Browsing through some old pregnancy books the other day I felt
depressed all over again at the sight of so many glowing faces and
pregnant-yet-still-sexy silhouettes in the illustrations. Not a
stretchmark in sight between the lot of them. No 're-purposed'
wastepaper bins in evidence. No retching at the mere whiff of a fridge door opening within a half-mile vicinity
of their airtouched nostrils. And certainly nothing to indicate that
any of the women were semi-disabled by pregnancy-related pelvic pain
that made it hard even to turn over in bed at night, much less take
part in a photo shoot. I know, I know, publishers have to sell the books, but still.....
An estimated one in five women suffer debilitating pelvic pain in
pregnancy - albeit in varying degrees of intensity. But most mainstream
pregnancy books, wonderful and informative though they are in many respects, simply don't carry much information about pelvic girdle
pain in pregnancy. I don't know why not. My impression - I could be
wrong - is that more generally - even in the medical community -
there's not as much information available about the condition as there
might be. The dearth of information is particularly sad, as any woman
stuck at home all day in considerable pain, blaming herself for her
immobility, is going to be isolated anyway, or at least limited
in her social contact. The lack of information only exacerbates her
difficulties. I found my lovely midwife and GP were both sympathetic and
supportive, and I'm extremely grateful for all the skilled care I received from them and many others in the NHS during and after both my pregnancies, but it was only when chatting with an old schoolfriend (a
physio by background) that I stumbled by accident on the vital fact that innovative
physiotheraphy techniques are being pioneered that make pelvic girdle
pain treatable. Up until then I'd got the impression it was just something you had to put up with, if you were unlucky enough to be afflicted in the first place. The bad news? This treatment wasn't available in the NHS - not in my part of the country, anyway.
It's good to know that new charity PINS,
which presents a compassionate and realistic picture of what pregnancy
can be like for many women, is working to let more people know all about the
condition, ranging from the risk factors that may make some women more
likely to get pregnancy-related pelvic pain than others, to the latest
treatments available. It has hints and tips for managing the condition and personal accounts from its members, so people will feel less alone in their struggles. Even better is that the charity is waiving its membership fee until
its AGM next month, so if you have been affected by any issues relating
to pelvic girdle pain in pregnancy you can join up for free.
Benefits include the charity's quarterly newsletter and the chance to
meet on-line and swap tips with others suffering the same difficulties. Even
though I'm no longer pregnant (Button turns nine months this week) and
luckily my joint pain has lifted, I've joined PINS, so I can support other
people with the condition and make better sense of what happened to me.
Not off the hook after all for the home water birth. Not just yet,
anyway. Structural engineer got back in touch to veto bedroom for the
birth pool. But said our smallest room - the hall - looks like it will
take the weight. Husband due to pick up pool, pipes, bleach, colander,
heating pad tomorrow evening. Will buy waterproof torch, anglepoise
lamp, waterproof sheeting at weekend. Scared? Me?
Unsure about giving birth in hallway. Doesn't feel quite right
somehow. Will it be sufficiently private? Can't even remember how much
privacy matters in childbirth. Is it a big issue? When was having
Beanie, midwife got concerned about daughter's heart rate. Army of
green-suited doctors, anaethetists and paediatricians entered through flowery curtain.
"Hello. Where have you all come from?" I asked.
"Did you not see your midwife press the emergency button?" one of them replied.
"Errr... no," I mumbled.
"Don't push," said the midwife, looking up from her notes. "Whatever you do, don't push."
"I'm not pushing!" I said, feeling like small child.
Funny the things you do remember; many of them were wearing clogs. But
seemed fine with that. Not embarrassed, the way I would have been. There were phone calls, booking a place in the resuscitation unit, asking if
theatre was free. No, we'd have to stay put. They brought out the
forceps (I didn't look at that bit). Hauled daughter out of me as fast
as they could. Beanie shrieked with displeasure as she emerged. I was a
bit sore afterwards. Relief on face of clog-clad paediatrician posted
down bottom end to greet Beanie. "Baby can go straight to mum," she
said.
After that drama, I liked idea of giving birth in tranquillity of
own bedroom, where, ahem, this whole project started back in October.
But do not want to become stupid and obstinate about home birth.
Read cautionary tale about woman who broke down in jealous hysteria
when she got text message saying sister-in-law had 'achieved' a home
birth. This woman described herself - no, defined herself - as
HWBA3C. Yes, my thoughts exactly. Stands for 'home water birth after
three Caesareans'. She claimed the Caesareans were violations
'inflicted on her in the name of medical science'.
Spoke to my midwife, whom I trust. Asked if true NHS does unnecessary interventions.
"Look at it from a practical point of view," she said. "The NHS is
careful with its resources. It has to be. There's not a lot of money
available and funding is always being squeezed. Nobody likes to make
things more complicated than they need to be. It's expensive to do a section. It's a question of beds and staff time. We only intervene when
necessary."
Friend whose wife had their second child last
year said: "It's the head count at the end that matters."
Childbirth Daughters Health Health workers Home birth Husband Water birth