more thoughts on the birthing space

I have appreciated the recent thought-provoking discussion in connection with the previous post in this blog, which is also linked to Carolyn Hastie's thinkbirth blog.

In the past couple of weeks I have attended three births; two at home and one in hospital. These three mothers were 'first timers'; primipara; a special category worthy of consideration in any maternity setting.

Picture this scene:

A woman is labouring strongly and consistently in an inflated birthing pool, set up in her home.  It's 2 or 3 in the morning, the 'wee hours', when everyone is overcome by weariness.  Her man, whose sleep was interrupted by early labour the previous night, is asleep on a couch.  The midwife is nearby - within reach but dropping off to sleep between contractions, occasionally mumbling words of encouragement.  The student midwife is stretched out on another couch. There is a little light from a lamp or candle; the birthing space is quiet except for the sounds of the labour.  

After some time, the woman's sounds become deeper.  Her midwife encourages her "let your baby come down deep in your body; feel the fullness; you're doing well", and listens to the fetal heart after a contraction.  The woman does not notice that the 'period pain' she had been experiencing has gone.  In fact she has stopped thinking about her labour and has surrendered to the work that her body is doing.

By the time the early signs of daylight are peeping through the cracks in the blinds, the urge to push has become strong.  Daddy-to-be and student midwife are awake; midwife is awake and ready; and mother gives birth, through the water, to her first child.  Mother and child complete the mysterious dance of birth, as baby searches for the breast, and the placenta is expelled.

Today I would like to reflect on recent primipara births, and (without identifying individual women) discuss how the birthing space has supported these births. In the past 18 months, approximately, I have attended 10 women giving birth for the first time. 

Before looking at the birthing spaces, here is an overview of these births.  Of the 10 women:

• 10 came into spontaneous labour; which became strong as the night progressed (there's something special about night and birth!)
• 5 gave birth in water: 4 at home; 1 at hospital
• 2 planned hospital birth; both gave birth spontaneously to healthy babies
• 8 planned home birth
• 5 gave birth at home to healthy babies, without complication
• 3 who planned home birth transferred from home to hospital in labour
• 2 proceeded to spontaneous unmedicated births of healthy babies
• 1 was delivered of a healthy baby by emergency Caesarean surgery

The ages of these women ranged from 24 to 37.
The length of gestation ranged from 36 to less than 42 weeks.
The weights of these babies ranged from 2670g to 4250g.
All babies breastfed from birth.
The estimated blood loss for the 9 women who gave birth spontaneously ranged from 100 to 600ml.


I want to make a point here, which may be obvious to some, yet others may find it a challenging statement in the maternity environment in Australia.
Place of birth - home or hospital - is not a measure of good midwifery care.
Yet the decision to plan homebirth is a huge statement of intent, by the woman, that her plan is for spontaneous, unassisted, unmedicated birth.  Those who plan homebirth with an experienced midwife are able, I believe, to proceed down the path of physiological birth if that is feasible, with a high degree of safety.  Those who plan homebirth, then make an informed decision to transfer their care to hospital because there is an indication - a valid reason - are also able to protect their ability to give birth in harmony with the natural, hormonal, physiological processes that direct labour, birth, and the baby's transition from the womb to the outside world. 

In my previous discussion on birthing spaces I wrote about the physiological phenomenon of *Nesting*.  Understanding normal birth in terms of nesting, as the woman progresses under the influence of an amazing cocktail of hormones, provides a key to the mysteries of birthing.  Nesting supported each of these 10 women, as they came into spontaneous labour.  Nesting supported the three who made a decision in labour to move from home to hospital, and obtain special medical intervention that had become necessary for them.  Nesting supported the choice of position for birth, whether kneeling beside the bed, or squatting in the birth pool, or lying on the bed.

Cessation of nesting happens, I think, when the woman is able to surrender to the huge expulsive urges within her body.  Baby is "coming, ready or not".  Night time and weariness enables this transition to occur without question.  The woman, and her personal support team, have given up trying to understand what's going on; to do it the way they were taught in class.  The midwife is skilled at keeping watch, guiding when needed, without taking control from the woman.

The essential elements of the space for optimal birthing are few.  As long as the woman is able to proceed without interruption; as long as the woman is able to trust her midwife; as long as the woman and her support team are able to hold confidence in the process of birthing ...

... a baby is born.

It just happens.



Your comments are, of course, welcome.

spontaneous birthing

There was no acceptable alternative; no short-cut or easy way.  The labour had established.
The young mother struggled with every surge of uterine activity.  "I can't do it!  I am too tired!", she cried in English, then lots more in another language.
If one of us had been able to step in as proxy; to labour and give birth, or even to do some of the work, and lessen her load, we would have.  Surely it's unfair that the woman has to do it all?

Each time I witness the massive effort that culminates in the unmedicated, unassisted birth of a baby - and particularly a first baby - I am in awe.   The journey that can have many unpredictable and unexpected turns in the path; many forks in the road.  At each decision point, only one way can be taken.  Is this the best way?

As midwife, I hear many voices.  The mother's body, the baby's body, my own mind, the voice of professional and scientific knowledge, and the words of others participating in the birthing journey.

When the mother's mind says "I can't do it! I'm too tired!" I can't just block my ears.

I ask, what does her body tell me?

There is power in these contractions, and I have seen progress over time.
There is strength in this young body.  Her pulse rate is steady and strong.
There is quietness in the moments of resting between contractions.
Is mother well?  At present, yes.

I know we can continue.

I ask, what does her baby's body tell me?

The baby's heart rate is strong and steady.
The contractions, although strong, do not bring any sign of distress in the baby.
The baby's station is progressing with time.
Is baby well?  At present, yes.

I know we can continue.

I ask, what does my own mind tell me?

It's the middle of the night, and my mind is also weary.
I hear the cries.  I know that she is sleep-deprived.
I seek to guide this girl who is being transformed into a mother through this rough terrain.

I will not interrupt or interfere with the amazing metamorphosis; the life-giving struggle that we are witnessing.

I ask, what does professional and scientific knowledge tell me?

Simply this: that there is no safer or more appropriate way for this baby to be brought into the world, than for the midwife to work in harmony with natural physiological processes in labour and birth.
That this woman's body is wonderfully made, that this baby's body is uniquely suited to this mother, and that the process of birth is so much more than delivery of a child from the womb to the outside world.
That the transitions which must take place shortly are best supported in strong, unmedicated birthing.

I know we can continue.

I ask, what do the others - the husband, the friend, the student - tell me?

We are working together, and I am responsible for so much.  These members of the team are looking to me for encouragement and strength.  They do not have the years of life experience that I have, and they are quietly learning to harmonise their actions with those of the labouring woman.

I know we can continue.



We moved to the birthing pool.  The pushing had been ineffective, and the voice "I can't do it, I'm too tired!" was becoming more persistent.

Then, as an expulsive urge was about to go, I saw some fine, thick black hair peep out between the labia, then disappear again.

"I can tell you what colour your baby's hair is" I said.  "Black."

We all laughed.  Babies from their people group all have black hair.


I don't know when the young mother realised that she actually could give birth, that she was giving birth.  But I know and hold onto the look of utter amazement and satisfaction as she took her child into her arms.