Showing posts with label birth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birth. Show all posts

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Birth Rape or a Negative Birth Experience?

I've been planning blog posts all week but I've been so busy living life I haven't had the time to write about it. Too bad too because there is some great stuff too. We've been baking, schooling, playing, crafting, sewing, knitting, cooking, dancing, meeting and of course, drinking coffee. I have even made bread. There will be a post about that, there HAS to be a post about that.

But instead of a post on golden crust and French style homemade bread I find myself with much heavier topics on my mind.


I haven't written about birth much and haven't actually attended one since last December and I was the birthing woman. This feels strange but also right at this time. Still a birth junkie though, I've been reading as usual and today I read this article on the Parenting blog. Melanie, the author, addresses the use of the fairly new term "birth rape" when discussing bad birth experiences. She shares with her readers some of the details of her first birth, a negative experience in a hospital and then why she feels that, though it was a negative experience that led to her choosing a home birth the next go-round, the term "birth rape" is not an appropriate label. The crux of her argument is that the doctor and hospital staff at her birth were not set out to intentionally harm her.

I want to agree with her, really I do. Maybe it is true most of the time that a bad birth experience is just that, a bad birth experience. But there are times when I feel "rape" is an appropriate term. And I say that as a rape survivor.

Merriam-Webster defines rape as:
1 a (archaic): to seize and take away by force b : despoil

2: to commit rape on

1: an act or instance of robbing or despoiling or carrying away a person by force

2: unlawful sexual activity and usually sexual intercourse carried out forcibly or under threat of injury against the will usually of a female or with a person who is beneath a certain age or incapable of valid consent — compare sexual assault, statutory rape

3: an outrageous violation


To seize and take away by force
I feel I experienced birth rape once and have witnessed it twice. I was told "if you had just gotten the epidural and delivered your placenta better then I wouldn't have to do this to you" when my OB was manually performing a DNC without any pain relief to remove the retained placenta fragments after she pulled on the cord because (and these were her words) "she was so tired and ready to be done with this already." I had been told more than once that it was the end of her shift. She entered my body 3 times that I remember, telling me to be still and I would thank her later. The way she spoke to me as she forced her arm up to her elbow inside me through my freshly torn vagina and bruised cervix while she scraped the inside of my uterus and searched for the fragments and how she had my legs restrained by nurses triggered flashbacks of my rape that haunted me for 2 years. I passed out from the pain and when I came to later I was told it was my fault, that I wanted a natural birth and "well, was it worth it?" When I became more educated years later and read through my own chart I understood what happened and I know the risk of a retained placenta and immediate postparum hemorrhage but I also know that the attitude with which it was done and the blame being placed on me was all too similar to what my sexual abuser did as well. Perhaps her intent wasn't to harm me but, like a sexual predator, her actions demonstrated that she was primarily thinking about getting what she wanted.


Despoiling, to commit rape on
The 2 times I saw what I feel was birth rape included a home birth transfer and I heard the on-call doctor tell the mother "everyone would be so much nicer if you had come here in the first place. This is what you get for being stupid enough to try a home birth" and then he cut her a 4th degree episiotomy that was completely unnecessary for the 3rd time mom birthing a 6 pounder.


Unlawful sexual activity... carried out forcibly or under threat of injury against the will usually of a female
I have several Labor and Delivery nurse friends that tell stories. There is a OB in town that has a horrible reputation among the nurses at the hospital where he does deliveries because of his poor treatment of patients. Poor doesn't even begin to describe it. One story my friend tells is of a young woman, a teen mom having her first baby. She was afraid and refused a second vaginal exam (smart girl, in my book) because of the pain from the first one. This doctor sat there between her legs and bellowed at her that he was in charge and she was just a little slut that needed to open her legs and let him do what he needed to do. She whimpered and obeyed. He hurt her again in that exam and told her she was no good at birth and he'd probably have to cut her open to get her baby out. Yes, those are the words my friend says he used. The nurses finally stood up to him and threatened to report him if he didn't change his treatment of this patient.


An outrageous violation
The other birth rape experience I witnessed was by a midwife in a birth center and was even more traumatic than the first with the midwife saying "you really want me to do this, you'll be thanking me later so stop being such a whimp" as she repeatedly tried to manually dilate a posterior, slow progressing, hard cervix despite the laboring woman begging her to stop and to get out of her. All my interventions to protect my client were ignored and her actions didn't stop until the 3rd time when I told the husband that he needed to tell the midwife to remove her hands from his wife and explain what she was doing. When she did I physically put myself between my client and the midwife until we had her word that she would not do another cervical exam without the express and clear permission from the mother. That birth was one of the most horrible I have ever seen and even included a light smack on the rear of the birthing mother on hands and knees when she tried to move away from the pain the midwife was causing her. In any other situation there would be no question that language of assault would be appropriate in describing the events that took place, just because it is birth and these people are supposed to be helping does not give them license to exert dominating control over a woman's body against her will. When I left the home of that couple after getting them settled back home several hours later I sat in my car and bawled. What I had witnessed wasn't just a series of unfortunate events or even unnecessary interventions but a vile form of abuse under the guise of assisting someone in the midst of an extremely and intensely vulnerable time. I won't even go into the desperate feelings of guilt and failure as a doula that hounded me in seeing my client abused and me feeling powerless to stop it.


I understand the writers point. Not every case of an undesired intervention equal birth rape. However, there are some where the attitude is clearly not just "this is what we do to get a healthy baby" but rather one of punitive power masquerading as care. Birth rape is a strong and unsettling term and rightly it should be. It should not be used lightly but it should not be ignored. If we tell women that they cannot describe their experience with language that points to assault we put more barriers in the way of their healing and for those suffering from PTSD as a result of their birth experiences we make it even more challenging for them to find the help they need. We need to be careful that we do not dismiss these traumatic experiences and that we encourage women to use the terminology they need to accurately express what happened to them. I don't want an us vs. them attitude between doctors and women or doctors and the natural birth community but not all health care birth professionals are as benevolent as we would like to believe. There are many wonderful and talented doctors, nurses and midwives I have been privileged to work with and know. Far more truly caring ones than not and most of them love what they do and recognize the honor they have in attending birthing women. I am grateful for this. The small handful that have made me sit in my car and sob are greatly outnumbered. But they are there and they are hurting women and families, traumatizing them by looking out for themselves, their needs and wants over those of the very people they are serving. That is how rape happens, when a position of power is abused to control someone to proceed in an action by violating their body through force against their will.


Melanie may not feel that her personal negative birth experience wasn't birth rape and it sounds as though she has found healing through her second birth and that's wonderful. For me and some other women "negative birth experience" just isn't the right terminology for what we went through. Birth rape feels closer. It may make us uncomfortable but that's exactly what it should do.

What do you think? Is Birth Rape too strong of language for birth related abuse? What would be some other terms we could use instead? Do you feel it is fitting?

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Oui, Oui, Da, Da

Tomorrow is a special day, my second daughter celebrates her 9th birthday. Her beginning was rough not because of too many physical complications but rather some emotional challenges my family suffered through. The day L was born my family lost one of the most wonderful people this world has ever known, my maternal grandmother. Ouida Bailey was not exactly a saint but pretty close. The daughter of an evangelist she traveled around with her twin and younger sister as a trio called the Blue Bonnet Sisters. Her middle name was Kentucky, her twin bearing Texas as her second name. Quiet and unassuming, Ouida was not usually the one to garner a lot of attention. Grandma studied piano and German in college and went on to marry a young man in the military. Living up to her name (yes in French and Russian), my grandmother almost never said no to anyone. Sweet, kind, gentle and giving, Grandma taught piano for years, not having children until later in life when first my uncle and then my mom were born several years apart. Grandma was very involved in my childhood, often babysitting and spending time with us, sharing music and ice cream. Somewhat of a nervous person she worried about all of us, reminding us over and over again of safety practices and wanted to be sure we were cautious. A victim of domestic violence my grandmother struggled with fear, a struggle that was only amplified with the onset of dementia. Late in my pregnancy with L, fearing I wouldn't get to see her again, I flew from Illinois to Florida to see her. The disease had destroyed much of her mind and she only had a few lucid moments of remembering who I was and during one of brief instances, with her hand on my baby bump, she spoke blessings over me and my family. Those blessings have stayed with me ever since. The morning of March 25, 2001 my grandmother breathed her last and died at 10.10 EST. Preparing to lead worship at my church, I was off to the side praying when I felt a strong contraction that set itself apart from all the others I had experienced off and on in the previous few weeks. Noting the time I knew that I would be having a baby that day. My watch read 9.10 CST. A few hours later I got the message that grandma had past and after a phone call with my mom, I took a nap. It was a strong contraction that woke me and I knew I was in active labor, something that I had wanted desperately just the day before when it was happening I wished would stopped and wait another week. L was born at 7 that evening, my first home birth. As I held my beautiful new baby, who's name meant pure beauty, I wondered if she would be like my grandmother in any way. As I grieved my grandmother's passing I also rejoiced, my family was richly blessed. Though born in Illinois, Lavinia was born during Texas Blue Bonnet Season and having lived here since she was not yet two, I have celebrated my daughter and my grandmother every year with the Texas Blue Bonnets. Tomorrow we will have cake and presents, sing songs, play, eat L's favorite food, talk with my parents and my mom and I will acknowledge at some point the other special woman we honor on March 25th. L knows that her birthday also marks the day Grandma Bailey moved on and though her personality is very different from her great-grandma's, they share a unique bond. Those of us that have been privileged to know either of them and especially those that have been so favored as to know them both are blessed people indeed.

Below is a song I wrote dedicated to these two special people.

Oui, Oui, Da, Da

By Jessica Martin-Weber for Ouida and Lavinia


One of two she always had an and
All along the way she’d quietly stand
Low tones warm and soft
Never held herself aloft
Heavy eyelids with lashes low
She was one to take it slow
Blue bonnet fields bobbing, bobbing, bobbing
Smiles and laughter sobbing, sobbing

Almost invisible

Yes, yes almost invisible
Oui, oui Presque invisible
Да, Да, Почти невидимый
She could never say no.

Affection from another of desire
Breathes into being a gentle fire
Promises made and hopes begin to bloom
Then delicate flower crushed too soon
Purple eyelids heavy and low
He wasn’t one to take it slow
Blue bonnet fields bobbing, bobbing, bobbing
Smiles and laughter sobbing, sobbing

Almost invisible

Yes, yes almost invisible
Oui, oui Presque invisible
Да, Да, Почти невидимый
She could never say no.

From her carved flesh and womb
She had another to groom
Time sang it’s sweet sad song
Two more mother’s come along
Now her eyelids heavy and low
She was one to take it slow
Blue bonnet fields bobbing, bobbing, bobbing
Smiles and laughter sobbing, sobbing

Like a woman pushed and torn
One dies and one is born
In the agony and bliss
It all comes down to this
Our stories intertwine
What is yours and what is mine
The songs of love and loss
We bear each other’s cross
To share a legacy of love

When she went on her way
I held pure beauty that day
Victory wept for yes
We knew our souls were blessed
Our eyelids heavy and low
Neither one the other would know
Blue bonnet fields bobbing, bobbing, bobbing
Smiles and laughter sobbing, sobbing

Yes, yes almost invisible
Oui, oui Presque invisible
Да, Да, Почти невидимый
Yes, yes, no longer invisible
Oui, oui, jamais plus invisible
Да, Да, больше невидимый

I love you Grandma.

Vote for my post on Mom Blog Network

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Stages of a Station, the Art of Art part 2

The second part of the piece was the actual photographs. This Stations of the Cross exhibit is also a part of Fotofest, an art event that takes place every other year. Not having a camera of the caliber I'd like for something like this, I borrowed my friend Jack's camera and set about a-clicking. I could explain the concept behind these images but I'm not going to do that just yet. Your comments on these would be greatly appreciated. Please note that I know I am not a photographer, in fact, I'm not sure I'm an artist but I do kind of have an artistic eye. I had a great time taking these images and they all feature Cosette at almost 5 weeks old.





The following three images are used in the piece and were taken by Linda Dybala at Cosette's birth.


I intend to share more images from these sessions but these are the ones that are a part of the piece.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Stages of a Station, the Art of Art part 1b


I started sharing the process of creating the piece I was asked to contribute to Xnihillo Gallery's Station of the Cross exhibit here. My brilliant and talented friend, Jack took some photos of my belly cast for me. I'm not sure what I'm doing with the cast when the show is done but I'm thinking one of these images will be framed and hanging on my wall for "cool" factor alone.

When the cast had hardened enough to remove it from the frame (my body) we placed it belly side down to finish curing. Now, if you decide to make a plaster cast of your shape I have a bit of advice to give you: load on the petroleum jelly. When you think you have enough, add more. If you think you've covered enough of the area, add another inch. I think I did pretty well, actually but there were a few spots where I could have used more Vaseline and OH. MY. FREAKIN. CRAP. My eyes sting just thinking about it and so do other parts of my body. Trust me. Lots and lots and lots of petroleum jelly, you won't regret using too much, you will regret not using enough.


The plan was for it to rest for 3 days and then I'd start working on preparing it for what was to come. But then I had a baby in three days and, well, it sat for 3 weeks before I did anything with it. Another talented and brilliant friend, Linda, came and did our labor and birth photography.


(Those are my hands. Sweet, right?!)

Before the cast could be really used for the piece, I had to reinforce it with a few more layers of the plaster cloth so the girls and I pulled out the supplies and set to work. Everyone got in on the action. You can't tell from these phone pics (Thanks O and L for taking them for me!) but tiny, newborn C is off to the side in her bouncy seat being bounced with my foot when these shots were taken.



We did the additional layers in three stages. The next part of the plan was to sand the cast smooth, get the photo images we needed, have them printed on canvas and then wrap the form in strips of cloth and the photos. It completely changed though and the cast remains pretty much the same in the finished piece thanks to my friend Jack convincing me that the cast was beautiful without doing anything to it. I cleaned up a few spots with sandpaper but left it as is.

More on the process later.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Stages of a station, the Art of Art part 1


Several months ago I was asked to participate in an art exhibit of the Stations of the Cross/Fotofest for Xnihilo Gallery. The station I was given to create a piece of art depicting or interpreting was Station 4, Jesus Meets His Mother. In a moment that can only be explained as a complete departure from reality as I'm not an artist and certainly not a photographer, I said yes. What in the world was I thinking? It must have been the pregnancy, certainly in my non-gestational state of mind I would never have said yes.

I spent a good amount of time dreaming up my piece before reality caught up with me and by the time I realized that this wasn't such a good idea it was too late for me to back out. So with a concept in mind Jeremy and I worked out how the piece could work. Though photography was required for the show it didn't have to be the only medium.


My pregnancy carried quite the influence on me as I thought the piece and eventually became the canvas we would use to build the rest of the work on. On Christmas Eve, 3 days before I went into labor at almost 37 weeks, Jeremy and I made a cast of my torso. We had hoped to make 2 or 3 of these but it turns out we did well to get the one.


The process was simple, Vaseline all over the area we would be making a cast of, a large roll of plaster cloth, a container of warm water, a vinyl table cloth for the floor and towels. It didn't take as long as we expected and, true to the directions on the plaster cloth, it dried very fast. Watching the original Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, we got to work. Me sitting naked in the living room while Jeremy smoothed slimy, wet pieces of the plaster cloth on my torso might sound exciting but it really wasn't as sexy as one might think.


The strips were drying so quickly, Jeremy had to work fast. I snapped as many pictures as I could while trying to remain still. As you can see the pics didn't turn out so well!



In order to make my belly look a little bigger and to be sure the plaster didn't end up all over my dinning room chair, I leaned back in the chair with just my rear and the top of my back touching the chair making for an uncomfortable and long 30 minutes while we waited for the plaster to set so it wouldn't crush when we removed the cast.


I'll be posting more photos of the progress of the piece over this next week. The belly cast was a great experience and I love it, very glad we made one, it turned out beautifully.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Another perspective


This isn't exactly about my birth story with Cosette but it does include some of our birth story. My good friend Linda attended the birth last week as support and birth photographer. I haven't seen the images yet (she took a lot, I'm sure she's wondering what she was thinking now) but I've seen other samples of her work and I'm sure they are beautiful. What I appreciate about this post though is another perspective entirely and not from camera. I am well aware now as as someone who attends women in birth that there are always several stories happening, not just the birth story from the perspective of the mother. Everyone there, while sharing in the same developing experience, is experiencing their own version of the story coming from their own already in progress narrative. These tales are beautiful to me and getting to hear them, even in small snippets is a gift that those who attended Jeremy and I in our births bless me with when they share. I warn you, this post may make you cry. It took me a few days to find the courage to read it but it was worth it. I hope you are touched by what she shares there and if you can, take a minute to leave her a comment to thank her for sharing such depth of her soul. I'd also love to hear what you think in the comment section as well.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

A week ago today- SROM or the begining of a birth tale.

There are moments that we mark in red on the calendar of our hearts and minds and quietly observe them on our own when those events are revisited. Some of them are annual, some or monthly, some are weekly, some are precious and beautiful, some are painful and sad, some are a combination. All are important in an intensely personal way.

This was me a week ago today.


A week ago tonight at about 9.30 my bag of waters broke spontaneously as I was crossing the street with Jeremy and Evangeline following dinner with our neighbors, F and J. F had given me a hard time about not having my water break while we were there and I started having contractions with a little bit of regularity when dinner was over. Having had them off and on all day and the two weeks before, I didn't want to give them more than a passing nod of acknowledgment. I've been down this road before, you see, this could go on for weeks and weeks. We joked and I assured F that my water had never broken before either early in labor or as the first sign of labor. He promised me there's always a first time for everything! And indeed, he was right! Forty-five minutes later we were crossing the street when I felt a small gush of fluid. I wasn't sure right away that SROM had just happened but after a few more steps I told Jeremy my suspicions and by the time we got to the house I was pretty certain that I would get into the bathroom and know for sure. It didn't take long for there to be clear fluid running down my legs requiring a change of clothes. I was definitely ruptured. Contractions sputtered to a stop as I called the midwife to give her the report, I had checked myself (again) that morning (because I could- the danger of knowing just a little too much) and knew I was 75% effaced and 2cm but I hadn't felt the baby move since I ruptured. Because we had a scare not even a week before with low heart tones and I didn't have a doppler at home we made a plan to have a nurse friend come and bring a doppler so we could get heart tones. This was just for peace of mind, for my peace of mind. I felt like she was ok but I wanted to know she was ok. Sue came, bringing a doppler and set to work cleaning my kitchen after we listened to that beautiful swooshing train sound in my belly. Baby V was fine. I had woken up that morning pretty sure this was the day, I've had this with every one of my babies, I've just known when they were going to be born in the next 24 hours. All day long I felt like my body was trying to go into labor but was being held back. My FaceBook status twice reflected it: "Feeling like a car revving the engine" and even less poetic "You-know-what or get off the pot girlfriend. I'm going to dinner now." I couldn't swear on FaceBook for some reason but you all know what I meant. Having seen it before in myself and women I've attended I had a hunch that having my children around was keeping me from kicking into gear and so we planned to pack them up and send them on their way to our friends LKH and EKH where we knew they'd be safe, have fun and we wouldn't need to worry about them and I could get down to the business of birthing a baby.


With the girls gone I worked on getting in touch with Linda as we had planned for her to come and take photos of the labor and birth. Thankfully she checked her Facebook and saw the message I left her since her number was erased from my phone causing me to panic that we wouldn't be able to get a hold of her. She called and headed right out, getting to our place around 11 or maybe midnight. I don't remember because by the time she got there my contractions had indeed decided to get this show on the road and I was in early labor.

There is obviously more to the labor/birth story but I'll leave you with this. A week ago tomorrow I looked like this:

And today, we have this:

These moments are marked in red in the day planner of my heart for several reasons. They mark the beginning of the end of the journey of bring our daughter into the world, they speak of the healing of some very painful moments and relationships along the way, they remind me of dear friends both new and old that journeyed with me, they testify to my personal strength of surviving another HG pregnancy and the agony that caused as well as the labor and birth, they chronicle the love of Jeremy and I birthing together again, they are likely the last of their kind as we feel we are done having children, and they direct the eyes of my heart back to God, the author of it all. Moments such as these deserve the red marker, emblazoning them on my heart's memory forever. I hope you have learned to pause and cherish such moments.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

The Ultimate Excuse

Cosette Marguerite Constance Martin-Weber
7lbs, 4oz; 19.5 inches
12.28.09, 7. 36 a.m.
Born at home into my hands surrounded by love and peace.


I started several posts over the last week or so. I had planned a post on "Happy Holiday vs. Merry Christmas," one on our Christmas traditions, a few brief update posts, some maternity photo posts, a Christmas activities post, some WIP and a post on procrastination but I kept, er, procrastinating? I have a good excuse now though, sorta.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Advent Benediction

I wrote this December 2, 2007, I think it was the first Sunday in Advent but I could be mistaken. This is a very special benediction to me, written during the season of Advent and me very pregnant with Evangeline Claire, her very name meaning clear good news or gospel. Today, the second Sunday of Advent a year later I reflect and share this benediction with you here no longer pregnant and wondering what happened to the waiting as another year has flown by.

Benediction 12.02.07

Ripe expectation
In chaos ignored
Joyful suffering forgotten
For temporal desires
Hording stifles compassion's cries
Afraid to lose what we can never keep
Apathy, our subtle friend
Blinds us to complacency's clutch

Mary, full waiting
Longing for pain
For midst the lingering groans
And washing waves
The vision of promise sweet
Is for a moment lost
Consumed by the work
Of love to be born
But from wrenching pain and stinging sweat
Each determined grip
Births creation's Maker
The Word in Flesh

Release breath
Listen now
Love's cries awaken new
Eternal wealth
Living to be shared
Like pure water
Life-giving for all

Go out and share the wealth
Divine love has come