Midwifing my
sister: a deeply profound experience
(Originally published in The Practising Midwife (2006); 9(4):18-9.
In 1993, as a
nearly-qualified student midwife, I cared for a friend having her first baby; it
was a harrowing experience.
I felt
vulnerable as a junior in the NHS hierarchy.
My friend was relying on me to protect her from harm but I felt
powerless to do that.
She and I felt
traumatised from the birth.
I vowed not
to provide midwifery care for a friend or family member again until I could
have more influence over the decision-making process.
So when, in 2002,
my sister Anne asked me to be her midwife I was rather wary. At the time, I had been working overseas for
several years. I had only recently
returned to midwifery practice in the UK and begun to rebuild my
confidence. Anne lived outside my normal
area of practice and I felt uneasy about acting as a midwife in an unfamiliar
area. Initially we planned for me to be
a birth partner rather than a midwife. I
encouraged her to book with her local midwives but to use me as a sounding
board if she wished. However, as we
talked through her birth plan and the various scenarios that might happen within
NHS maternity care, Anne became sure that she wanted me to be her midwife, not
just her doula. She wanted to know the
person at her birth that would be helping her to make decisions. She wanted me as a midwife to protect her and
her baby from routine medicalisation.
This was especially important as Anne was having her first baby at 40
and she felt that she might be treated as high-risk by virtue of her age
alone. She felt well prepared for the
birth, both physically and mentally, and wanted minimal intervention.
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| Anne (left), Me (Centre), Esther (Right) - around 1970 |
Anne felt she
would be unable to birth comfortably in her local hospital which had tiny
labour rooms and seemed busy and impersonal.
However, her husband felt uncomfortable with the idea of a
homebirth. As a compromise, she decided
to have her baby in the unit where I worked, staying with our parents (who live
locally) as the birth approached. I
explained to Anne that I could not guarantee being present at the birth, as I
was working full-time and also studying for an MSc. I reserved the right to ask a colleague to
take over Anne’s care if at any time I felt awkward or unable to be objective
in my professional decision making. I talked
with my supervisor who agreed to support me and signed a vicarious liability form
to enable me to work outside of my contracted hours if needed.
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| Anne in recent years |
As it happened, Anne
timed her birth perfectly! She went into
labour at forty one weeks and spent a few hours at a local pottery and later at
home, using yoga positions and breathing techniques. She phoned me just before I went to work for a
night shift to tell me that her contractions were getting stronger, although
she was coping fine. I warned my
colleagues at work that my sister might be arriving in labour and they were
very supportive, making plans to free me up should the need arise. Anne kept in touch by phone, and finally came
into the hospital with her husband at around 0230, contracting strongly every 2
minutes!
As she walked
through the door I could see she was in well-established labour and was coping
really well. She seemed very relaxed and
I think the ‘adrenaline rush’ which sometimes accompanies women into hospital
and puts their labour “off the boil” did not occur because she knew she was
coming to someone who loved her and whom she trusted.
I ran the birth
pool as Anne had thought she would like to use water for labour and/or
birth. However, in the event she seemed
to get into a rhythm on dry land and did not want or need to get in the
water. She was almost completely silent
in labour. She did not need me to have
physical contact, just to be there. I
supplied tissues, bowls and water when she threw up (which she did throughout
her labour) and helped her find other comfortable positions when her knees gave
way. She spent most of the time standing
leaning over the bed, squatting next to it, or kneeling on the floor. She used no pain relief, other than a TENS
machine. I sat at the side of the room,
quietly reading whilst writing notes which I hoped would not only provide a midwifery
record of the birth, but also some sense of the occasion. I reviewed my note-taking with the midwife in
charge every couple of hours to help me maintain a sense of objectivity.
I had decided to
have a second midwife in the room with me for the birth, to give me confidence
and to ensure transparency. However, I
learned that not all midwives are comfortable with normal birth in upright
positions and labour rooms without monitors!
I noticed that Anne’s rhythm was disturbed when other people entered the
room. I worked hard to maintain a relaxed
atmosphere and to protect Anne from unnecessary interventions from others,
whilst making sure that I had the back-up I needed. When the delivery was imminent I called for a
second midwife with some reluctance. To
my delight a like-minded colleague entered the room, having just arrived for an
early shift. She did not disrupt the
calm, expectant ambience that we had created and was just “there for me” which
I really appreciated, not taking over but being appropriately friendly and
kind.
Anne birthed baby
Freya beautifully at 0717 in a kneeling position, with little input from
me. As Freya was born Anne said (more to
herself than anyone) “I can’t believe it, it was just how I wanted it to
be”. It was the end of my shift so I
hand-picked a lovely midwife to take over from me. We then had some very special family time,
making phone calls, Freya nuzzling skin-to-skin and all of us having some good
old NHS tea and toast. The following
night my colleagues arranged for me to work on the postnatal ward so that I
could continue to care for Anne and Freya.
Anne then went back to my parent’s house for a fortnight of mothering
before returning home, breastfeeding beautifully and delighted with her birth
experience. Freya is now three and
brings us all a great deal of joy.
Anne has
recently given birth to her second baby, Max, at home. Four months after Freya’s birth, I also
helped my sister, Esther, to have her
first baby at home. Again, it was a
wonderful experience for all of us and I have become fascinated with the
concept of midwifing friends and family.
Having strangers in attendance at a birth is only a very recent phenomenon. Less than a hundred years ago, women were almost
always midwifed by family members or someone well-known to them; in many parts
of the world this is still the norm. In
today’s culture of medicalised birth owned by “the system” rather than by the
family, many of my colleagues and friends expressed surprise that I was
“allowed” to care for my family members in a professional capacity or that I
should want to. Some found the idea disgusting;
others wondered if it is even legal.
Midwifing Anne
was a profoundly moving experience. It
felt so natural and right to be looking after her in labour. It did not feel weird, scary or awkward – I
felt very relaxed and had a strong sense that everything would work out
fine. I had faith in Anne’s ability to
birth her baby without intervention and I felt immensely proud of her for what
she achieved. It has deepened our relationship and I have a very special bond
with Freya. I am not able to birth my own children (though
I have an adopted daughter) and being with my sister as she had her baby was
strangely comforting. If I had been lucky enough to birth a baby, I like to
think that I should have been as strong and brave as my sister was.
If your sister
or friend wants YOU to be her midwife:
- Encourage her to write a birth plan and talk it
through with you
- Enlist the support of your supervisor and your
colleagues
- Be prepared for some negative comments
- Have a back-up plan for a long or difficult labour
- Be careful about who comes in the room!
- Enjoy it!
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| My lovely sis with her kids a few years ago |
