How They Get Here
An article titled "The Truth about Epidurals" just made the rounds on Facebook and, of course, like any opinionated gal I just couldn't resist the temptation to throw my two cents in. It's easy to see the epidural issue as a divisive one. One where you must pick a side. Either you're a sane, modern, reasonable woman who will definitely be open to the use of an epidural OR you're an insane, archaic, tree-hugging hippie who will be pushing your baby out while biting down on a leather belt. This topic is sure to rile women up and get us talking. We may not admit it, but we love talking about our birth stories and most people make for great audiences. Hell, our fascination with labour and delivery has given way to a bunch of successful t.v. programs. Of course, you'll need a hearty dose of drama and suspense to set an audience on the edge of their seats, so these shows take the typical birth and ramp it up a notch. There's the ominous male voice-over as they cut to commercial: "A complication puts the life of Betty Sue and her unborn baby in danger!" Of course, complications do happen but I'd wager that they happen far less then we're led to believe in these "reality" shows. If it's not t.v., it's the random women you meet in the drugstore who are itching to tell you their heroic tale of surviving labour.
I had the epidural with my first baby and, quite honestly, I loved it. I went from agony to complete relief in a matter of minutes. From wailing in pain to watching Coronation Street and chatting with my nurses. For a short period of time, the epidural seemed a godsend. That was until Owen's heart-rate dipped and a small army of people came rushing into my room, tossed my legs into stirrups, arranged a blinding NASA light so that it was illuminating my yoo-haw and then announced that I was having this baby. NOW. Then, the epidural screwed me right over. I couldn't feel anything and was relying on nurses to tell me when I was having a contraction. They'd startle me by barking "PUSH!" and counting in a totally unfair way. I'm not stupid, ladies. "1,2,3 you're doing fine, 4, Hang in there this will be over soon, 5,6,7, That's it, 8, 9, Atta girl, 10" is not the same as "1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10". The epidural made me feel weak and, eventually, the Doc just went ahead and hauled Owen outta there. I swear I still wince when I see a pair of BBQ tongs. It was a disappointing and disempowering experience. I felt that labour happened to me and not with me. So, when I got pregnant with my second son, I was very open to having an experience I could say was the polar opposite. And I did. Simon was born in a kiddie pool on the floor of my bedroom. Nobody barked at me, nobody counted.We dimmed the lights and turned on my favourite music. My midwives and doula waited patiently, supporting me all along. He came when he was ready and my body did the work it needed to do to get him here. I was engaged and connected to the whole experience. It was painful, yes. It was also empowering. I'd like to think that I'm proof that homebirthers aren't hairy, tree-hugging hippies. I'm your typical modern girl-no tofu for this kid. No patchouli oil. No birkenstocks.
When we told our families about our plan to stay home to have Simon, it was clear that they weren't crazy about the idea. Mainly, they worried that we wouldn't be as safe as we would be in a hospital. I think we helped to ease their minds by reassuring them that there was plenty of quality research proving that, for healthy, low-risk pregnancies, homebirth is just as safe as hospital birth. Secondly, they thought I'd be begging for the epidural and would be wishing I'd gone to the hospital. Nope and nope. I'm glad that I followed my gut instinct in spite of my loved ones' doubts. After Simon's birth, I was so glad to be in my own bed, beside my husband with my baby sleeping nearby in his cradle. Home sweet home.
Let me be clear, I do not think that drug-free homebirth is the only way to have an empowering experience in labour. If a woman is educated, respected and well-supported, she can do just about anything just about anywhere. Looking back, I realize that I invested more time in researching the purchase of our car than I did in researching childbirth. I didn't make that mistake twice, I read everything I could get my hands on when I was expecting Simon. Being able to make informed choices is, in my opinion, the key to a happy birth story. Turns out that the epidural isn't for me, I only loved it for a half an hour before I felt it was more trouble than it was worth. It's a valid and respectable choice for others though. A facebook friend made a point during our discussion of the article, that stuck with me. Moms feel guilty for all kinds of crap, let's take this one off the table. You don't need to defend your decision to have an epidural and I don't need to defend my decision to have a homebirth. Whether you had an epidural or a C-section or a waterbirth or a homebirth, feeling positive and empowered is a definite bonus but what really counts is what you do with them once they get here.
I had the epidural with my first baby and, quite honestly, I loved it. I went from agony to complete relief in a matter of minutes. From wailing in pain to watching Coronation Street and chatting with my nurses. For a short period of time, the epidural seemed a godsend. That was until Owen's heart-rate dipped and a small army of people came rushing into my room, tossed my legs into stirrups, arranged a blinding NASA light so that it was illuminating my yoo-haw and then announced that I was having this baby. NOW. Then, the epidural screwed me right over. I couldn't feel anything and was relying on nurses to tell me when I was having a contraction. They'd startle me by barking "PUSH!" and counting in a totally unfair way. I'm not stupid, ladies. "1,2,3 you're doing fine, 4, Hang in there this will be over soon, 5,6,7, That's it, 8, 9, Atta girl, 10" is not the same as "1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10". The epidural made me feel weak and, eventually, the Doc just went ahead and hauled Owen outta there. I swear I still wince when I see a pair of BBQ tongs. It was a disappointing and disempowering experience. I felt that labour happened to me and not with me. So, when I got pregnant with my second son, I was very open to having an experience I could say was the polar opposite. And I did. Simon was born in a kiddie pool on the floor of my bedroom. Nobody barked at me, nobody counted.We dimmed the lights and turned on my favourite music. My midwives and doula waited patiently, supporting me all along. He came when he was ready and my body did the work it needed to do to get him here. I was engaged and connected to the whole experience. It was painful, yes. It was also empowering. I'd like to think that I'm proof that homebirthers aren't hairy, tree-hugging hippies. I'm your typical modern girl-no tofu for this kid. No patchouli oil. No birkenstocks.
When we told our families about our plan to stay home to have Simon, it was clear that they weren't crazy about the idea. Mainly, they worried that we wouldn't be as safe as we would be in a hospital. I think we helped to ease their minds by reassuring them that there was plenty of quality research proving that, for healthy, low-risk pregnancies, homebirth is just as safe as hospital birth. Secondly, they thought I'd be begging for the epidural and would be wishing I'd gone to the hospital. Nope and nope. I'm glad that I followed my gut instinct in spite of my loved ones' doubts. After Simon's birth, I was so glad to be in my own bed, beside my husband with my baby sleeping nearby in his cradle. Home sweet home.
Let me be clear, I do not think that drug-free homebirth is the only way to have an empowering experience in labour. If a woman is educated, respected and well-supported, she can do just about anything just about anywhere. Looking back, I realize that I invested more time in researching the purchase of our car than I did in researching childbirth. I didn't make that mistake twice, I read everything I could get my hands on when I was expecting Simon. Being able to make informed choices is, in my opinion, the key to a happy birth story. Turns out that the epidural isn't for me, I only loved it for a half an hour before I felt it was more trouble than it was worth. It's a valid and respectable choice for others though. A facebook friend made a point during our discussion of the article, that stuck with me. Moms feel guilty for all kinds of crap, let's take this one off the table. You don't need to defend your decision to have an epidural and I don't need to defend my decision to have a homebirth. Whether you had an epidural or a C-section or a waterbirth or a homebirth, feeling positive and empowered is a definite bonus but what really counts is what you do with them once they get here.
Excellent blog. I'm beyond the child bearing years but I wish I had been as well informed when I was having my children!
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