Here’s the Thing About Birthing with High Expectations By April Smallwood
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Before I fell pregnant at 34, I rarely thought about birth. I thought about it with the same regularity I think of Rashida Jones. It’s not that I don’t care for the actress (Parks and Recis a seminal show), she just hardly enters my brain space. When I did imagine how that experience might go for me, I figured I’d be “hell yes” to an epidural and compliant to a fault. Just as I am in the hairdresser’s chair, happy to follow whatever the people standing around might suggest.
And yet today, with a bump so bulbous I can’t wipe my dining table without circling its perimeter, my outlook is different. The first turning point came after reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. Within its pages, I found the most magical birth stories as told by the women who midwife paragon Ina May Gaskin had coached and held through labour. Through their experiences, I began to believe that our bodies are capable of birthing with little fuss, and even more radical: that the act of labouring might even be profound and enjoyable; an opportunity to connect with the divine femme within.
As I finished up with the book, I no longer wanted my birth to simply “happen to me”. I wanted to play an active role, if possible. I wanted my husband to be active in it too; more than a hand holder or someone merely watching me “get the job done”. I also began to think of my baby as a star player; she was going to partake by getting nice and low, and by worming her little bod out. My job was to surrender to my body’s every urge and release her into the big wild world.
To achieve the birth I now envisioned (in the tub, natural pain relief), I sought out a course that looked to empower the mother-to-be and mould her partner into her powerful sidekick/co-birther. We were both about to be parents, shouldn’t we each feel integral to the journey? The childbirth preparation course She Birthsseemed to me a way to boost my chances of achieving just that.
The course was founded in Australia by Nadine Richardson. A five-year clinical trial of it was famously featured in the British Medical Journalin 2016. By educating the mother-to-be and her partner, the course resulted in shorter labours, a 65 per cent reduction in epidural rates, and a 44 per cent reduction in caesarean sections over a standard hospital-offered antenatal program. It claimed to blend hard science and Eastern techniques, which to my mind translates as “nerdy stuff with a sprinkle of New Age.”
And so we attended She Births over a weekend with Nadine, the course creator. As a doula, she’s witnessed countless births and knows what a woman needs to thrive and get down to the important work of birthing her child, both in the lead up to labour (with diet, visualisation and exercise) and for the duration of it (acupressure, massage, breathing prompts and faultless encouragement to ease the thrill of each contraction). Importantly for me, her program – a comprehensive crash course infused with actionable skills – led me to believe in myself and my body’s innate capabilities. She also reassured us that whatever way our birth story went, we could be proud of it.
Let’s be clear: during the first half of my pregnancy, my husband and I had worked up a low-level panic about what was to come. We didn’t know how we were going to pull this off, what it would require of us and our relationship, or even what the experience might reveal about me and my self-belief. Post She Births, anxiety lost out to some brand of glee. I started to think of birth as a rite of passage, a challenge that would force me to be the realest I’ve ever been. There is no room for ego in the labouring woman’s mind – or so I told myself, having never done this before FYI.
Finally, what I took away from the course is that so much of birth prep is simply avoiding negative talk. The way society frames birth is about as helpful as peeling a strawberry. The way it’s depicted in film is flat-out asinine and purely for the lols. What’s needed is an overhaul – and for us to recapture some of what was the norm less than century ago, when the mother-to-be laboured in the company of a whole tribe of supportive women and everyone trusted the body to do its work.
Dr Sarah Buckley, a GP and author, has said that a woman’s degree of birth satisfaction is directly related to her conscious involvement in decision making. “The higher her expectations – along with education and support – the greater her degree of birth satisfaction,” she says. I wanted the guts to reach for a birth that excited me, and upon hearing this sentiment over the course weekend, I suddenly felt I’d been granted permission to author my birth story.
My advice for those who are pregnant or trying or just curious – and which a big part of She Births championed – is to seek out positive birth stories. Ones where women felt empowered or played a key hand in the decision-making; where they surprised themselves. Follow Badassmotherbirtheron Instagram and watch women all over the world birth their babies in myriad ways – every single one impressive, regardless of the particulars. And finally, choose a birthing course that supports your outlook and ambition.
I don’t know what my birth story is going to be, but my expectations are up there. I also accept that I may wind up shattered should our plans turn or flounder. No matter, the joy I’ve gained from visualising my dream birth has served me well.
April Smallwood is a writer based in Sydney. She Births™ is available as a weekend course in Sydney, Byron Bay, Geelong, Newcastle and Orange, or an online program via the She Births app.