The Health Secretary Matt Hancock has promised an inquiry after an investigation revealed that women are being denied epidurals and pain relief when they request them. Six NHS Trusts were identified where women were refused pain relief when they asked for it and campaigners say some women are left so scarred that they’ve suffered PTSD or even been left too afraid to have more children.
Official guidelines from the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) say women must be able to access pain relief when they ask for it, so the fact that women (at a time when they are at their most vulnerable or likely in the greatest pain they’ll ever face for a prolonged period of time) are not being given that right is pretty scandalous. But I’m not surprised. I had one and I felt the disapproval before, during and still, after.
There is still a huge amount of epidural-shaming that goes on – pain-martyring is real in birth in a way that is totally absent in any other walk of life. This does not happen: ‘What a legend! He broke his leg and didn’t even have a cast! Just let it hang there! Bone was out and all kinds. Only popped two paracetamols!’ Women who talked to the Sunday Telegraph during their investigation{
In all other ways we are now taught to be kinder to ourselves, to practice self-care, to ask for help, to talk about our problems and to listen to our bodies. Except when it comes to birth, we’re only supposed to listen to our bodies screaming out in pain for hour upon hour upon hour. We’re supposed to gain status as we feel every big ‘surge’ (because you don’t call it a contraction; it’s a surge, it’s natural, it’s bringing you your child, don’t question it). We shouldn’t, though, listen to the big, fat bit of our brain that has evolved with us for thousands of years that’s screaming, ‘This is too much, I need some help.’ That's not the listening 'they' mean.
Harry Kane is one of many celebrities who have been blasted for posting about being proud of their wives and partners for giving birth without pain relief. Woke areas of social media jumped on him, articles were scribed and we all nodded our heads and said things like, ‘Women have the right to give birth however they wish to.’
But, unlike the arenas of mental health, other pain, or addiction, where it feels like things are starting to change and messages of kindness are starting to filter through to our collective consciousness, birth is a bizarre no-mans-land of medicine and shame.
It’s a place where the old and new collide, but women are still left worse off. It’s a strange area where the old world says, ‘Come on, this is how we've done it for centuries, stiff upper lips, please, women!’ and the new world says, ‘No, it’s your body, your choice, you can do this, women are amazing, but did you know breathing is the greatest anaesthetic ever and breast milk is the cure for everything you could ever imagine?!’ The place where those two worlds intersect is the place where women deal with birth and pregnancy every day. And for many of us, it’s a grim place to be. It’s where the so-called ‘cult of natural childbirth’ lives.
I’m not here to criticise NCT – it gave me a group of friends I wouldn’t have survived without. It gave me good advice. It gave me places to go and information after the birth. But the kind of birth preparation we were given seemed to point to some kind of pain-shaming. We played ‘a game’ one night, where we were shown the pros and cons of different pain relief methods, without being told what they were. Then we had to decide what we think we’d consider using based on just those facts. The miracle one that was apparently scientifically proven to reduce pain, help birth and have no side-effects? Water. The one with cons from paralysis to long-term health conditions, with ‘few upsides’? An epidural, of course. NCT takes a lot of flack, but a lot of the newer, 'kinder/cool' birth groups preach a similar new age vibe of welcoming your baby with every ounce of pain.
I’ve seen this attitude trickle through with expectant mums who’ve done as little prep as read a book, and those who have done so much research they’re basically as qualified as a doctor. When friends who are about to give birth talk to me and I tell them I had an epidural, they nod along and all say the same thing. ‘Hmmm, yeah. I think I’ll definitely try as much as I can without.’ Of course – no-one wants to have a medical procedure they don’t need. But it still shocks me the number of women I’ve talked to who say, ‘Oh yeah, I’ll be toooootally fine if I do need it’ but behind their eyes I can see they have essentially closed it off in their minds. Before the first contraction starts, they already 'know' an epidural is a worst case scenario, or – worse – a sign of failure. Where is that coming from? I feel for them – and to be honest I feel for myself.
This is the bit where I should share my story - explain why I needed an epidural, the dire circumstances that made it ‘ok’ for me. It’s what I’ve found myself doing many times in the year since I gave birth. Justifying myself. When I say it people (who usually haven’t had epidurals, because despite what you read about too-posh-to-push tribes, few women I’ve met have had them) say things like, ‘Oh yeah, I can understand why you had that then.’ They can square it. I can tell they're just trying to be nice.
I need to be done explaining myself – so I won’t continue to here. I’ve typed and deleted justifications several times while writing this piece. I’m aching to tell you why and how and what happened… but I shouldn’t. It shouldn't matter. Pain relief is a woman's right and not a sign of failure or an indicator of anything. So I won’t. Because if I can’t stop pain-shaming myself, how can I ask anyone else to?
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READ MORE: Can We Please Stop Telling Women How To Give Birth?