35% of women exclusively breastfeeding at one week and only 3% at five months.

The World Health Organisation recommends breastfeeding until two years and exclusive breastfeeding up to six months.

It’s a gloomy picture isn’t it? And for educators teaching to a hospital curriculum, the challenge is nearly insurmountable. How can we tell women they can have the birth they want and feed in the way they want when the odds are so heavily against them? Aren’t we just setting them up for failure? Isn’t the guilt just compounded when we teach that bottlefeeding increases their baby’s risk of SIDS or leukemia.

Can you plan for birth?

One argument I come across is that birth is ‘random’ and that birth plans are frequently laughed at by hospital staff. “The one way to jinx your birth is to write a plan” they say. Well, while it is true that birth can be unpredictable, it’s not the same as saying that it is completely out of control. A percentage of births are easy – labour is relatively short and the baby comes without too much effort. Another percentage of births are very difficult. No matter what the mother or the staff do, the baby is badly positioned or ’stuck’ and needs intervention to be delivered. I would suggest that a large percentage of births fall somewhere in between – that a natural delivery is feasible, but if poorly managed, they may be written off as a ‘failure to progress’ and progress to caesarean or instrumental delivery. It is for this large group that active birth is so crucial. Staying upright, moving around, drinking raspberry leaf tea, using a doula, using a birth ball, swaying the pelvis, relaxation and visualisation may all swing the balance, stave off stress and help labour to take its natural course.

Breastfeeding is very similar. A small amount of women may never be able to breastfeed, another percentage will find it easy. Most will need some support and to overcome a few obstacles to really settle into it. Once again, the right support can really swing the balance, yet as we have seen that support is frequently lacking.

The real difficulty for educators is that attitude makes a difference. Imagine a scale from one to ten, when 1 is “I don’t want to breastfeed”, 10 is “I definitely want to breastfeed” and 5 is “I want to give breastfeeding a try.” Those pregnant women who score themselves nearer to 10 are more likely to succeed in breastfeeding than those who score a 5. They are more likely to seek help, support and push on through difficulties. Similarly, a scale from 1 to 10 might exist for giving birth without an epidural. Those who are dead set against an epidural will be likely to try anything else first.

Of course, in both cases, nothing is guaranteed, no matter how determined you are. And it is possible that someone scoring a ‘1′ that they don’t want to breastfeed might have a change of heart and try anyway, or someone scoring a ‘1′ that they definitely want an epidural might realise in the delivery room that they are coping fine without. But scoring higher definitely boosts the chance of success.

Education is likely to raise those expectations. A woman who originally scored a ‘5′ that she might like to try breastfeeding (perhaps her family all formula-fed) could well shift her score up a few notches if she learned how it might benefit her baby. Similarly, a woman might become more determined to try birthing without an epidural if she learned more about the pro’s and con’s.

The difficulty here is that it sounds as if I’m arguing that success depends on determination. I do believe determination plays a part in both birth and breastfeeding, but as I have already pointed out, it is only part of the equation. Occasionally birth or breastfeeding have real physical reasons why they cannot work. Sometimes the support just isn’t there and sometimes women just don’t have access to the information they really need (their doctor perhaps tells them that an epidural is very safe and that they don’t need to suffer).

I would love to see the guilt taken out of these aspects of parenting. I would love to see women feel comfortable and happy with their choices. What stood out for me is that in the UK’s 2000 birth survey published by the Department of Health, ninety percent of women who gave up breastfeeding in the first six weeks wanted to continue. So who is to blame when it goes wrong? Clearly not these mothers.

The answer is complex. It comes down to a lack of support, from maternity wards to policymakers, from employers to public baby ‘unfriendly’ venues, from formula marketeers to family. There is a great need for education and for professional support. There is a massive demand for breastfeeding counsellors and consultants. I hear so many stories of women whose ‘milk never came in’ when they weren’t shown attachment techniques, skin-to-skin contact, frequent feeding, co-sleeping and so on. When they thought colustrum wasn’t enough. Similarly, where birth is concerned, there is a need for education, for evidence-based decision making in hospitals rather than unhelpful policies and procedures, for doulas and for the opportunity for women to really get active and work with their bodies rather than with hospital demands for restrictive monitoring, fasting or bedrest when not strictly needed.

What we need is to stop blaming ourselves. To have strength, determination and hope so that it can go right whenever it is possible, and when it occasionally doesn’t, we can be gentle on ourselves, and once we have mourned what was not to be, we can regroup and move forward.

xx

A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to drink coffee with two ladies who run a small women’s group for women in their twenties and thirties. I am now preparing as they kindly invited me to address the rest of their group tomorrow on the subject of pregnancy and birth. None of the group currently have children and many are now trying to conceive or thinking about it.

One subject that cropped up during our chat was fear. The fear of childbirth (tokophobia), fear of pregnancy and even the fear of trying for a baby.

When you think about it, these fears are justified. Pregnancy and birth is a life changing and somewhat unpredictable process. Infertility is deeply upsetting. Miscarriage is surprisingly common. Many of us live far from our mother or sisters and are the first of our social group to have children. Our first real experience of pregnancy and babies comes with our own. Yet there is a counter-argument that it is all completely normal and that women have been giving birth since the human race began.

But pregnancy isn’t all that normal in our society. Most women in the UK and the US will only do it once or twice in their lifetime, compared to some countries where women have an average of 6 or even 7 babies. (Niger has a birth rate of 7.19 and Afghanistan has 7.07 compared to the US at 2.10 and the UK at 1.66). My ‘hometown’ of Guernsey ranks only a little above China’s birth rate at 1.40.

Neither is the process of childbirth seen as normal, instead the American norm requires intrusive tests throughout pregnancy and a highly medicalised labour and birth which is ‘managed’ in order to proceed along a tightly defined curve and frequently results in major surgery.

Of course we all want the best outcome possible during pregnancy and childbirth, but our quest for perfection leads down some very odd routes and the climate of fear begins at preconception. “What if I can’t get pregnant?” My rather flippant answer of course is, “You’ll never know if you don’t try!” but this is where it all starts.

The ‘rules’ are laid down at the start and most of them are sensible and easy to follow – taking folic acid for example prevents a number of birth defects. Avoiding unpasteurised cheese reduces the likelihood of contracting listeria, stopping smoking improves outcomes immensely. But it doesn’t stop there. Many of the ‘rules’ are not evidence based. In fact, many of the ‘better safe than sorry’ rules (such as avoiding all alcohol during pregnancy or avoiding eggs altogether) arise from absolutely no evidence – just a misguided extrapolation that ‘excess alcohol is bad, therefore ALL alcohol is bad’ or ‘raw eggs are bad therefore better to avoid even possibly undercooking an egg.’

I have seen some immense anxiety because a woman had a couple of drinks before realising she was pregnant. The drinks were unlikely to do any harm at all, yet the fear kicked in. Fear and anxiety certainly have a negative effect – on blood pressure, heart rate and mood, all of which can also effect the baby. Yet the media feed on this fear, day after day feeding out non-stories based on misinterpretations of data and on theories rather than studies. Similarly, the medical profession fuel this climate of fear, abetted by lawyers and insurance companies. Pregnancy as an illness is a lucrative concept.

Another source of fear is the weighty sense of responsibility that goes with having a child. There is a perfect balance of physical fitness, ideal weight, financial stability, a suitable home, a secure relationship and career security that many of us long to attain before trying for a baby. Achieving these factors together is very difficult for most of us. When you throw in the time limits of peak fertility ages, it starts to look impossible. Then you have the woeful stories which await any woman who dares to get pregnant in her forties.

Of course we want the best for our baby, but sometimes you just have to go with ‘good enough’ – many women feel healthier and fitter naturally during pregnancy – the body does wonderful things to prepare itself for birth. And money and housing can be stretched.

Tokophobia, the fear of childbirth is the biggest fear of all for some women. It is considered a valid reason for an elective caesarean section and it is a fairly reasonable fear – after all, childbirth hurts. The situation is not helped by the portrayal of birth on television or by often exaggerated horror stories of birth. However ’secondary’ tokophobia is increasingly common. This is a fear which occurs in second or third pregnancies (or even later) and is rooted in previous birth trauma.

Birth trauma rates are rising dramatically and contribute to postnatal depression and other mood disorders. Birth trauma also significantly affects breastfeeding and bonding and has similar symptoms to post-traumatic stress disorder. While the term a ‘negative’ birth experience is somewhat vague, the causes may be very specific to a woman experiencing it. A sense of aloneness during labour, a sense of not being listened to, an arrogant or dismissive medical professional. Many women report that birth trauma arises from a sense of violation – a procedure or intervention that was conducted without their consent. For example, several women I have spoken to have found the amniotomy – breaking the amniotic sac with a ‘crochet hook’ like instrument to encourage labour to have been particularly traumatising, both visually and physically, although this is a common hospital intervention, albeit with limited medical evidence supporting its usage.

It is amazing to me that mortality rates are relatively low, yet birth fear is rising. Yet it is totally understandable. A normal hospital birth carries a high risk of birth trauma. Home births, birth centre births and doula attended births are all showed to greatly increase the mother’s feeling of satisfaction with the birth experience and reduce rates of postnatal depression.

The only way to ease the fear is to normalise birth. To show that it can be a safe, family centred event. To stop marginalising natural childbirth as a hippy or bohemian concept. To educate women that birth is a normal life event.

And most importantly that when left to its own devices, the body can do wonderful things. All the pitocin and medication are poor substitutes for the body’s natural hormones which are inhibited by fear and an artificial environment. When we labour in safety, our own endorphins are released freely and are a natural painkiller, helping us through the process.

What is clear is that in any stage from preconception right through to parenting a teenager, fear, anxiety and guilt are destructive, psychologically and physically. Take up yoga, take a hot bath, have a beer. But do try to relax.

It’s good for you!

The BBC today are reporting that Michael Odent is arguing against the presence of dads in the delivery room.

It is only in recent history that fathers have been allowed to be present at a hospital birth. It is also commonly thought that they are a reassuring presence and that women want them to be there.

Odent however, argues that they inhibit the flow of oxytocin, the hormone which encourages and supports labour.

Perhaps though, it is not simply a male presence which inhibits oxytocin, it is anxiety.

The problem with a dad in the delivery room is that unless he happens to be a midwife, obstetrician or similar, he is likely to be unfamiliar with the process of birth. He will also be anxious about his partner. She’s in pain, for heaven’s sake! Someone help her! He will maybe hang on the word of medical staff and stare at beeping monitors, rather than being the emotional support his partner needs. He may well be asking if things are normal and worry at the first sign of trouble (like a nervous passenger on a plane).

And there’s the other problem. Labour is messy and it can be a little undignified. His partner may not be altogether comfortable with her sexual partner seeing her in this way. Because let’s face it, there’s grunting and mooing, there may well be pooing and there’s goo galore. Being inhibited or worried about appearance isn’t good for the labour process.

Now, all that said, we’re talking about life partners, and we’re talking about the father of the baby. Doesn’t he deserve to see this miraculous event and welcome his new baby? And don’t you want him there to hold your hand?

The Bradley ‘husband coached’ method is as it sounds. For followers of Bradley, the dad’s role is very important, although with the best will in the world, he may surrender his position once into hospital territory and medical staff ‘take over.’

One solution here is a doula, a lay-woman trained and familiar with the process of childbirth. A doula need not replace the dad unless the couple specifically want this. In normal cases, she complements their partnership.

A doula serves many purposes. She is there primarily to provide comfort and support to the mother, through coping techniques which might include massage, breathing, aromatherapy, positioning and visualisation. She also is clearheaded and not emotionally attached so that she can help a woman to get the birth she wants, helping her to communicate her needs and wants. She can also support the dad.

The presence of the doula actually frees up the dad to concentrate on emotional support, loving his partner and serving her emotional needs. While he may help her with her breathing or offer massages or suggestions, he no longer has the sense of responsibility or the demand to remember everything from birth classes – the doula may in fact help him out with reminders, ‘Hey dad, maybe she just needs you to breathe with her.. like this’ and if they’re doing fine, she may just sit back, or do something simple for the couple, like a hand massage. Many dads feel deeply relieved by the decision to have a doula on the birth team.

Numerous studies have shown that a doula supported birth shortens labours considerably, reduces complications and caesarean rate and reduces the need for pain relief or epidural. They have also found that women are more satisfied with their birth experience and their babies breastfeed more easily and have less special care admissions and shorter hospital stays.

As an afterthought, oxytocin is a bonding hormone and a love hormone. It is my belief that birth can be family centered and a birth can do wonders for bonding a whole family, mother, father and siblings, with one another and with the baby. This is why I believe that dads have a role in the delivery room at home or in the hospital and that they should (if both partners want) be allowed to experience this amazing day. But they must be free to provide emotional, instinctive support and not be worried about what they ’should’ be doing. For my last birth, I found dad and doula were the perfect team!

To find out more information on doulas, try DONA (Doulas of North America) or Doula UK. Doulas are also available to help during pregnancy (planning a birth plan for example) and to help postpartum.

If you’re in San Diego and expecting, I also offer doula services. Drop me an email!

I was excited and a little starstruck to meet Ricki Lake and director, Abby Epstein last week at a party to celebrate the release of their new book, Your Best Birth which was followed by a screening of their excellent documentary, The Business of Being Born.

Katharyne of Shinemama.com meeting Ricki Lake

The party was held at the gorgeous Babies in Bloom boutique in Vista, CA which specialises in cloth diapers (real nappies), slings and breastfeeding equipment and was attended by a crowd of San Diego birth specialists. It was a very special evening and I feel very lucky that I had the chance to meet Ricki and Abby and thank them for making such an important, eye-opening movie.

They showed that midwifery and home birth are real, plausible options for modern, intelligent women. For someone with Ricki’s status to throw herself into such a project and allow footage of her baby’s birth to be included is really incredible.

Their new website is called My Best Birth and I can’t wait to see how their community develops.

As an advocate for home birth, I have faced incredulity and confusion from a culture that believes that hospital is the safest place for birth. As a woman who has given birth at home, I have also faced a usually unspoken accusation. An accusation that what I did was selfish – that I was risking my baby’s life on a whim.

When faced with this and explaining why I chose to give birth at home, I have had to pick my arguments carefully. I can argue with statistics and science. I can argue emotively. Or I can tell my story.

And BIRTH, The Play makes its argument with stories. Eight women tell their stories of giving birth in the USA. Much like The Vagina Monologues, the stories are based upon interviews with over one hundred women and are presented as monologues with moments of dialogue.

As in reality, each birth in the play is different. Each woman has her own feelings and preferences, each pregnancy presents with different challenges and each woman has a different home life and social support system.

BIRTH takes away the statistics and looks at the notion of choice and the emotion of each birth. There are moments of beauty and moments of absolute terror. One woman described her progress through labour against the odds of a clockwatching, doubtful obstetrician, the baby finally crowning and her exultation as she was about to push it into the world, only to scream, “Don’t cut me! Don’t cut me!” as the doctor insisted on an apparently unnecessary episiotomy at the last moment.

The sense of despair, terror and violation was palpable, and it was these moments that were so chilling and resonated in the audience.

The play was not anti-intervention. One woman was satisfied with her planned caesarean birth and went on to repeat it. Yet another woman’s caesarean under undue pressure saw the sinister green cloth raised and her tears and bitterness. She described the removal of the baby as a death, that her body was pregnant one moment then empty the next. The shock of BIRTH was in these moments where a choice was denied and the woman’s body violated without consent. The moments when a woman was lied to about the size of her baby or pressured into unwanted interventions. These moments were nothing short of horror.

BIRTH explores the great contrast of births. Against these moments of fear, it also considers pain. That pain is anguishing and impossible in a context of fear, but that it can be good and positive when the fear is removed. We see the triumph and joy of a functioning body when it is allowed to function. The woman who shouts, ‘MY BODY ROCKS!’

Having dismissed the cliches of sitcom births, BIRTH managed to show how things could be different. Indeed, the woman with the terrifying caesarean considered running away to Tennessee with her mother-in-law to birth at Ina May Gaskin’s fabled ‘Farm’ birth centre. It wasn’t to be, but the audience could imagine the flight of fantasy, and we identified with her yearning to escape the operating theatre and the restraints of the table.

Catharsis came in the final birth story – the fourth birth of Jillian who finally achieved a home birth, surrounded by her closest friends, whispering good wishes until her baby arrives in a final triumphant moment, a moment more subtle and gentle than the ‘MY BODY ROCKS!’ lady, but the sentiment no less powerful.

BIRTH was performed by a group of birth professionals, midwives, doulas and other women committed to making birth positive. It was authentic and compelling, with moments that any woman who has given birth could identify with. It didn’t write off caesareans, doctors or intervention as evil but it showed them honestly – we saw a moment of panic as an epidural caused blood pressure to drop. We saw the fear of a paralysed bowel, a caesarean complication. But we also saw the relief as an epidural took away the pain in labour. BIRTH was honest about the benefits and risks of such, without resorting to statistics.

And that’s what BIRTH is – the human face of statistics. I can show you many figures that show that home birth is safe. Indeed, the latest research fresh in from Canada is a study of 13,000 low risk women – just the sort of women that BIRTH is about. It shows home birth to have a slightly lower rate of perinatal (infant) mortality, and far lower rates of complications including haemorhage, infection, serious tears and uterine rupture. In short, that home birth is safer.

These statistics sound impressive and might win an argument of logic but they’re only half of the story.

The true story is that birth is an important, vital event. In BIRTH, it is described as ‘Just one day’ – that a woman can suffer for ‘just one day’ and can put up with a doctor she hates, who can’t remember her name, for ‘just one day’ – but what we learn is that the events of that day will change her life completely, mentally and physically. That it will be engraved in her memory indelibly. Whether she felt loved and supported or whether she suffered.

So perhaps I need the statistics to prove that I’m not being ’selfish’ in a choice to home birth and that it is a sensible, considered option, but I also need the story to show why. Why I accepted the ‘pain’ rather than opting for a caesarean or an epidural. Why giving birth is so important. In BIRTH, every story had an impact, but the most empty story to me was the planned caesarean. It was quick, easy and the mother had a healthy baby and painful but manageable recovery. She chose to repeat the experience uneventfully. But this story felt like it had something missing. No real moment of triumph or ecstasy to compare with the women who pushed their babies out and screamed with joy. Risks and benefits, medical pros and cons aside, this moment was to me conspicuous in its absence. But that is a personal feeling, and as BIRTH so neatly pointed out, giving birth is a personal decision, but should be a decision freely made, and fully informed – and the reason that birth activists are so fiercely trying to make women aware of their power to choose is that this information is not as easily come by (or as honestly given) as we might think.

This play was an important community event, presented by women on the front line of birth to a room including a great many pregnant women. At a time when healthcare is so hotly debated, this issue should not be swept aside – women, their babies and their partners deserve more, and they deserve the birth they want. After all, it’s just one day.

Welcome to this new blog.

This will be a space to talk about parenthood.  About trying to conceive, pregnancy, birth, parenthood and every little nuance in between.  There won’t always be full agreement, but this is a safe space where we can treat one another with kindness.  I aim to take a holistic view, balancing science and emotion, mind and body.  To be evidence-led, but also to consider the more ethereal, more difficult to define moments along the journey of parenthood.

My reason for beginning this blog is that how we welcome our children to the world and facilitate their journey to adolescence and beyond is important. Beyond important.  It’s vital.  It’s vital to the future of society.  This journey undertaken by every family who nurture a new life should be foremost in the minds of all forward thinking politicians, of all planners and constructors of society.

At the very start of this journey is the first hour.  The baby’s arrival and the hour that follows.  An hour where the baby gazes at surroundings, at family and most of all at their mother.  The gaze is returned and eye contact sustained.  The baby is quiet, alert and receptive.  Bonding can begin.  The breastfeeding relationship can begin.  This first hour is just one hour in the life of mother and child, but will never be repeated.

“The hour following birth is undoubtedly one of the most critical phases in the life of human beings. It is not by chance that all human groups have routinely disturbed the physiological processes in this short period of time, via beliefs and rituals. Our cultural milieus are to a great extent shaped at the very beginning of the mother-newborn interaction.” Michael Odent MD

Birth is important.  While it is not the end of the world if birth doesn’t go how we expect and it is of course never too late to make up for lost time, this first hour is ideally the most potent time to start paving the way for the future journey.  An hour in which mama, baby and the rest of the family begin to weave the first stitches of an intricate and unique fabric that will wrap around their family unit and keep them safe as they walk along that path.

The science is supporting us.  Oxytocin, adrenaline and endorphins are described as a ‘complex cocktail of love hormones’ and will likely never peak so high again as in this moment if the birth is allowed to progress naturally.

Let’s make the best of our first hour…