My maternity leave from the project is due to start at the end of this week and I still have loads of work to do. My house is not yet a nest that a swallow or a robin would be proud of – far from it – and my kitchen cupboards are nearing empty. So what am I doing? Researching giving birth in medieval times. As a Serious Scholar I would like to admit that the majority of this research, if you can call it that, is neither scholarly nor academic (can I use Wikipedia in my thesis?) but it is interesting all the same. One thing that has surprised me is just how many of the things I have read about medieval childbirth are very similar to the things I have been taught at my antenatal classes. I suppose when you think about it this just shows off how naive I am and proves that even medievalists can struggle to shake the idea of modern medicine not existing before the NHS…
Here are some titbits. I hope you enjoy them.
On this website I read how rich women would have a special lying-in room to give birth in, and during the labour they would be as active as possible in their search for comfort. And there was me thinking the idea of an active birth originated in the 1980s. Similarly, here I read that the use of birthing stools was quite common, which reminded me of the birthing stools I saw on my hospital tour a few weeks ago, and my midwife’s recommendation that I spend as much as possible of the start of my labour bouncing on my birth ball, utilising gravity and encouraging the little one to wriggle his or her way down.
This website describes giving birth in the Middle Ages as a ‘rite of passage’ for a woman, affirming her fertility and entry into motherhood. Nowadays we have a little more inclusive idea of what it means to be a woman – it’s not all lipsticks and having babies – but at my antenatal yoga classes we first-time mums-to-be have been encouraged to think of the inevitable labour pains as part of the birth process, creative and powerful, rather than something to be afraid of. The pains themselves are a rite of passage in the process of bringing a tiny human into the world.
Here I read that the birth room at home, even if this was part of a one- or two-roomed house, would be made comfortable for the mother by placing rushes on the floor, and if they could, they would use herbs to make the room smell nice. This is something else that struck a chord with me, and although I am not planning on giving birth on a bed of rushes, it made me think of my own box of aromatherapy oils for use in labour currently winging its way to my house courtesy of Amazon.co.uk.
This article describes giving birth as the ‘single most dangerous thing a medieval woman could do’, so Christian women giving birth might pray to saints or to God directly to help calm them down and to make them to feel safer. In modern times labour and birth still have their dangers, although thankfully in the western world it is now very unusual to hear of a women dying in childbirth. However, we are still encouraged to make ourselves feel safer and more relaxed in the run-up to and during the birth by taking along our own pillows and CDs to wherever we plan to give birth. The science is that it promotes oxytocin and reduces adrenalin, which helps the earlier part of labour progress as it should. Medieval midwives or birthing mothers might not have understood the hormones, but they certainly understood the power of feeling calm during labour.
As with all things medieval, not all of it was pretty (is childbirth ever pretty?) – and I am 100% glad I will not be giving birth back then. Baby finding it difficult to make its way down the birth canal? Breech? Twins? As a last resort a medieval surgeon would crack out the crochet hooks and knives. Yikes. Similarly, first-time mothers were often much younger in those days. Some as young as 12! There is not a chance that I would have been able to cope with pregnancy or birth at 12. I was more interested in seeing what they were giving away free with the latest copy of J-17 magazine. Fancy some leek juice to stimulate the delivery of the afterbirth? No thanks. I am also unconvinced of the method I read here of treating uterine prolapse – not sure I would enjoy being suspended by my feet minutes after giving birth – nor the use of a fingernail for an episiotomy. That’s quite enough to make your eyes water on a Wednesday afternoon.