In the lead up to giving birth, I quickly discovered everyone wants to tell you about their birth stories, most of them with great emphasis on a) how painful it was or b) how long it was. I was told stories about third degree tears and marathon labours and emergency C-sections, but I can’t recall anyone ever telling me that they’d had a great labour. I was honestly left wondering how women did it and came back for more as it just seemed so, well, horrific.
Then I went through it myself. I was in labour with my first son for several hours, which started with playing board games with my husband to eventually just permanently having a vice-like grip on his hand to get through each contraction. When I finally arrived at the hospital I was told I was already fully dilated and ready to push. The moment I jumped into the tub in the birthing room for pain relief, I felt instantly at ease. I hadn’t planned on having a water birth, but afterwards, it seemed the most perfect way for us to bring our son into the world. It was peaceful and calm and at the same time such a powerful experience. It’s etched in my mind forever. My body, had done it. I had done it. I was utterly physically, emotionally and mentally spent of course, but I wouldn’t have changed a single thing about the entire experience.
I hadn’t planned on having a water birth, but afterwards, it seemed the most perfect way for us to bring our son into the world.
My birth experience could be categorised as a positive one - there were no complications and no stitches required, I was able to do it pretty much the way I’d envisaged, and I was up and walking a few minutes afterwards. And I’d managed to do it without using drugs. Which I hadn’t done to prove a point or be a hero, the idea of having an epidural honestly just terrified me and I had been crossing my fingers that I could avoid it if possible. And I’m so incredibly thankful it all transpired as it did. What I didn’t expect was the judgement around it.
Perhaps I naively thought that shared experience of birth would be something that allowed there to be an open forum with other mums. It’s not to say I didn’t have people who were genuinely happy for me when they heard my story, but I’ve had people joke that I didn’t really work that hard because “I just sneezed and the baby popped out”; or ask if was I trying to prove something by not asking for an epidural; or insinuated that I didn’t really have the “proper” birth experience because I’d emerged relatively unscathed.
Having been asked about the story enough times, and on the receiving end of reactions that suggested the way I’d experienced giving birth wasn’t to everyone’s satisfaction, I would find myself gradually telling it in a sheepish, almost apologetic way. Because I was starting to feel that being positive about giving birth just wasn’t the done thing. So I would temper the story, and try and downplay it. I’d emphasise how I got lucky, or say that he’d probably be a problem child elsewhere or offer myriad other excuses as to why I’d had the kind of birth I’d had.
It seemed like it was a competition at times when all I really wanted was to feel that sense of camaraderie with others who knew exactly how gruelling and difficult it was.
It seemed like it was a competition at times when all I really wanted was to feel that sense of camaraderie with others who knew exactly how gruelling and difficult it was. Telling my story wasn’t about boasting or one upmanship, or that I was somehow better because of the way I had experienced it, it was simply the way it had happened.
The thing is, having given birth twice now, both with similarly positive experiences, I’ve grown to realise that I should be able to tell my stories in a more honest way. Regardless of how I did it, or how long for, ultimately, I managed to do something that brought my two sons safely into the world. It’s something that I’m incredibly proud of, and something that still leaves me in awe of how I managed to summon up the courage and strength to get through it at the time. I’m in awe of all women who do it.
If I’m asked, I’m going to tell it with the same fondness I have in recalling it.
So, I’m gradually trying to own my stories more. If I’m asked, I’m going to tell it with the same fondness I have in recalling it. Because there’s a great sadness in not being able to share honestly, or being apologetic about, two of the most life changing moments of my life. If ever there was a #nofilter moment, for me, giving birth should be it.
All birth experiences are different. Sometimes they go according to plan, and sometimes they may end up somewhere completely different and unexpected, and sometimes you may just find yourself loving the whole process. But regardless, a woman should be able to share her experience without feeling like she’s somehow in competition or that she’s facing a barrage of judgement calls when she does. Ultimately there’s no “right” way to give birth, it’s miraculous no matter how it happens.
