childbirth

Birth Matters: A Midwife's Manifesta

mandy — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 20:00:00 +0000

When I saw Birth Matters by famed midwife Ina May Gaskin, I jumped at the opportunity to read and review it. Gaskin has contributed to the field of midwifery and childbirth education in vast and meaningful ways. She serves as an icon for many, and I, for one, was eager to learn what she had to say in this new book.

Having already read extensively on the subject of pregnancy, labor, and birth, I found that Gaskin’s book did not reveal anything completely new. However, where other authors have had to rely mostly on secondhand knowledge and data collected elsewhere, Gaskin was able to insert personal stories and years of experience into her writing. This obviously added quite a bit of authority to what she had to say.

Besides the strength in her convictions, Gaskin brought to her writing a powerful feminist stance and a tremendous feeling of sisterhood. She does not only claim to believe in women; she lives this message. Her unwavering trust in women’s bodies and capacities to make the right choices for them based on unbiased, accurate information felt every bit as empowering as I’m sure she meant it.

The issue at hand, however, is that women in the United States today are being fed a host of half-truths and even outright lies that directly affect their decision-making when it comes to pregnancy and childbirth. For instance, Caesarean sections are being promoted as easier, pain-free means of giving birth. But are they really? How come we rarely hear about the risk factors involved in this serious abdominal surgical procedure? Why is it that the United States has higher infant and maternal mortality rates than other developed countries?

According to Gaskin, Americans are relying too much on modern technologies and not enough on the wisdom passed down through generations or the innate knowledge that women’s bodies have about giving birth. Instead of fetoscopes, there is a higher reliance on electronic fetal monitors. Rather than allowing the baby to emerge in its own time, medical professionals are utilizing Cytotec to induce labor even though the drug is not FDA-approved for this purpose. Some feminists believe that reproductive technologies will help even the playing field, or even erase biological differences that could potentially hold them back in the fight for equality. For Gaskin, this perspective fails to see the beauty and strength that a birthing woman exudes, not to mention the natural mechanisms that are in place to assist a laboring woman during this life-changing time.

Besides the wealth of information that Gaskin provides, the parts of Birth Matters that touched me most were the birth stories that were interspersed throughout. Each account shares extensive detail about the mother’s sensations during the entire process of labor and delivery. I couldn't help but tear up as I read them because they captured so much warmth, power, and love. In the end, it is exactly this that Gaskin wants to share with the world.

Written by: Shana Mattson, April 14th 2011

Get Me Out: A History of Childbirth from the Garden of Eden to the Sperm Bank

admin — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 09:00:00 +0000

By Randi Hutter Epstein

W.W. Norton

When researching medical or social history, one of the things that often becomes apparent is the level of mystery that surrounded women’s bodies and bodily functions. This mystery and speculation is the subject of Randi Hutter Epstein’s Get Me Out. As the title suggests, Hutter Epstein, a medical journalist, presents an overview of ideas related to conception, pregnancy, and childbirth spanning from antiquity to the modern day. While it is easy to laugh at some of the mistaken notions from the past (and some of them are, indeed, hilarious and/or terrifying), Hutter Epstein also makes sure to note the unknowns that still surround these processes today.

One thing that Get Me Out makes very clear is the way in which pregnancy and childbirth—and, therefore, women’s bodies—have continuously been the subjects of experimentation. This has sometimes been to women’s benefit, but all too often to their detriment. Early medical texts were written by monks who were not only excluded from the delivery room due to their gender (only women were allowed to attend childbirth) but were also likely completely unfamiliar with women’s bodies, leading to a lot of guesswork. Hutter Epstein describes disturbing experiments on female slaves that did eventually produce positive results, but at unknown cost to the women experimented upon. Another type of experimentation Hutter Epstein recounts is pain suppression during childbirth. Get Me Out describes the contradictory views of women towards drug use during childbirth over time: from these drugs being a part of women’s liberation to the drugs being a tool of subjugation.

The key strengths of Get Me Out are the fascinating nature of the information it provides and the book’s readability. Get Me Out is incredibly engaging. As Hutter Epstein notes in the title, this is a history; she does not attempt to tell the history. This approach allows her to describe some of the high (or low) points of ideas and processes from antiquity to the nineteenth century in the first few chapters, and then focus the rest of the book on the twentieth century. Even with the volume of material presented, I appreciated that Hutter Epstein did not rigidly confine herself to the topic at hand. The book is peppered with footnotes that provide additional, often tangential, information. At one point, the author uses a footnote to discuss the differences in the sperm trade between humans and thoroughbred horses. It is clear that Hutter Epstein has a very curious mind, which has led to her creating an interesting, funny, illuminating, enjoyable book.

Written by: Erin Schowalter, December 27th 2009

The Blue Cotton Gown: A Midwife’s Memoir

admin — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 09:10:00 +0000

By Patricia Harman

Beacon Press

By the time Patricia Harman finished writing The Blue Cotton Gown, she was no longer working as a midwife. Instead, soaring malpractice fees had caused The Women’s Health Clinic of Torrington, West Virginia, a practice Harman runs with her husband, Dr. Tom Harman, to provide only general obstetrical and gynecological care to the patients it serves.

Harman is a nurse-practitioner and her memoir tracks a handful of women for approximately a year, zeroing in on the many variables that impact their health and well being: rampant drug and alcohol abuse, poverty, violence, mental illness, and inadequate information about staying healthy, among them. It’s a gripping account. At the same time, the book is as much a meditation on aging, marriage, and parenthood as it is a look at the obstacles and challenges endemic to the provision of healthcare in the U.S. This makes it both intensely moving and intensely, if obliquely, political.

Harman describes herself and her spouse as former hippies, people who found their professional calling in their thirties, after years of organic farming and communal living. Their countercultural impulses have made them compassionate, and their work is motivated by love of medicine, not love of the dollar. Not surprisingly, these tendencies have led to managerial problems. To whit, an inattention to finances—and way too much trust in accountants who could care less about the Harman’s ethos of providing the best care for the best price—led to monetary miscalculations that threatened to shutter the practice. When the IRS came calling, tensions built and the Harmans and their ten-person staff had to work tirelessly to forge a survival strategy. They did—the practice was saved—but not without both dents and dings to numerous personal relationships.

Meanwhile, they had patients to deal with and their own personal crises to address. Harman calls it “running in front of a plague of locusts.” There is Nila, pregnant for the eighth time, who fears that her ex-husband is molesting her four-year-old. There is Heather, a teenager pregnant by a nineteen-year-old drug addict, and Holly, a forty-five-year-old menopausal realtor whose bulimic daughter is perched on death’s window ledge. And there’s Rebba, worried because she has never had an orgasm, and Shiana, a college student who needs to have a condom extracted from behind her cervix.

Closer to home, the elderly parents of staff get sick and Harman, herself, becomes ill. Within the span of a few months she needs to have a gangrenous gall bladder removed and has a complete hysterectomy.

Throughout, there are constant money troubles—big ones—and the tension and stress are palpably presented. To her credit, Harman is not looking for either sympathy or accolades but her matter-of-fact descriptions of how difficult it is to provide high quality, patient-centered care is simultaneously enraging and shocking. While she never discusses the need for a national health plan—she also barely mentions abortion as an option for her oft-pregnant patients—her chronicle of the trials and tribulations of one nurse practitioner is riveting.

Yes, The Blue Cotton Gown could have been more politically prescriptive. Nonetheless, readers will find their immersion in the daily affairs of this off-the-beaten-track health center emotionally engaging, engrossing, and inspiring. Indeed, in an era of rampant medical discontent, the determination and persistence of Harman and her Torrington colleagues seems almost miraculous.

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, June 17th 2009

Three Sisters

admin — Tue, 12 May 2009 17:10:00 +0000

Television Trust for the Environment

Bullfrog Films

Three Sisters is part of the Life Series collection which is funded by BBC World and TVE International. The episodes are meant for classroom use from grades seven to twelve, or even college age. This particular episode focuses on the women of Eritrea, a small country near Ethiopia, Sudan, and Somalia. After fighting alongside men in a fifty-year war for their country's independence from Ethiopia, Eritrean women also won their personal independence. The Life Series follows Belainesh, a member of the Women's Union who is doing community outreach and eduction in the rural parts of Eritrea. She meets three women who are sisters, each battling against a different tradition.

The first sister we are introduced to is Leyla, who is trying to decide whether to circumcise her youngest daughter, even though she knows the methods used are not entirely safe. Female circumcision is performed because it is believed that if a girl is not circumcised, she will not become a true woman. There are many risks to being circumcised because it is done at a young age (under one year old) and is often performed by an elder of the tribe, who may not have full seeing abilities. The wrong area being cut could lead to infection, or even death.

Another woman, Amena, is thirty-five years old and has given birth to all six of her children at her home with no problems. Amena is pregnant again, but now has the option of giving birth at a midwife's clinic, something that was not previously available to her.

The last woman, Howa, is twenty-nine and has four children. She has an opportunity to receive land from the government, but is debating whether she should plow the land herself, given that women are not traditionally allowed to plow.

Belainesh interacts with each of these women in this episode, and informs them of the risks they face if they follow their Eritrean traditions. Belainesh believes Leyla will most likely not circumsize her daughter and Howa will eventually plow her own land, but Amena is still unsure if she is willing to break tradition and give birth outside of her home. The women know that they will eventually take steps toward different life choices, but breaking ties with tradition is a slow and complicated process.

Written by: Chrissie Thornburg, May 12th 2009

Orgasmic Birth

admin — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 10:59:00 +0000

Directed by Debra Pascali-Bonaro

As an aspiring doula and having grown up with a mother who was a licensed midwife, I have seen a myriad of birth videos. I would honestly say, however, that Orgasmic Birth is the best and most enjoyable birth video I have ever seen.

The overall purpose of the film is to encourage women to view birth as an organic process in which they are able to exercise complete control. Stories of several couples are presented to provide proof that this is indeed a possibility. Orgasmic Birth does a wonderful job of including stories and labor experiences that are as intriguing as the title.

The first couple we meet is having their baby in their backyard. In the post-labor interview the father explains how much he enjoyed telling his friends that his baby was born “On the deck, 3:00 p.m., on a Sunday.” I was instantly intrigued.

Although the birth scenes in the film were idealized in that they happened in pleasant circumstances (imagine that), I appreciated that the filmmakers did not hide the reality of the process; it can often be long and, yes, painful. Despite these dynamics, birth is something that most women are capable of.

By this point you are perhaps wondering about the orgasmic connection to the film. While I do not want to ruin any of the particularly climatic portions, I assure you that the title is not just for shock value (as some people I have spoken to have assumed). The professionals in the film tastefully describe the manner in which birth is simply a part of a woman’s sexual life. There is more to this than mere theory; women experience the highest levels of oxytocin during labor, and as a result, twenty percent of women have an orgasm sometime during the birth process.

The film does an extraordinary job providing an alternative perspective to the traditional view of birth in the United States and does emphasize natural home births. However, this is done in a very nonjudgmental way, which is evidenced by the variety of birth professionals in the film, including some hospital practitioners.

As is common in current birth videos and literature, the issue of cesarean sections was thoroughly explored in the film. This is done not so much to criticize specific practitioners or women who have had the procedure, but to promote the empowering ideology on which the film is based. The information given is also clearly meant to educate first time parents, and I found it valuable.

Orgasmic Birth is a groundbreaking film exploring that is sure to not only change the way birth is portrayed in educational films, but also the experience of expectant parents who have the opportunity to view it.

Written by: Janice Formichella, April 10th 2009

Labor Pains and Birth Stories: Essays on Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Becoming a Parent

admin — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 10:36:00 +0000

Edited by Jessica Powers

Catalyst Book Press

There is no older and greater story than childbirth. Pregnancy. Fertility. Life.

For women, who carry the impossible miracle of bringing life into the world, birth and labor reflect the diverse experiences of our lives and livelihood. Our process through medical care, partners, health, choice, and mystery are as different as the children we birth.

Labor Pains and Birth Stories is a small mirror of that richness. With twenty-nine compelling essays of pain and strength, each glimpse these writers provide validates the awesomeness and depth of the process of pregnancy. Written from mostly women authors, Powers weaves together a tapestry of debate, conflict, joy, and uncertainty all through the common practice of story-telling our lives.

One of the most compelling essays is "La Promesa de Esperanza," written by Noemi Martinez, which stands considerably unique in its own corner with its sorrowful honesty and bravery. Martinez is a single mother of two, who embraces her tangled web of religion, abuse, and isolation: "This birth of myself into who I am now was a process of layers being built and torn down, reconstructed. Pieced together now, I’m an installation, a collage."

Another distinct essay came with an emotional avalanche. The book had to be temporarily put aside as I wept into Elisabeth Aron’s words, "The Birth Story of Miles," who tenderly remembers the joy and grief of her journey with her son Miles. Her writing is simple and knowing; every detail delivers a clear stroke of her memory, and even readers unfamiliar with pregnancy and birth will connect with this exceptional piece.

The backgrounds of these parents show the diversity of their stories. The undercurrent of their stories hints at class differences and whether they could afford international adoption or uninsured fertility treatment. Their individual voices speak a multitude of languages: different cultural practices and observations, how their pregnancy was viewed by their communities, how much support and education they were given throughout their process.

Not only are the individual literary essays gifts for those seeking comfort and company in their own birthing experience; the collection as a whole can be used for critical analysis as to how the world not only accepts children, but how we treat and care for mothers as well.

Written by: Lisa Factora-Borchers, April 9th 2009

Baby Love: Choosing Motherhood after a Lifetime of Ambivalence

admin — Mon, 09 Jul 2007 13:05:00 +0000

By Rebecca L. Walker

Riverhead

After reading the first few pages of Baby Love in the aisle of a midtown Manhattan Barnes and Noble, I bought a brand new hardcover copy. In recent interviews Walker has said that this is the book she wishes she'd had to read when she was in her twenties. I thank her for writing it. While much of the memoir focuses on the minutiae of Walker's pregnancy—foods eaten, clothing purchased, websites trolled and unnecessary arguments had—her larger commentary on the absence of intergenerational discussions between older and younger feminists about childbirth—save the advice that we have plenty of time—is what most interested and inspired me.

Rebecca, now at thirty-seven, is the daughter of feminist icon and celebrated author Alice Walker. Their tempestuous relationship underscores much of the text, and the trials of motherhood—chosen (Rebecca's) and seemingly ambivalent (Alice's)—and illustrates the complexities of the discussion Rebecca wishes feminists were having both amongst ourselves and, indeed, out there with the rest of the world. "Fertility is finite" she warns, and she encourages young women to take heed and plan having babies just as ardently as her mother's generation urged us to plan careers and develop ourselves into whole people. Her musings on motherhood have gotten her a lot of flack in the press recently. Most infamously, the chapter about her relationship with her stepson, Solomon, has gained attention for her assertion that the love one experiences for a child one has carried to term and given birth to differs from that of a child who has become yours through adoption or marriage or family arrangement. Rebecca Walker is not comparing one love to the other, but is merely saying there are different kinds of love, and all should be valued equally, even in their difference.

Walker's second memoir concludes with the birth story of her son, Tenzin, named after His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the statement "I have no regrets." Ultimately, Walker is encouraging young feminists to be as decisive about our choices to mother or not to mother as we have been about other parts of our lives. In a time when birth in the U.S. has turned into such a profitable industry for insurance companies, hospitals and advertisers, women's reproductive choices—from abortion to the choice to give birth and mother—are as important as ever. Baby Love calls our attention to a hardly discussed topic among young feminists: breaking through the ambivalence around motherhood that is fostered through the constant conflict between second wave feminism telling us that we have plenty of time and the larger establishment pushing us to be mothers because we can, instead of because we choose to.

Written by: Aisha Domingue, July 9th 2007

The Invisible Sex: Uncovering the True Roles of Women in Prehistory

admin — Mon, 09 Apr 2007 02:30:00 +0000

By J.M. Adovasio, Olga Soffer, Jake Page

Smithsonian Books

Quick, name the world's oldest profession! It's not what you think, say the authors of The Invisible Sex. The world's oldest profession is, most likely, midwifery. The combination of larger brains and narrower pelvises required adaptations that led to women no longer being able to give birth solo. The book's title itself illustrates the thesis: were women truly invisible in societies of the past, or did they become so because of anthropologists' biases? Is the notion of worldwide patriarchy truth or, as everyone's favorite misogynist might say, projection? And what is "woman," anyway? Not all "women" are biologically female; the reverse is more rare, but also happens

It seems that each time a co-author is added to the roster, the resulting tome becomes vastly more unreadable. At 279 pages dense with information, The Invisible Sex is not for the faint of heart, but still very readable. It should be a required reading for those interested in anthropology and feminism. The authors pile on example upon example of unfounded assumptions that seemed self-evident to (male) anthropologists in the past. The skeletons that archaeologists unearthed and proclaimed to be female or male are not thus stamped, and the assumptions on which this determination was based (i.e. males are bigger or females don't hunt), in retrospect, seem flimsy. It is unlikely that women stayed in the cave awaiting the man who "brought home the bacon," yet that is the image most people have of prehistory. Maybe this is why we say, however jokingly, that prostitution is the world's oldest profession. Feminism did not explode the assumptions of prehistoric archaeology until 1984; fortunately, great strides have been made since then. This book is one of them.

Written by: Vita Foster, April 8th 2007

At Highest Risk

admin — Sun, 11 Mar 2007 00:25:00 +0000

Directed by Rebecca Rivas

Documentary Educational Resources

Watching this film made me realize all the things I take for granted - for instance, the advanced practices we have in maternal medicine. Overall, At Highest Risk is about the conditions, process and risks Andean women endure, especially in the last months of pregnancy until the birth of the baby. A huge part of the film concentrates on certain laws and solutions that have been put into effect by the community and society in order to avoid complications or, worse, death due to giving birth. Some of these include sterilization, moving to a clinic in the last months of pregnancy and issuing fining those who give birth at home.

The audience is introduced to an expecting mother named Judyth, who expresses concerns with family, friends and others about the birthing process in her town of Ccapacmarca. Each scene furthers us to a better understanding of the health care system in place for these women. At one point in the film, the audience is witness to a birth and the different tradition and ceremonies that take place after. The high point of the film is, of course, the outcome of Judyth’s pregnancy and her choice to combine both western medicine and traditional beliefs. Will she keep the keep the traditional beliefs and does she have complications she feared having?

At Highest Risk was very interesting to watch and brought to mind not just all of the advances in maternal medicine that Western women have, but all the advances in general.

Written by: Adriana Monrreal, March 10th 2007

I Will Have an Army of Clones. We Will Be So Charming.

admin — Sun, 18 Feb 2007 18:17:00 +0000

By Tina Seamonster

Tina Seamonster’s new book, I Will Have an Army of Clones. We Will Be So Charming., a collection of blog entries from her website, is an exploration of change. It maps with sweet intensity the shifts between weight gain and loss, pregnancy and childbirth. This is not, however, an online journal that is interesting only to the immediate family and friends of the blogger. Tina takes us through her struggles with tinted, punk rock, DIY glasses, determined to be seen (both through her blog site, as well as through the parading rainbow shades of her hair) while cherishing those who are not (by adopting a local panhandling woman as a surrogate grandmother).

Many books, magazines, television shows and the like deal with the trials of weight loss from a comfortable distance, recording the after-effects of a successful weight management plan through the eyes of a person happily transformed, or strategizing from the viewpoint of a nutritionist or a personal trainer, who are blissfully unaware of the real effort behind what Seamonster terms “The Great Smallening.” Seamonster’s entries take the reader into the struggle of the everyday, through a narrative vision that is anything but typical. However thrilled she is at unearthing the bones hidden underneath her previous weight, she is equally as fearful of losing it. “I worry that I won’t be pretty if I lose too much weight,” she says. “I will always be a big girl and I love that.”

Her biggest transformation manifests itself in the creation of new life. Catapulted into the world of duplicate motherhood, she champions her double pregnancy with cheerful determination. Rallying against a sometimes ambivalent doctor and the typical money trials of the majority of new young parents, Tina catalogues her experiences with a youthful confidence. Shape shifting Tina does not only alter her physical self, but also her imaginative self – transforming from archaeologist to sea captain, panda bear to geographer with ease between blog entries. Although the reader of Seamonster’s journey book form may feel immediate pangs of loss when faced with the end of its pages, Tina Seamonster’s personas (both physical and imaginative) continue playfully online; her punk rock stroll through motherhood still evolving with each entry.

Written by: Emily Dunster, February 18th 2007