The Reality of Childbirth Amid Coronavirus: It’s Strange Yes, But Beautiful And Hopeful, Too

In the birthing pool in London’s Barnet Hospital, 33-year-old Emilia Ratzckowski is rocking in agony. She is mid-contraction and sucking for all she’s worth on gas and air. Her partner Harry is yet to get into the rhythm of things and stands at a distance, back firmly against the wall, tapping away on his phone.

Even so, Emilia is glad to be here. Giving birth is stressful at the best of times, but doing it during a global pandemic raises it to another level. As a carer in an old people’s home, Emilia spent much of her pregnancy in the midst of a Covid-19 breeding ground. Since stopping work in mid-March, rather than putting her feet up or enjoying a baby shower, she has been in total isolation.

‘It’s been so hard,’ she says between gasps. ‘It’s my first baby and all the time I’ve been thinking of the virus – worrying about what I’m doing, what I’m touching and watching the news constantly. The baby isn’t due for another week, but I can’t wait to get him out.’

The care here in the birth centre at Barnet Hospital, part of the Royal Free London NHS Foundation Trust, is extraordinary. Dimmed lights, double beds and scatterings of tea lights create an atmosphere that’s just one step away from a home birth. Emilia’s midwife perches at the side of the bath, whispering encouragement in their Polish mother tongue. Aside from her obligatory mask, all rules of social distancing have to be forgotten as they breathe through contractions together, faces just inches apart.

Since the advent of coronavirus, some radical changes have slipped almost unnoticed into the way we practice childbirth in the UK. Husbands and partners are no longer allowed in hospital until the woman is actually in labour – and then they are only allowed to witness the birth, before being sent straight home.

‘It’s as if Covid-19 has taken us back decades, to the era when husbands didn’t enter the room,’ says Rowena Chilton, Barnet Hospital’s midwife matron of 23 years. ‘Partners can’t attend scans or other antenatal appointments. It’s incredibly hard on the women.’

On the wards today the impact is clear. I bump into one frazzled new mum, who has been on the antenatal ward for 10 days without a single visitor, as her baby is on antibiotics. I meet 17-year-old trainee hairdresser Abbey, also having her first baby, who spent the previous night crying and FaceTiming her mother Lee, who heroically parked her car and slept outside the hospital, just so she could be close by.

‘When I brought Abbey in, she was so nervous she nearly fainted in reception and was sick in a bucket,’ says Lee. ‘Dropping her off seemed so cold and heartless. I totally understand Covid has changed all the rules, but I just felt so helpless.’

There was a moment, probably around Easter weekend, when the impact of the virus really hit Barnet Hospital. ‘Obviously we all knew about it but very suddenly it was upon us,’ says Rowena. ‘It was stressful and chaotic. We all had to get used to the PPE, which is incredibly hot and difficult to wear. Rules were changing on a daily basis.’

Another impact of coronavirus that swiftly became clear is that pregnant women are now staying away from hospital for as long as possible. Fearing the infection, they come as late as they dare and check out as fast as they can. It’s not uncommon now for women to give birth and go home in under four hours.

‘It has been tough,’ says Nicola Brown, coordinator of the delivery suite, as she rushes along the ward tying on a mask. ‘We are trying to keep people safe as well as cater for a life-changing moment. Normally, giving birth is so intimate – it’s all about touch and communication and feeling for the baby’s head. Now we have a great big plastic shield between us, so we have to become really good at building up a rapport with the mums in an incredibly short space of time.’

However, limiting visitors can mean more time for mums to focus on bonding and breastfeeding. ‘I think we have seen a return to many of the good old ways of midwifery,’ says Nicola. ‘Lots of rubbing backs, focusing on the mother, giving support. We’re all acutely aware that the partners can only be here for labour, so have really stepped up.’

Some mothers are also acknowledging that these strange times are producing some surprising benefits in terms of simply slowing down and increasing bonding time with their new baby. Like many first-time mums, Katie Pink, a 32-year-old banker from West Hampstead, read up on childbirth and planned a natural, drug-free delivery. Two weeks before her due date, all her plans fell apart when she discovered that the baby was breech. She ended up having a C-section in the Royal Free Hospital in Hampstead, sister hospital to Barnet.

‘I spent my pregnancy reading up on positive birth and my aim was to have a birth that I felt I was in control of,’ she says, now back home with baby Elijah. ‘I think all this reading enabled me to adapt to the changing situation. My husband and I have been in our own little bubble ever since, hunkering down with no worries about the outside world or having to entertain visitors. Despite coronavirus and having to have an unplanned C-section, I’d describe this as nothing less than an entirely positive birth experience.’

Photo by Hannah Maule-Ffinch

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