Warding off men during labour

MEN'S HEALTH: One birth expert says fathers should not be at the birth of their children because they make the process more …

MEN'S HEALTH:One birth expert says fathers should not be at the birth of their children because they make the process more difficult, so what do fathers who were at the births of their children think? asks MICHAEL KELLY

IF I suggest that being at the birth of their child is a difficult proposition for fathers, female readers will probably want to fire this paper out of the window and then have a public lynching with yours truly in the role of “him being lynched”.

They would be perfectly right too, because any emotional discomfort that a man is suffering during childbirth is altogether inconsequential when put in the context of the very real discomfort that the poor mother is going through.

It is worth bearing in mind however that not so long ago a man’s rightful place during the birth of his child was to anxiously pace the waiting room floor or perhaps tread the boards of the local pub, glass in hand.

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Thirty years ago just 5 per cent of fathers attended their child’s birth, whereas nowadays the majority of men are at their partner’s side for this monumental occasion. The big question is: what exactly are men supposed to do there? What’s their role?

Leading obstetrician and author Michael Odent controversially believes that men should stay away from births. According to Odent (who has been delivering babies for 50 years), when a man is present a woman cannot be as relaxed as she needs to be during labour, and the process becomes longer and more difficult.

But perhaps all that men need is a bit of guidance on the matter and to be told by medical professionals, over the course of the pregnancy, exactly what will be expected of them during the labour.

Having received this education maybe men wouldn’t be as inclined to adopt the entirely inappropriate, stereotypical behaviours that blight the maternity ward: the camcorder dad, who spends most of his time focusing on getting a good recording of the event; the angry military dad who barks orders at his wife/partner and complains that she’s not doing the breathing right; the squeamish dad who passes out at the first sight of gore and then needs tea, toast and TLC to help him recover while the woman gets on with the work of delivering their child into the world.

The problem is that men just aren’t good at taking on a supportive, observational role, particularly in an emotionally tense situation. We are hardwired to want to “do something” to problem-solve, to fix – we can’t help it, that’s just the way we’ve evolved.

This is problematic in childbirth because the reality is that there’s absolutely nothing a man can do to ‘fix’ the situation. He can offer support and comfort, hold his partner’s hand and whisper words of gentle encouragement – but a successful outcome rests not with him, but with the mother and the medical professionals.

Perhaps the stereotypical roles mentioned above are constructed by men because they’ll do anything rather than take on the passive observational role that is required of them.

Paul Holland has attended the birth of all three of his boys (the latest arrival, Josh, was born just three weeks ago) and believes the current generation of Irish dads should count themselves lucky that they are able to witness the birth of their children. He admits, however, that he felt pretty useless when it came to it.

“All you are doing is basically watching someone else doing this incredible thing. You are there to witness it: to support, hand-hold, encourage and stay out of the way. I felt I was way out of my league, so it’s not a time to be offering advice.”

So was his wife pleased that he was there? “You would have to ask her that,” he says, laughing. “The thing about it is that childbirth is not about you. You’re not on the stage so to speak. It’s about the mother and child and you come a very distant third.”

Holland believes that for many men, the moment of childbirth is the first time that they come face to face with the reality of fatherhood.

“I think that from the moment she finds out that she is pregnant a woman is starting to become a parent. She feels certain things in her body.

“For the man, life doesn’t really change until the moment of birth – in a split-second he goes from being a non-parent to being a parent. It’s overwhelming really.”

In many ways the traditional hospital-based and medically led model of maternity services excludes men during the pregnancy which compounds the feeling of isolation for men during birth.

“I think that medical professionals are glad that the partner is involved,” says Holland, “but at the same time I was under no illusions that I was peripheral to the whole thing.”

But there are interesting changes afoot in the delivery of maternity services which may well help to further define the role of men in the whole process. An example of this is the Community Midwifery Service (CMS) at the National Maternity Hospital in Holles Street which has been in operation for 10 years and offers midwifery-led home birth services as well as hospital births with an early transfer home.

The service is available in south Dublin and north Wicklow and has delivered more than 2,900 babies since it was established. This service is part of an overall effort to “de-medicalise” childbirth and so is aimed at women who are deemed to be at low risk of complications.

A byproduct of this service is that the prospective fathers tend to feel more included during the pregnancy and the birth.

“I think the midwives are very good at including the father,” says Niall Bowen whose children David and Ciarán were born at home.

“The prenatal visits were done in the home and usually on a Saturday which meant I could be there and get involved. They would always ask me whether I had questions. I felt very much included.”

So why home birth? “My wife Jean just prefers the idea of a midwifery-led service. We feel that a hospital is the best place to be if you’re sick, but pregnancy and childbirth have nothing to do with sickness.

“We got to know the midwives during the pregnancy so it wasn’t like these strangers arrived in our house to deliver the baby. We trusted them. They are experts in delivering babies so you leave them do their thing.

“When they arrived on the night of the birth they rang the local ambulance service to let them know they were doing a home birth – there’s great comfort knowing that you have the option if any complications arise.”

The midwives gave Niall the job of filling the birthing pool. “We had borrowed one from friends and the idea was that Jean could spend some time in it to try to relax. So my job was filling it with hot water which kept me out of their way. Then for the final two hours I was just helping whatever way I could: mopping her brow, getting towels and so on. Jean squeezed my hands to death.”

The sudden arrival of fatherhood was all the more acute because the birth took place in the home, he believes.

“There’s this sudden discovery that you have an all-screaming, all-crying baby in your home that you can’t hand it back to someone else. It was all very sudden.”

The idea of a home birth was a bridge too far for John Tracey and his wife Michelle – but for the birth of their son Ethan, they did opt for a domino birth under the CM service.

Under this scheme all prenatal care is provided by a team of midwives (as opposed to a consultant-led model).

The baby is born in hospital, but the mum returns home within about six hours as long as there are no complications, and postnatal follow-up is provided at home.

“We had our two girls, Lauren and Nicole, in Holles Street and while we thought it was great, Michelle was in hospital for four days,” says John.

“We wanted more of an experience this time around and to feel like we had that bit more control. My role was to support Michelle and be there when our children were born. I did what I was told, spoke when spoken to and generally stayed out of the way.”

Having experienced a domino birth as well as the more traditional model, John is well placed to comment on the differences between the two.

“I went to a number of check-ups this time and I felt more included. I definitely wasn’t just looked on as ‘the husband’. They were asking me questions as well. During the birth I felt a little more involved too. The midwife was asking me to get this and pass that. I felt more useful, which was nice.”

  • For more information on the Community Midwifery Service (CMS) at the National Maternity Hospital see www.nmh.ie