Expectations vs. Reality – Are we doing new mums any favours?

It seems like there’s an unwritten law, a conspiracy, among women who have given birth. It states that, under no circumstances, should a woman who has given birth share any truthful, realistic or in any way confronting information about birth with any woman who is yet to experience that particular life event. “You wouldn’t want to scare them off!”, is the rationale – if they knew what it was really like, no-one would ever do it!” It’s a sentiment that comes from a noble place, having its genesis in the wish to protect future mothers from the anxiety that might result if they really knew what might happen in their birthing room. But are we really doing anyone any favours?

There were ten couples in my antenatal class. We were all booked in to have our babies in the birth centre – aiming for a natural birth, as drug free and intervention-free as we could manage. Some of us were determined to have a natural birth at almost any cost, while others were more of the “let’s try it and see what happens” mindset. Only one of us managed to actually deliver in the birth centre – the rest were transferred to the delivery suite at some point during labour, for epidurals, caesareans, or closer monitoring. Our expectations, over all, were very different from the reality we experienced – and some of us found that we had to mourn the loss of the birth that we expected.

My own experience reflected that. In that haze of pregnant expectation, I never once considered that when the time came to push my baby out into the world, that I would be so exhausted by four days of pre-labour (formerly known as ‘false’ labour – what a joke!) that I would not be able to cope with the pain. I regarded the anaesthetist who administered my epidural as some kind of benevolent god and would have kissed him if I could have moved my legs to catch him. I was not at all sorry to wave goodbye to my natural birth, however, my recovery was long and the first couple of weeks of my daughter’s life remain a blur.  I do remember, however, my primary reaction being one of shock –  I’d heard of pre-labour, but I’d had no idea that it could last for so long, be so painful, or result in such physical and emotional exhaustion.

There are serious implications for expectant mothers on this issue, especially given the current far-reaching cultural and psychological focus on optimism as a strength and protector against mental illness. Research has shown that women who have realistic expectations about birth and early motherhood, rather than overwhelmingly positive or negative expectations, adjust much better to the social and emotional upheaval that goes along with a new arrival. “Realistic” means giving equal time to thinking about the possibility of negative events and outcomes as you do about the positive. If you spend your entire pregnancy thinking about all the lovely baby things you will buy and all the “Huggies moments” you will have with your baby, you’re likely to have difficulty when faced with the reality. However, if you have balanced these thoughts with thoughts about the possibility of negative birth events, lack of sleep, the probability that your partner will not actually be able to take 50% of the childcare responsibilities, a baby that doesn’t know day from night, and the losses of your previous identities, your chances of coping well with early motherhood are much greater.

So what’s the answer? I am certainly not an advocate of us all starting to share the gruesome details of our birth experiences with anyone who will listen. But I do think that there is scope for us all to be a little more forthcoming about sharing our birth stories with expectant women in a gentle and supportive way.

What do you think? Should women be protected from the truth about birth or do you think the more information the better? Comment here or send me an email to heather@mindsightpsychology.com.au .

 If you are expecting and feeling anxious about the forthcoming birth, speak to your midwife or obstetrician in the first instance, and if you are in the eastern suburbs of Sydney, phone 02 9386 1225 for an appointment with me. 

To baby or not to baby? That’s not the question.

A couple of days ago, an article appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald entitled “Why having a baby isn’t the pinnacle of a woman’s life”. In it, Clem Bastow lamented that, having reached the end of her twenties with no sign of a childbearing desire, her immediate friends and family continually question her choices and she receives unsolicited warnings that she’s failing to fulfil her role as a woman and that she’ll be sorry in later years. At the time I am writing this, the article has generated 402 online comments and 41 tweets, many of them downright nasty. Why do we care so much about other people’s procreative choices? Is judging other’s choices necessary to make us feel better about our own? Or are we all the victims of a collective evolutionary urge to encourage the survival of the species?

When I was young, when I thought about it at all, I thought that one grew up, finished school, perhaps went to university, perhaps got a job in a bank, pretty soon got married, pretty soon (but not too soon!) after that, had children. Live more, or less, happily ever after. In the world where I grew up, that just seemed to be the natural order of things. But when I look around me now, that traditional path is represented by a minority of my immediate friends and family, and is certainly not represented in my own circumstances. I suspect that it wasn’t really representative back then, either. So why do we keep acting as though it is?

Feminism, technology, and economics have conspired to give us more choices than ever. We can have a baby the old-fashioned way. We can have a baby and a career. We can have a career, have a baby, then have another career. We can have one baby, then another, then another, then another. We can fall pregnant by accident and have a baby, or not. We can adopt, we can foster. We can do all of it with partners, or without. We can have no babies. All of these choices are valid. None of them deserve to be judged by people who’ve done differently.

We should recognise though, that every choice, by its nature, involves loss. It may simply be the loss of the choice, once you’ve made it, but when it comes to reproduction, it’s likely to involve more than that. For every woman who says that birth and motherhood is a profound and miraculous experience, there’s almost certainly one who found it confronting, painful, and confusing.  For every woman who reaches menopause having happily remained childless, there’ll be another living with an element of regret. In either case, given our propensity for criticism and judgement, the second person is not likely to speak up about it, and will be left to cope with their feelings in isolation. Perhaps we need to find a way to give each other a break.

 

Medicare rebates are available for women with concerns about a current or recent pregnancy. Counselling is non-directive and supportive. Phone Phoenix Holistic Centre on 02 9386 1225 for an appointment or please send me an email to heather@mindsightpsychology.com.au if you have any questions.