Life after birth

Mary-Ellen Krause - 14 Feb 16

Is there life after a traumatic birth?

In short. There is.

Sharing a cup of tea with a very dear friend on the eve of my second labour. She uttered some words that were invaluable. I was, understandably worried that this birth might be as troublesome as the first.

“You need to own the labour, claim it as yours, however your child is born. That labour is yours, make it special, own it”

It was like a lightbulb moment. What a refreshing way to look at birth. We have no guarantees do we? We have to make our labours valued. To own them as our own, even if they are far from perfect. We need not feel inferior if our birth falls short of wondrous.

In an age of intervention, our labours can be over medicalised and the age-old capabilities of our feminine bodies can be lost or mistrusted. This can create difficult and traumatic labours for many women. I wonder how the rising level of intervention impacts upon current rates of PND? A pause for thought perhaps.

Those women who sail through their first labours are so blessed. They can approach the complexities of motherhood from the calmest of beginnings. I really believe that this makes a difference. My second labour was a wonderful experience, a polar opposite to that of my first born. I cannot help but notice that following an easier birth, I felt physically well, calmer and more ready to grab hold of the fast moving baton of motherhood.

But what about the assisted deliveries, premature babies, inductions, time in theatre, foetal monitoring, haemorrhage, meconium swallowing, high blood pressure, et al. What about these women and their families?

We know that it is scientifically proven that a specific event during labour can significantly affect how we feel post partum. The well documented importance of keeping the baby close, with skin to skin and establishing breastfeeding from an hour after birth, these practices come highly recommended. But for some, this is not the case. It is simply not possible. It can leave these women debilitated and exhausted. Many mothers are left unable to physically lift their precious newborns, let alone experience the miracle of biological nurturing.  I wish that more could be done for these women. They certainly don’t need to be kept in hospital without their partners, to be railroaded into breastfeeding or to be left to negotiate new motherhood alone.

How are we supposed to be mentally prepared for the whirlwind of new motherhood if the labour is turbulent and traumatic?

One friend of mine recalls that it was three nights without sleep before her baby was finally born, another talks of crying in the hospital as she was unable to feed her daughter, another friend left with PTSD as her child had to be resuscitated in the labour room. These are only three women but they are not alone. Statistics suggest one in every five women.

Which should encourage us to think about how we might support our friends, mothers, wives or sisters who might find themselves in a cloud of difficulty following a less than perfect labour.

They need support and kindness. The old adage of the ‘village’, a group of people rallying around to support the new mother. In other cultures, women are cosseted in the bosum of their families for weeks post partum. The job of birth and motherhood needs to be more valued and celebrated. These mothers need nurture to help them recover. They need to sleep, to be cooked for, to be listened to. They will often want to talk over their experience or to make sense of it. Often the initial mother-baby bonds can be frayed or not immediately established. They need to be encouraged that this too will grow as the days pass. Not to feel ‘unnatural’ if the relationship takes a little longer to grow. I tried baby yoga and a gentle singing class. I felt that we both benefited from these classes. I for my sanity and him for the gentle bonding that took place. Making memories with my child enabled us to face the world together. A team, making sense of the unknown. These memories are golden.

I found that a gentle but regular social life following a traumatic birth was a great help. It enabled me to feel human, I felt that I was coping and it broke some of the monotony of the days at home. We had more of a purpose to our time. We were making memories and sharing experiences. The cushion of a group of like minded NCT friends helped enormously. Knowing that you are going through this new journey in a pack was a wonderful comfort.

After a while, there is hope, you stop being defined by ‘whence they came’ and the birth becomes a prominent back story. It gets relegated and rightly so.  The darkest moments start to blur and get clouded by time and the many joys that your growing child brings.

Yes, it happened but it cannot define or shape our precious future.

When our little ones are in the school play, playing in a team or getting a job- people won’t ask “how were they born?” They will comment on their character, their kindness, talents and their smile.

We cannot change the difficult way that they arrived into this world but we can change the little person who’s hand we guide each day. Our job now is to shape our children to be the best version of themselves.

That we do have control of.

Mary-Ellen Krause

A mother and Drama teacher. Best things in life- My children when they first wake, sitting on the beach at sunset, drinking prosecco with my mum, climbing a mountain, laughter, a vintage dress, a nostalgic piece of music, walking into my little town and seeing familiar faces, holding hands with Mr K.

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