Posts tagged bodily rights
Risk vs. rights: the home birth debate
10On the BBC News website today, we learn that British medical journal The Lancet has published an article declaring home births “too risky” for infants and stating that, even though giving birth at home is associated with fewer risks for the mother (“shorter recovery time and fewer lacerations, post-partum haemorrhages, retained placentae and infections”) women should “not have the right to put their baby at risk.”
Well. Ain’t that sweet? It’s as if the women’s rights movement never happened! We are but pods, oh masterful overlords. Guide us in your infinite wisdom so that we may bear unto you the fruit of our wombs, and happily give of ourselves all that will never be granted us in return. Ommm.
But wait, hasn’t planned home birth been found to be just as safe as hospital birth for low-risk women? Yes. Yes it has. But that doesn’t matter because The Lancet has an explanation for those faulty data.
Data also frequently include misclassified cases, since studies usually look at newborn outcomes in relation to the actual rather than planned delivery location…Most studies also rely on different midwifery models for home delivery, which are not generalisable.”
Not generalisable? You mean like the different midwifery models and health care systems used (but not controlled for) in the AJOG study upon which The Lancet is basing its opinion? Comparing home birth in the UK (where trained midwives attend around 90% of births and where there is a free-at-the-point-of-use national health care system) with home birth in the US — where only 8% of births are attended by midwives (some of whom are not certified) and where affordable, accessible antenatal care is not always easy to come by — is like looking at apples and oranges and declaring them the same because they are round.
Putting aside the fact that the AJOG study conflates outcomes unique to significantly different countries with a cohesive, well-rounded, controlled study of planned home birth in nations under similar health care systems, there remains a big problem with any argument that gives ultimate authority to someone other than the mother: human rights. If you believe that all decisions about a competent person’s care should remain with the individual in question and that patients, no matter their ‘ailment’, have the right to take advice into consideration but ultimately reject it, without threat of censure if the desirable outcome does not materialise, then you can’t very well say that women, even those considered high risk, are ‘not allowed’ to opt for a home birth.
The reasons for this are two-fold: one, because the definition of ‘high risk’ is subjective and varies greatly from one trust, hospital and health care provider to another. Some women are told they are high risk because they are obese, or over 35, or because they had a previous caesarean section. Hell, my friend was told she was an unsuitable candidate for a home birth because there was limited parking nearby and her rug wasn’t washable! If parking spots and interior furnishings are enough to deny a woman her right to choose, what would become of those in more ‘sinister’ predicaments, like being old or fat? The concern is that maternity units will begin labelling otherwise healthy women as ‘high risk’ (even if they’re not) and refusing them home births due to their own staffing problems, convenience or biases. It already happens all the time (“If it’s a busy night you’ll have to come into hospital, dear”) so without an NHS-wide list of which conditions and situations would contraindicate a home birth, each woman desiring one would have to hope against hope that she was being correctly assessed by an objective, patient-centred, evidence-based, fully-staffed maternity service which, at the moment, the UK does not have.
Secondly, all of this is beside the point! Even if a woman was pretty unquestionably high-risk and would statistically be safer in hospital, it would be a violation of her autonomy, agency and, yes, her human rights, to be forcibly hospitalised for observation and interventions which she may not have consented to, ‘for the sake of the baby’. Take all of the arguments for being pro-choice and apply them here — until a baby is independent of its mother’s body, it is a woman’s choice what she does with it (and where and with whom).
The vast majority of births proceed normally (or would do if they weren’t interfered with) and need little medical assistance. Many births that would have been fine on their own are tinkered with, sped up or subject to impersonal, litigation-wary hospital policy, creating their own set of complications and crises. Some women, even if they don’t need or make use of the medical assistance, are comforted by having it on stand-by. That is how our current culture frames birth; Better safe than sorry! Just in case!
But some women feel much safer and at ease in their own environment, at home, and believe in their body’s ability to give birth. Punishing mothers for doing what is best for them on the minuscule off-chance of untreatable catastrophe for the baby is akin to berating a parent whose child choked to death on a piece of food while she was at work for leaving him with a trusted care provider who didn’t also happen to be a paediatric surgeon or emergency medical respondent.
Things happen. Tragedy happens. People die, including babies. It’s always horrible. It’s always sad. Sometimes it is preventable, sometimes it isn’t. And some people will never understand even considering taking that risk, no matter how small. I get that. It’s a visceral, emotional reaction to the cultural narrative we’ve become woven into; of harm reduction at all costs, of no child left behind and one loss being one too many.
But the thing is, there is ALWAYS a chance of complications, no matter which setting you choose. Women die in hospitals during or immediately after childbirth all the time, from haemorrhaging, fatal clots (often incurred after caesarean surgery) , infections (often acquired in hospital) or human error. In cases where a woman, or her baby, would have lived if they hadn’t been in hospital — if she hadn’t had the induction that led to the caesarean that led to the her fatal embolism or the baby’s respiratory failure — do we blame them? Do we ban hospital birth and say it’s risky? No. Because ALL birth carries some element of risk. Giving birth is giving life, and life comes with risk. Are we really so terrified of mortality, or so arrogant, as to think we can eliminate it completely?
Ensuring that pregnant women have all of the information and support they need to make the decision best for THEM (not some patronising attempt to strong-arm, scaremonger or strip them of their rights and give them to people who ‘know better’) — and then trusting and respecting that decision — is the only acceptable position on this, as far as I’m concerned.
And I am concerned. I’m very concerned about what this means for pregnant women’s rights. Are you?
The public policing of pregnancy
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Any pregnant woman who has ever ordered a glass of wine with her dinner, asked for a regular (non-decaf) coffee, or nibbled on a piece of brie from the cheese plate will know what it feels like to be watched, monitored and judged. Many women have told me stories of barmen asking if they’re sure they don’t want him to add some soda water to that pinot grigio, or a barista saying “You mean decaf, right?” with her eyebrow arched. Some women have even been refused service or kicked out of establishments for drinking a pint of beer or attempting to buy a block of cheese.
I know that one of my biggest pet peeves when I was pregnant with my first child was the assumption that I was completely helpless, vulnerable and unable to make decisions based on calculated risk by myself. While I acknowledge that heavily pregnant women are at a physical disadvantage in certain situations and do indeed have a decreased sense of balance, a harder time standing for long periods of time and shouldn’t be lifting a load of bricks or anything, it got ridiculous at some stages. I had people rushing forward to pry a door out of my hands and open it for me, or insist on carrying my one bag of shopping, which consisted mainly of a tub of ice cream and extra-soft toilet tissue. And on the occasions when I was only going to be on the Underground or bus for a stop or two and so politely declined the seat offered me, I would get annoyed, even hostile reactions. I had one lady absolutely INSIST I take her seat, even though by the time we had this conversation, she got her things out of the area and I heaved myself into it, I had arrived at my stop and had to extract myself from the tangle of bags and limbs to get back to the doors again. The patronisation from some quarters was palpable.
Don’t get me wrong; I always appreciated the offer and more often than not, took them up on it, grateful for the protection from being smashed and elbowed in the stomach during the rush hour commute. But as my bump grew and I got closer and closer to my due date, I got not only looks of sympathy but ones of distaste. I remember one man grumbling under his breath when I waddled onto the train carriage one morning: “Jesus, is she going to give birth here too?” and rolling his eyes. It was astonishing, and obvious that some people felt that I should be confined to my home, a la the Victorians.
Funnily enough, that concern seemed much less prevalent when I was pregnant with my second child and had my daughter in tow with me. There were many times when I genuinely could have used some help while trying to get my pushchair, shopping and massive belly out of a narrow shop while holding the heavy door open and had completely able-bodied and pushchair-less people wait patiently, not offering any help, while I struggled and heaved and got flustered. It was as if the fact I was already a mother meant I didn’t need any help or consideration at all. Kind of like “Well, you knew what you were getting yourself into this time…”
I know it’s hard for people (especially those who have never been pregnant themselves) to know what to do and that each woman is different in what kind of help she’d like or need, but I think it’s safe to say that offering = good, insisting or completely ignoring = bad.
Of course, none of this compares with what Samantha Burton went through. Burton, who was 25 weeks pregnant and had two older children, was hospitalised against her will in Florida last March when she questioned her doctor’s order for complete bed rest after he suspected an impending miscarriage. Burton, who simply asked for a second opinion, was then forcibly hospitalised and forced to submit to “any and all medical treatments” the doctors felt necessary to ensure the safety of her foetus, even though a) there is no clinical evidence to support the commonly-held belief that bed rest improves outcomes for miscarriages; b) she had two other children to care for and so bed rest wasn’t feasible; and c) IT’S HER BODY AND THEREFORE HER DECISION. For three days she was held captive until undergoing a forced cesarean section that revealed her foetus had died anyway.
Thankfully, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) has taken up the case and will be following it and keeping us updated as it goes through the Florida Court of Appeals since it (amazingly) lost in the original trial, Burton v. Florida. So far, the state of Florida has (appallingly but not surprisingly, in a state with a nearly 40% cesarean section rate) defended its actions as simply “maintaining the status quo.” Sadly, the status quo in America (and increasingly in other places as well) seems to be about treating pregnant women as incubators and their rights secondary to that of the foetus residing in and dependent on their bodies.
Making sure that we are afforded the same rights to make decisions regarding our health, safety and care as anyone else (even if an onlooker or doctor doesn’t approve) is absolutely imperative in ensuring we have full human rights, let alone “women’s rights.” And part of exerting that autonomy is by being able to eat cheese, drink caffeine, have a beer or carry our own shopping, Pregnancy Police be damned.