A few days ago, a friend of mine who’s expecting her first baby emailed me, wondering if she should plan for a “natural” birth or give in to the “temptation” of an epidural. I don’t know what she’ll decide (and honestly, both are reasonable choices, in my view), but I pointed out that she was using the language of moralistic judgment. She’s a very smart and reflective person, and yet the words she used already condemned one choice as illicit. It’s telling, I think, that these words are the available ones, particularly for educated women concerned about doing everything right.
Hard on the heels of our conversation comes this British professor of midwifery, Denis Walsh, who’s been getting lots of attention for claiming that experiencing labor pain makes you a better mother. Here’s how the Guardian laid out his position:
More women should endure the agony of labour because pain-relieving drugs, including epidural injections, carry serious medical risks, diminish childbirth as a rite of passage and undermine the mother’s bond with her child.
These claims from Dr Denis Walsh, one of the country’s most influential midwives, have prompted a furious reaction, with other experts saying he has exaggerated the risks of having an epidural. Official figures show that the number of mothers-to-be who receive an epidural, general or spinal anaesthetic has soared in recent years to 36.5%. [Note that these are British statistics; U.S. figures are likely higher.]
Walsh, a senior midwife and associate professor in midwifery at Nottingham University, argues that many women avoid experiencing the discomfort of childbirth because hospital maternity staff are too quick to offer an epidural or agree to a woman in labour’s request for a pain-killing injection in her back to ease her suffering.
“A large number of women want to avoid pain. Some just don’t fancy the pain [of childbirth]. More women should be prepared to withstand pain,” he told the Observer. “Pain in labour is a purposeful, useful thing, which has quite a number of benefits, such as preparing a mother for the responsibility of nurturing a newborn baby.” …
“Over recent decades there has been a loss of ‘rites of passage’ meaning to childbirth, so that pain and stress are viewed negatively,” said Walsh. Patients should be told that labour pain is a timeless component of the “rites of passage” transition to motherhood, he added.
While Walsh has found some support among feminist bloggers for challenging the medicalization of birth, he’s also been roundly criticized: Anna N. at Jezebel says he’s setting new mothers up for a lifetime of being judged. The bloggers at Broadsheet, to a woman, chose epidurals and have no regrets; the reject the idea that those who don’t suffer birth pangs (like, say, fathers!) will be better parents, and Amy Benfer suggests that Walsh’s position “smacks of sadism.” Figleaf points out that the curse of Genesis applied to Adam, too, yet men aren’t considered morally superior if they avoid “painful toil.” Dr. Amy Tuteur at The Skeptical OB notes that “the claim about endorphins and bonding is entirely fabricated; it was made up by Michel Odent.”
Yep. That’s all true. Tuteur’s reference to Odent is particularly telling, because he’s one of the fathers of “natural” childbirth, along with Grantly Dick-Read and Fernand Lamaze. While female midwives picked up the idea of natural childbirth and ran with it, and many mothers enthusiastically embraced it, it was originally the brainchild of male physicians.
But the original promise of natural childbirth was not to create better mothers through suffering. Quite the contrary; it was to greatly reduce or eliminate pain. Dick-Read believed that labor pain was largely due to fear and tension. His theory relied heavily on what we’d now see as racist distinctions between “primitive”African women, who allegedly gave birth painlessly because of their closeness to nature, and “civilized” European women. The original Lamaze technique used Pavlovian conditioning to train women to relax and ideally eliminate pain. Ina Mae Gaskin, who’s probably America’s most famous midwife, redefined contractions as rushes and contended that women could learn to transmute the pain into productive effort. (I don’t know if she still makes the claim that women can achieve a pain-free birth through the power of their minds, but that’s what she originally contended in her book, Spiritual Midwifery.)
So Walsh’s position is actually much closer to Odent’s and quite far from Dick-Read and Lamaze. What changed between the early 1960s, when natural childbirth was first popularized, and today? Well, women no longer need to choose between consciousness and pain relief. Epidurals offer both, unlike Twilight Sleep or other opiate-based techniques. Culturally, motherhood has optional. We’ve mostly left Freudian mother-blaming behind us, but in its place has arisen a standard of intensive mothering that no woman can ever perfectly meet.
It’s ironic that the attempt to sell natural childbirth by equating pain with better mothering is occurring in Anglo-American discourse. Originally, it was American women who most vocally demanded better obstetric pain relief in the early 1900s, following the invention of Twilight Sleep. They were far more organized and vociferous than their counterparts in Germany, where the technique originated. Although strong religious objections against relieving labor pain persisted into the late 1800s in the United States, ether and chloroform had been commonly used since early in the post-Civil War era. British, women, too, embraced pain relief fairly zealously after Queen Victoria quelled the controversy over chloroform by choosing for her eight delivery in 1853, though working-class women remained more skeptical into the twentieth century.
The historical adoption of pain relief in labor both reflected and helped to constitute new ideals of motherhood as less about suffering and more about love. Motherhood became less identified with complete self-sacrifice and more compatible with legal and social personhood. Where backlash against this trend occurred – such as in Germany – it was often tangled up with militarism and bellicose nationalism. One German obstetrician who opposed pain relief in labor wrote in 1932 that “humanity must become tougher and more manly again. Learn to suffer without complaining.” He was one of many physicians who worried that women were becoming soft, sentimental, and degenerate, with dire consequences for national health and military fitness. The apparent contradiction of calling for laboring women to become “more manly” is a little less nonsensical in light of the demand for a virile military, which required virile mothers.
I’m not suggesting that women who reject pain relief are complicit with militarism. Not at all. But arguments equating suffering with good motherhood have a very regressive history. Those who would shame women for relieving their pain are part of that tradition.
Which brings me back to my friend, who’s expecting at the end of the summer. I don’t know what choices she’ll finally make. It would be equally bad if she felt pressured to choose an epidural; that happens, too, thanks to medicalization and our idolization of technology. I just hope that whatever she does, she’ll feel free of judgment.
(This post ought to have about 20 footnotes. Anyone who’s really curious can email me: sungold85 [at] gmail [dot] com, or start with Judith Walzer Leavitt’s groundbreaking study, Brought to Bed: Childbearing in America, 1750-1950. On Grantly Dick-Read and the genesis of natural childbirth, see Tess Cosslett, Women Writing Childbirth: Modern Discourses of Motherhood
.)
Patron cat of Kittywampus (1985-2001)
[...] 19, 2009 by Sungold Following up on yesterday’s post on the romanticization of labor pain: The other evening, my sons were watching clips on YouTube, and suddenly I heard the sort of moans [...]
Thank you for the history. I cringe every time I see the rhetoric surrounding “natural” birth (so, so many things to deconstruct: are you really “natural” with your folic supplements and music therapy? what is the arbitrary divide that makes something natural vs artificial? is “natural” something we should always aspire to in every situation?) and the way it is constructed as a matter of superiority. This is a weapon to beat over the heads of noncompliant women. This is a way to shame women who cannot fit this unattainable ideal of “natural” perfection, with the flip side being that they must not really care about their children then!
And being a person with a chronic pain position and disability politics, I cannot help but have red flags pop up EVERYWHERE in the assumptions that are made when people discuss this.
I have never seen one of these people say: “Well, it is going to hurt. But I am going to withstand it, and I will be OK. And I am going to love my child!” Instead, there is always an attached message of superiority (however unintended): “I am doing this because it is better.”
And oh, so much to criticize in the medicalization of pregnancy, birth, motherhood, womanhood — but I feel like I can never even get to those criticisms because I feel so rampantly excluded from the start, I cannot join in good faith without pointing out just how wrong the popular criticisms have become.
Amandaw, I really appreciated your post on the FDA’s foolish idea of banning Vicodin and Percocet – so I think we’re coming from a similar position of being suspicious of any pressure on women (or men!) to just suck it up and suffer.
I definitely have known people who gave birth without drugs and felt strongly that it was better for them, yet not necessarily every woman’s cup of tea.
I put “natural” in scare quotes once or twice, with the hope that the reader would understand that I question the naturalness of it. I’m glad you caught that. Birth is always part of culture, and nowhere in the world has it been “left to nature.” Beliefs to the contrary tend to be highly racist (cf. Grantly Dick-Read). So the question isn’t whether humans will intervene in birth; the question is how, and why. The question is what values our interventions embody and what outcomes they achieve for mother and child. I personally think that there’s a broad range of reasonable ways to approach birth. The key thing for me is the welfare of both mother and baby – which very centrally includes women’s ability to make informed choices on the basis of their personal values.
Thanks so much for your thoughts, Amandaw. I’m missing you at Feministe already, so I guess I need to start following your blog.
As the mother of a three-week-old, my first response to Mr. Walsh is to tell him where to stick it. (Especially since I was in labor for two and a half days before I wound up having a c-section.) There is no way for me to explain how much pain I was in before they did the epidural. Labor wasn’t a rite of passage, it didn’t enable me to bond better with my daughter, it just hurt like hell. I am incredulous that someone who’s never been through labor (and never will) has the unmitigated gall to tell me what’s a “rite of passage” and what isn’t.
When I was talking with my midwives about my birth plan, they asked me specifically about pain relief. This being my first pregnancy, I told them I didn’t know what I wanted to do in terms of medication because I’d never been through it before. They actually warned me that if I thought I might want an epidural, I needed to say so upfront because some of the anesthesiologists would refuse to do an epidural if I consented while in the level of pain associated with labor. (Because apparently being in pain means you can’t make a competent decision about pain relief?)
Evil_fizz, I’m sorry you had such a rough labor. There’s a body of literature examining PTSD after difficult childbirth experiences. Not saying that you personally have PTSD, only that stories like yours are typical for those who suffer from it. Obviously bonding with a baby is harder for women who are deeply traumatized by extreme pain, long labors, unwanted c-sections, etc.
I think birth is a rite of passage – and not just for the mother, but also the father, the grandparents, and older siblings. But it’s not just about the delivery, and it’s certainly not all about the pain. I understand “rite of passage” to mean a transformative experience, not necessarily a trial by fire.
Interesting point about being considered non compos mentis once you’re in labor! Some birth activists have complained about the pressure women sometimes get to accept an epidural, so it’s important to hear if women’s rights are being compromised in the other direction, too. Every expectant mother ought to be informed about the possible risks and benefits of epidurals before she goes into labor – and then the decision should be left squarely up to her unless there’s an absolutely compelling medical reason not to.
I hope you’ll have lots of joy with your baby. Be as easy on yourself as you can be, ask for help, and hope for some sleep! And congratulations on your little wonder.
I appreciate the good wishes, Sungold. =) Fortunately, everything is now fine, but it was a long, hard slog (and exacerbated by having serious surgical complications from the c-section and major blood loss). I think part of the reason that my mental health is still in such good shape is because I had incredible family support while going through it all. My husband was able to stay with me for the duration of labor and the c-section, and my mother and sister arrived immediately after the little one was born. I think it would have been very, very different if I hadn’t had the family support. (My mother, who is a former La Leche League leader, is the reason I’m still able to breastfeed my daughter.)
In that sense, I suppose it was a rite of passage for me and my family, but it was incredibly painful and traumatic (the post c-section complications, not the labor itself). Regular labor, delivery, and recovery would have been just fine, thank you very much. And I think that’s another thing that’s been bugging me about Walsh’s comments: the mere experience of taking care of a newborn, of being responsible for someone so vulnerable is a transformative experience in of itself. It doesn’t need to happen a certain way, especially not the certain way Walsh has in mind. The pain is not the relevant part: the experience is.
Sorry not to reply sooner; I was in transit and lost track. Anyway, I’m so glad you’re thriving. Your mother sounds like every new mother’s dream!
You’re absolutely right about support being the key. Way back in the 1970s, Ann Oakley conducted some sociological studies that suggested postpartum depression was partly a function of support (or the lack of it). I had some support with both of my babies, but I needed far more after the first birth than I actually got – and I probably was diagnosable with depression by the time my son was three months old. I never did anything about it except cry at odd times and appear slightly looney to my partner. He was commuting to another city for work, gone three nights a week, and I would never have a baby under those circumstances again.
Walsh makes a funny conflation of “pain” with “rite of passage.” They are not the same thing, as you point out. If you look at rites of passage cross-culturally, it’s evident that some involve pain, but not all do.
I’d love to see a lot less anxiety about what choices women make for their labor and delivery, and a lot more discussion about what happens to them once the baby arrives.
You hit all the key reasons why the male midwife’s suggestion was misogynist.
As someone who got an epidural late in the game, and went from bursting my husband’s eardrums to sleeping peacefully until it was time to deliver, I have a personal bias.
Also, clearly the guy’s never taken care of an infant. Even if it were true that pain and misery were necessary for bonding, what with only a few hours of sleep a night, having ones nipples bitten painfully, being covered with unpleasant substances on a regular basis, not to mention the 8-9 months before that, can he really imagine that those of us who got epidurals were otherwise struggle-free?
I totally share your “bias,” Octogalore. Most of us don’t get an epidural until we’ve gone through many hours of labor because nearly all doctors require you to be dilated to a certain point. Getting to that point can be pretty rough. I got my epidural relatively quickly with both kids, but only because my body apparently doesn’t know how to start off slow – I went straight into frequent, painful contractions. I also still had enough pain with the epidural that I had to breathe through contractions. So the idea that epidurals promise a “pain-free” birth is just nonsense.
Possibly Dr. Walsh needs to personally experience a case of mastitis if he thinks we’re not suffering enough … or just garden variety engorgement.