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EPISODE #28

The Missing Chapter to Ina May's Guide

This is Part 2 of a three-part series on Natural Birth. Click here for Part 1 and Part 3.

When I was pregnant, I was terrified of childbirth. I told that to my midwife, and she suggested that I read Ina May Gaskin’s manifestoes on natural birth: Spiritual Midwifery and Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth.

I loved Ina May’s story—a hippie living on a caravan of school buses, who learned to be a midwife by delivering other hippies’ babies on those school buses. I loved her message—that we do not have to be fearful of childbirth, and that laughter and kissing and politeness can help reduce pain. And I loved her statistics—there is an incredibly low rate of medical interventions for births at the Farm Midwifery Center, which Ina May founded on the Tennessee commune, where the aforementioned caravan of school buses landed. After a good dose of Ina May, I was confident that I could give birth naturally. It was going to be a challenge, but I was prepared.

Ina May led the midwives at the Farm

Ina May led the midwives at the Farm

Her husband, Stephen Gaskin, was the commune's spiritual leader

Her husband, Stephen Gaskin, was the commune’s spiritual leader

And then I actually gave birth. And it was nothing like what Ina May said it would be. I felt like I had failed. But I also felt mad at Ina May. And the whole natural birth industry, actually. For making me believe that natural birth was not only possible, but that it had the potential to be an ecstatic experience. And for not telling me what you were supposed to think if you didn’t get to have it.

Ina May with a fetuscope in the 70s

Ina May with a fetuscope in the 70s

Ina May with a fetuscope now

Ina May with a fetuscope now

In this episode, I tell Ina May how I felt betrayed by her. And her answer is truly stunning. I’ll let you listen to what she says, but once you’ve heard the episode, please come back to this page. If you wound up feeling like I did after having a baby, Ina May wants to hear from you. Tell your story in the comments below, or just let her know what you think is missing from her book. She will be watching!

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More on Ina May Gaskin

Here is Ina May’s TEDx Talk, which I excerpt in the story:

And this movie about Ina May’s life has great footage of the Farm, past and present, including a scene of a 10-pound baby being born to an unmedicated mother. I could see my own reflection in my computer screen as I watched this, and my jaw was literally dropped. The film also shows in action an example of the Gaskin Maneuver, an obstetrical procedure named after Ina May.

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All photos except blue/green portrait: David Frohman; Blue/green portrait: Sara Lamm

360 thoughts on “EPISODE #28: The Missing Chapter to Ina May’s Guide

  1. There’s a fine line between the message that natural birth is the ideal birth that we should strive for when feasible (which I do believe is true), and the message that you are a failure if you do not achieve a natural birth (which we all know is not true). It is hard to walk this line if you’re a birth coach or midwife who knows that interventions come with risks. They don’t want their patients to go for interventions when they’re not necessary. In delivering that message, they have to be very careful not to make women feel that when they do need interventions, or even when they want interventions, that this makes them a failure at childbirth.

    I had an almost natural birth, and it was pretty tough. I credit having practiced hypnobirthing and the help of my support team for not having drugs. I did get a little pitocin. My baby’s head was slightly tilted to the side, which made vaginal delivery not impossible, but more difficult and with a much longer labor than it would have been. Afterward, I somewhat guiltily told my hypnobirthing teacher / doula that if it had taken any longer to reach the pushing phase, I would have asked for drugs. She immediately said, “Oh I don’t blame you! Anyone would!” So although I didn’t end up with that experience of feeling guilty over what happened, I can empathize with those who did. Like some of the other commenters, I’m athletic and felt sure I would kick butt at childbirth. But some things are beyond our control in childbirth. We really need to figure out a way to help women have more control over the controllable parts, while accepting that we can’t control the entire process and not feeling guilty about that.

  2. I have been catching up on older episodes of the Longest Shortest Time and I had breezed past this one a few times. I guess I thought, eh, my daughter is almost four, I’ve had a long time to get past the experience of child birth, I don’t know how relevant this will be to me right now.

    I was surprised as I listened to it that it brought back a lot of the feelings that I had around my daughter’s birth in 2011. Like Hillary, I hoped for a child birth without interventions. Actually though, I was never adamant about not having any interventions except that I really wanted to avoid a c-section if at all possible. I was mentally prepared for the fact that I could not anticipate what child birth would be like and that I might need to make decisions on the spot. Still, I chose a local hospital with a nurse-midwife unit thinking that it would give me the best care and the best chance for the birth experience that I hoped to have. I felt lucky because they had a lot of the things to try to make labor a good experience–birthing tubs, balls, procedures for letting mamas walk around and labor in their preferred positions.

    At 38 weeks, 2 days, on a lovely early fall day, I was laying on my couch early in the afternoon and I noticed that I had some discharge. Actually, as I became aware of it, it crossed my mind that I might have noticed fluid earlier, but in pregnancy it felt like my body was always doing some weird new thing. And as a person who does not like unnecessary attention I was always trying not to rush to assumptions. So I had ignored it. Laying on that couch though, I remembered that some women experienced water breaking as a trickle. So I called the Nurse Midwife unit and after asking some questions they recommended that I go to get checked out in the hospital.

    I called my (then) partner (who was skeptical and a bit annoyed that I was calling him home from work) and he came back and drove me to the hospital. It turned out that my water had broken; and it was concerning to the medical staff that I could not say when it had happened. So they admitted me and gave me a timeline of about five hours to wait for labor to kick in before they said they would start pitocin (I really can’t remember if they offered me any options, though I do remember that they were calm with an edge of urgency).

    At 8:00pm they started pitocin. My dream of a water birth went out the window, but I was okay and my baby seemed to be doing okay, so I wasn’t heartbroken. Actually, for a few hours after they started pitocin I wondered what all the fuss was about. Sure, I was having contractions, but between them I was laughing and talking, and really just waiting.

    At about 11:00 I talked to my mom who was racing from Kansas to Minnesota to be by my side. And at 11:30 things still seemed to be progressing slowly so I laid down to try to rest. But by midnight, labor was in full force. Yes, it went that fast. By 12:30am I gave in and asked (pleaded) for an epidural. Although it is not clear to me how this happened for everyone else, in my mind, the nurse-midwife in my room spent as long as she could reading the list of risks to me before going to summon the anesthesiologist; and after a grueling wait the anesthesiologist came and read the risks in excruciating detail again. Which was ridiculous, because at that point it wasn’t like I could hear them anyway.

    By the time the anesthesiologist was set up I started to feel intense pressure and when I mentioned that, the nurse-midwife stopped the action in the room and said that it was too late for the epidural because it was time to push.

    The hour and a half that followed felt like one long contraction. Actually what it felt like was my body being torn in half from the inside. I literally thought (for as much as I could process thoughts) that I was right on the edge of death–how could anyone experience anything like that and survive? And after having been very clear about what I did and didn’t want people to do or say while I was in labor, I felt utterly inside of myself, completely unaware of anything that was happening around me. I’ve said since that there could have been a circus in the room and I would have had no ability to notice it.

    My labor was “short”, which the people around me seemed to equate with being easy.They told me how strong and awesome I was. But if anything, comments like that made me feel angry. I was in so much pain–my body hurt everywhere. I felt like I had been hit by a bus. And I kept wishing that rather than delay the epidural when I had pitocin, that someone (anyone!) had said, hey, this is going to be rough–you really should consider pain medication. Instead I felt like everyone was cheering me on to this victory that I didn’t want to be a victory. I didn’t feel strong, I felt duped.

    My daughter was born well, which was tremendous, but she was a bit early and quite small (6 lbs 6 oz). And because of that she (we) had some issues with breastfeeding, jaundice, weight gain, and intense sleepiness right out of the gate. Where I had been prepared for childbirth to be an adaptive challenge, I did not at all feel prepared for dealing with my own very real trauma from birth as well as a healthy but high-needs newborn.

    One thing that was in the back of my mind as I prepared and went into the birth experience was that I wanted to be tough. I wanted to be able to say that I had done it all myself. I wanted to experience the ecstasy that (apparently) kicks in after childbirth. And I wanted the glory of it–to feel like a badass, for other people to think that I was a badass.

    After it was over I really just wanted to forget all about the experience and the pain so that I could take care of my baby. I found myself angry that I had put so much pressure on myself to not have pain medications when they could have made the experience of childbirth so much less traumatic.

    Aside from my healthy, wonderful daughter, the one great thing that came from the experience is that I have deep empathy for mamas no matter what their child birth plan or experience. I have stopped judging any birth experience. When it comes to having our kids, I think we are all trying to make the best choices, and we never really know what they are until it’s over.

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