Showing posts with label Birth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Birth. Show all posts

Wednesday, 14 May 2014

Home Births: Let Pregnant Women Decide

 One of the things I loved about being pregnant in the Netherlands was the fact that I was not treated like I had a medical condition. I went to the hospital during my first pregnancy only for scans (and in subsequent pregnancies even these were done in the midwife practice) a blood test in the first trimester and a rush visit in the last trimester when my baby's heartbeat was deemed to be too fast by my midwife.

The rest of the time I saw only a group of midwives in their practice. Hospitals, as great as they are when you actually need them, are not places I need to spend a lot of time in.

What I also loved was the fact that I could make a considered judgement about where I wanted to give birth. I had the option of a home or a hospital birth. If I had been pregnant in England I am 99% sure a home birth would not have even been a topic of conversation.

In the UK only 2.4% of births happen at home compared to nearly 20% in the Netherlands. The cost of a hospital birth in the Netherlands is only fully covered by medical insurance if there is a medical reason for it. Plus the Dutch first line care (midwives) advocate natural births. At least in 2006, they certainly did.

I'm an expat, and the first thing that crossed my mind was how culturally different a birth in the UK was (or in the US for that matter), where all my friends seemed to be talking about epidurals and gas and air. However, I decided that if I could, I would opt for a home birth. What could be more comfortable than not having to pack up a case and head off to an unknown, sterile environment surrounded by strange faces to give birth?

But when it came down to it I had to go to hospital. There was meconium in the embryonic fluid and I had no choice. The midwife was with me at home, and made it clear that we had to transfer as quickly as we could to the hospital. No panic, no stress, just matter of factly, "Let's move it".

I was devastated. I hadn't prepared myself for Plan B. Everything was ready for a home birth, not a hospital birth (it turned out that I seemed to have absentmindedly forgotten to complete the packing of my hospital case).

A typical delivery suite at a Dutch hospital
(ball not included!)
The details of the birth I will save for a rainy day (or a book) but suffice to say that because the maternity ward was working at maximum capacity and there was not enough staff to attend to all the women in labour as it was needed I had a difficult, stressful delivery. No woman should have to go through a traumatic labour and birth because of staff shortages. My husband and I were left alone for large chunks of time in the delivery room - feeling helpless, clueless and upset. My baby also became distressed.

So no one will ever convince me that a hospital room is always the best place for a woman to give birth, because it is safer, because of 'just in case', that it should be the first choice of every woman, regardless of situation.

A doula and a whole lot of personal experience made the difference for me the second and third births around - also in a hospital.

And so to last week. Dutch News.nl translated an article that appeared in De Volkskrant on 29 April (if you can read Dutch be sure to read the original article, and particularly the comments it evoked - including from gynaecologists themselves) called "Home Births: Let the Gynaecologists Decide".  In the article the two authors (Kenneth Watson and Rob Kottenhagen) are advocating that gynaecologists should decide whether women can safely give birth at home or not. It's an opinion piece. And this in turn is my opinion piece about the article.

The first line already riled me; translated from the original article, the piece starts like this.
"It is irresponsible to keep home births as the cornerstone of midwifery care."
And it riles me because just over 80% of women in the Netherlands give birth in the hospital. The cornerstone of midwifery care is not home birth.
It goes on to state,
"The German poet Heinrich Heine once said that if the end of the world came he would go to the Netherlands because there everything happened fifty years later. This comment seems a fitting one for another anachronistic Dutch phenomenon: the home birth. Everywhere in the affluent West the safety of mother and child is paramount and hospital births are the norm." Dutch News 2 May 2014
It goes on to talk about midwives playing Russian Roulette with the lives of mothers and babies, that midwives make woefully inadequate risk assessments.

By the time I got to the end of the piece my blood was boiling. And I don't even think it was because of the message in the article, more the tone. I can well imagine how any midwife felt reading the article. The authors imply that the priority of the midwife is not the mother, nor the baby. And how insulting must that be to such a profession?

I miss the part in the article where it states around the time that the worrying baby death figures were published that part of the discussion was that gynaecologists, doctors and anaesthetists weren't always around at night in hospitals. That their absence put women in danger.

I miss the part that admits that many women who were successfully able to have a home birth had a wonderful experience. I gave birth three times in a hospital, and not one time could I say it was a pleasant experience. It got the job done - I took three healthy baby boys home with me, but pleasant? No. Absolutely not. I am envious of the many positive home birth stories I have heard.

I miss the acknowledgement of the research that indicates that hospital births increase the chances of intervention being necessary (caesarian sections, vacuum pump and so on). That labour is lasting longer and longer as women lie around in hospital beds.

I welcome any proper discussion on the topic of child birth, whether that be about the Netherlands or elsewhere. Childbirth should be safe, no matter where you give birth. Women should have a choice. Women should make the decisions, based on facts and risks with the help of the professionals (I'm not alone thinking this see: http://www.knov.nl/actueel-overzicht/nieuws-overzicht/detail/keuze-vrouw-centraal-in-reacties-opiniestuk/1386).

I believe all women should have the right to a safe environment and professional care for labour and birth. But the truth is that sometimes things go wrong; they go wrong in a maternity ward in a hospital, they go wrong at home. Midwives are human. Gynaecologists are human. Labour is unpredictable. Births do not follow a script.

I feel strongly that demonising midwives is just wrong. That's my opinion. Instead of the eternal battle that rages on in the Netherlands between midwifes and gynaecologists about who is best to lead pregnancies, labour and births, it would be nice to see more collaboration. Instead of one camp against another I would rather see more unity, seamless co-operation, specialists working together in the interest of mothers-to-be and their unborn children. Less emphasis on who gets the money for delivery, more emphasis on safety, but also comfort! The comfort of the mother, a relaxed mother, a contented mother, which is proven to aid the labour process, seems to have been forgotten along the way.

The only positive thing I can say about this article is that, despite its dismissive, condescending tone, it has of course sparked discussion. I am, after all, writing about it. Many are talking about it. Many have commented on it. It's a topic that will always spark controversy, that will evoke the most primal of emotions. I believe women should have a choice where they give birth.

But lastly, when all is said and done, I believe child birth is a topic that should be treated respectfully, which I missed in this article.

Thursday, 17 April 2014

My Reverse Expat Bucket List

Instead of keeping track of all the things I still want to do in life, I loved Erika from America's idea of capturing all the experiences and achievements that she has already been fortunate enough to have.

And as a contra to some of the most recent posts I have written about the tougher aspects of expat life, I thought it would be nice to dwell on all the great things I have done, seen and achieved because of my expat life.

You can read more about how this idea evolved here. But I don't want to just throw my reverse expat bucket list out there - I want to read yours too, hence the idea of a blogging link up. You can find the link up button and a picture you can use at the end of this post.

So here goes. This is my reverse bucket list made possible because I became an expat and moved to the Netherlands.
  1. Be a mama to three beautiful Dutch boys
  2. Abandon your comfort zone and take a huge risk
  3. Expand your world
  4. Fit all your worldly possessions into a borrowed police trailer and take it from England to the Netherlands to make a new life
  5. Marry a Dutchman
  6. Get married at a mill (even if it is water and not wind)
  7. Live daily life in a second language
  8. Go through the classic culture shock curve and come out smiling
  9. Adapt to a new culture
  10. Appreciate your British culture
  11. Learn what is important in life by watching the Dutch masters of work life balance
  12. Have Dutch people speak Dutch back to you when you speak Dutch to them
  13. Have three bilingual children
  14. Have three dual nationality children
  15. Bring three children up in two cultures
  16. Visit four countries in one day 
  17. Find three ways to travel from the Netherlands to England
  18. Take a high speed train to Paris
  19. Visit a Christmas market in Germany
  20. Drive to Denmark and visit Legoland
  21. Drive to Euro Disney
  22. Visit Movie World in Germany by car
  23. Visit Muiderslot
  24. Visit Keukenhof at its most beautiful 
  25. See the Dutch flower fields up close and personal
  26. Visit the Zaanse Schans
  27. View the Netherlands from above in a very, very small plane.
    Fly it yourself for seven seconds before you freak out and give the control back to an experienced pilot
  28. Have a family photo session outside the Dutch parliament
  29. Get back on a bicycle after a twenty year abstention
  30. Plan for a home birth
  31. Plan to give birth without pain relief
  32. Have three children born in a Dutch hospital
  33. Welcome kraamzorg in to your home three times and realise just how lucky you are to have postnatal help
  34. Own a home abroad
  35. Cook a Dutch meal
  36. Eat a sweet pancake and call it dinner, not pudding
  37. Eat speculoos with abandonment
  38. Eat an orange tompouce
  39. Eat Indonesian food
  40. Renovate an old worker's house in The Hague
  41. Understand the terms and conditions of your mortgage written solely in Dutch
  42. Watch The Bridge spoken in original language with Dutch subtitles and understand what is going on
  43. Watch Borgen in Danish with Dutch subtitles and totally get it
  44. Watch a Dutch film and actually laugh at the funny bits
  45. Watch a musical in Dutch and sing along - quietly
  46. Read a book you are not familiar with in Dutch and be able to follow the plot
  47. Listen to Dutch music
  48. See Dutch musicians in concert and sing along - quietly
  49. Meet inspirational people from all corners of the world, including from countries you barely knew the existence 
  50. Love the diversity of culture in your life
  51. Make Dutch friends
  52. Be brave and quite your job in the corporate world and start a career you are passionate about, one that makes your heart sing 
  53. Take a distance learning course in journalism
  54. Start a blog about expat life
  55. Write expat articles
  56. Write for Smitten by Britain
  57. Have an idea for a book
  58. Interview the first woman to reach the summit of Mount Everest from both the north and south sides
  59. Celebrate Queen's Night in The Hague
  60. Celebrate Queen's Day in Amsterdam
  61. Celebrate Sinterklaas
  62. Celebrate new year's eve in the Netherlands
  63. See a Chinese New Year celebration in The Hague
  64. Celebrate Bonfire Night in Amsterdam
  65. See the preparations made for a Nuclear Security Summit
  66. Stand two feet away from the Dutch Prime Minister
  67. Stand so close to a Dutch Crown Prince you could almost touch him, a risk not worth taking because of the inconspicuous security he has near him
  68. See behind the scenes at a Dutch hospital
  69. Get whisked away to hospital in a Dutch ambulance
  70. Go on natural ice - a frozen pond or canal
  71. Hang a birthday calendar in the smallest room of your house instead of writing birthdays out year after year
  72. Learn it is better to pay to use a clean toilet than to visit a dirty one for free
  73. Use a cheese slicer without losing a finger, or a part thereof
  74. Go to a Dutch birthday circle and survive to tell the tale
  75. Watch a football tournament with English and Dutch teams in the Amsterdam Arena 
  76. See a football team you care about make it to the World Cup Final
  77. Help out in a Dutch classroom for a morning and be proud that the children actually know what you are saying to them in Dutch
  78. See Bruce Springsteen in concert in Feyenoord's stadium


Expat Life with a Double Buggy


Wednesday, 9 April 2014

The Farewells That are Forever aka When Expat Life Sucks

As you read this I am back in Britain attending a funeral. It is one of the hardest aspects of expat life - being away from family and loved ones at times of sickness and bereavement. I'm lucky that I can be back in England within hours. I know many expats have it much tougher (like my brother in the US) when they need to be back in their passport country, the place that is still home to those we care so much about.  Words I wrote last week ring in my ears,

"Normal life continues at home or away with all its ups and downs. Moving overseas does not mean there is no more drama in your life, or that you can escape what happens back 'home'. Sometimes it can actually make problems worse as solving issues back in your home country is harder. Expat life is not an escape from life."

When something bad happens that makes me want to go back to my birth country, it is never a question of just jumping in a car and heading off. Not like it would be if I still lived in England. Life as an expat means it's not straightforward to be there for loved ones the moment you are needed. It takes time. It takes planning. Travel needs to be booked. Emergency funds are needed. Logistics take over.

On top of that loved ones back 'home' inevitably say things like,  "don't feel like you have to come back" or "no one is expecting you to fly over for the funeral" or stronger still, "don't come, there's nothing you can do anyway." They are genuinely trying to make life easier, take a decision out of your hands. But I know in my heart if I can be there then I will. Expected or not. Easy or not.

Because on one occasion I couldn't be there, and it haunts me still seven years later.

This time I've headed back alone. My children need normal life here in the Netherlands to carry on. They don't need to be at a funeral. That sentiment is not expat related, it's just a parenting choice. Last week, as a couple my husband and I needed to think ahead, to juggle, to scamper around in order to make it work so I could get a flight back to England, stay overnight in Wales and fly back to the Netherlands the following day.

Whilst I was making plans last week so I could be in Wales today it struck me that there will only be more of these moments in the future. None of us are getting any younger.

I have been back to England on one previous occasion for a funeral and that time too I flew back alone. The news was out of the blue. It came as a hard hitting punch. It was heartbreaking to be there at the graveside but I wanted to be there for my family, to show I cared, even though I had been no part of the pain they had been through in the months and weeks before the end. Being there without my husband and my own little family was tough but it was no tougher an experience than not being present at my gran's funeral seven years ago. The absence that haunts me still, seven years later.

My first son has just been born, I was an emotional wreck, he had no passport, I was breastfeeding waiting for my milk to come in properly. And then I learnt that my gran has passed away. I had seen her in hospital a few months prior to her death; she'd had a stroke. It broke my heart to see her so different to the grandmother she had been to me growing up. Whilst I held her hand as she sat in her hospital bed I knew it was a possibility that I would not see her again. But I hoped. And as the new year rolled in the news did seem to be getting more positive. There was a glimmer of light, a hope of at least a part recovery. But the light went out. And I couldn't be at her funeral. Logistics. Timing. Expat stuff.

So I know in my heart, if I can be there, I will. The alternative is harder to bear.

Sunday, 10 June 2012

A Strange Begin: Sleepless Nights and An Ambulance,

Photo: (c) The Writing Well
When my youngest son (our third) was born last October, the kraamweek (the week after the birth) didn't quite go as planned. We came back from the hospital on a Friday morning and our interim kraamzorg was stood at our front door to meet us. The first day home went as planned. Lots of rest, help, and time for my eldest two sons to meet their new brother.

The night however was a different story. Our new addition cried a lot at night. By that I mean unless he was being held upright he was crying. As soon as we laid him down his eyes sprung open and he began to scream. That meant, with labour and the birth included, I hadn't slept at all for three nights. I was a little tired to say the least.

Saturday night was a repeat of the night before. Four nights without sleep.

Then on Sunday morning I felt a little strange. It felt as if I was on the verge of slipping away into a dreamland, whilst lying in my kraambed. My kraamzorg (a trainee) came to bring me breakfast, was shocked by how I looked and flew back down the stairs to alert the experienced kraamzorg that all was not well upstairs. They both came charging back upstairs. I was conscious of everything that was going on around me but could not respond. No words came out, my head wouldn't move. My blood pressure was high and I had what I can best describe as the shakes. The kraamzorg called the midwife, who arrived quickly but then struggled to get an accurate blood pressure reading. Due to my unresponsiveness she called an ambulance, informing them not to come with sirens and lights.

A few minutes later I heard a siren getting louder and louder and my insides curdled. My eyes told those in the room that I was horrified with the arrival of an ambulance with "bells and tooters" blazing.

The next fifteen minutes were amongst the strangest of my life. Two ambulance personnel, a male and a female, began loading equipment on the bed. The room was a hive of activity with 2 maternity nurses, a midwife and my family milling around trying to help and get a grip on the situation.

After tests and questions the decision was made to take me to hospital in the ambulance, back to the maternity ward for checks. One of the ambulance crew said it seemed like I had gone in to shock. A birth and four nights with no sleep seemed a viable reason for this....

Somewhere amid the commotion I began to return to the land of the living and could communicate once more.

And so I made it downstairs with help from the ambulance personnel and my husband, and I was loaded on to a stretcher outside our house. Which is when I noticed that the arrival of the ambulance had attracted a sea of onlookers in the street and surrounding houses...... My husband took the baby in the car, as he would stay with me in the maternity ward to ensure that the breastfeeding could continue. My eldest sons stayed with kraamzorg until friends got there to look after them. It was chaotic, upsetting and stressful - for us all.

It was only the second time I had ever been in an ambulance. The first time was to accompany my brother when he had a serious asthma attack when we were out in Watford, England one night. It was certainly the first time I had ever been in a Dutch ambulance. By the time we were driving to the hospital I was compos mentis again, and well aware of the drama of the past half an hour, hour - who knows how much time had passed.

Photo: Pam Roth
Once we arrived at the ambulance entrance of the hospital we seemed to whizz through corridors, past a sea of faces waiting their turn in queues in various departments, until we arrived in the maternity ward. Familiar faces came to help me from the stretcher to a bed and started hooking me up to an array of machines.

Lots of tests ensued from a gynaecologist and a neurologist and I had a few more 'attacks' like I had had that morning. The result was that I had to stay overnight in the hospital. I was devastated - it wasn't how the kraamweek was supposed to be! The kraamweek following the births of my first two sons are etched on my mind as wonderful weeks, a treasure trove of precious moments. And this time I ended up separated from the rest of my family, my husband home worried sick looking after our eldest sons who didn't understand anything that had happened, and me unable to properly care for my newborn.

Aside from a near collapse (luckily a nurse was holding on to me) walking back from the bathroom, the night passed without incident and the next morning I was allowed to return home. Kraamzorg returned. The kraamweek recommenced. The rest of the week passed without incident, but the sleepless nights continued.  So we turned to an osteopath.

He diagnosed our little one as suffering from silent reflux. He was having a rough time of it, hence the sleepless nights. I'd like to say that we got referred to the paediatrician, given medicine and all was well but the reality is that we struggled at night for many months and have only really had peace at night during the last month.

We've come through the other end - and the most amazing thing about all this is that our youngest son is a smiley, giggly, happy little boy - despite the less than easy start in this world.

Photo: (c) The Writing Well



Monday, 21 May 2012

You Know You're An Expat Parent in the Netherlands When...

Being a parent abroad means facing situations that you probably wouldn't face if you had stayed in the country you were born in. Being an expat parent means adapting...... Here are twenty things that make me realise I'm a Brit parenting in the Netherlands.


  1. You actually consider a home birth as a viable option.
  2. You think you can give birth without the help of pain relief.
  3. The whole idea of a maternity nurse spending a week in your home directly after the birth of your child is inconceivable. You reluctantly commit to her coming a few hours a day (half of your entitlement) but make sure everyone knows you are giving in begrudgingly. When your second is born you sign up for your full entitlement and dream up elaborate ways to get more hours out of your maternity nurse.
  4. When the well-baby clinic recommends your child eats six slices of bread a day you involuntarily take in a sharp breath.
  5. Your three year old speaks Dutch better than you do. 
  6. Your five year old actually corrects you when you speak Dutch.
  7. You are floored by the way your toddler can roll their "r's" and say "Scheveningen".
  8. You're amazed because there is no complicated school enrolment system* for your children. You fill in an application form and the school informs you within a week or two if they have a space for your child or not. You can't believe it can be that simple.
  9. When your child starts school you have no idea how the school system works because it's not the same as the one you grew up in. 
  10. You cannot get to grips with the idea that eating in a pancake house is "going out for dinner" and still see those Dutch pancakes as eating dessert before the main meal.
  11. You stop calling your GP for every minor ailment your kids get because you know the answer will be "Take paracetamol and if he's not okay in three days come back."
  12. There is more paracetamol in your medicine cabinet at any one time than you would conceivably use in a year in your own country. What's more you have paracetamol for every possible age range and for every orifice and  - you're not afraid to use it.
  13. Your kids cycle better and more than you do.
  14. The phrase you use most whilst walking to and around the local playground is "Watch out for the dog poo. I said WATCH OUT! OK, you can clean that when we get home...."
  15. Your children eat sprinkles on bread for breakfast.
  16. Your child brings home a different friend book to fill in on a weekly basis. But of course your child cannot yet write so guess what you spend your weekends doing....
  17. You wouldn't dream of driving to school. Instead, you join the masses and walk or cycle with your child to school.
  18. You have an impressive array of attachments for your bike, including a bike trailer and child seats.
  19. You race to the nearest lake when the temperature drops so that your children can wear their ice skates.
  20. Your child has a tendency to find the idea of poo sandwiches hilarious. 
*except in Amsterdam.....
    11. You don't call the GP....
    Photo: Andrzej Gdula

    What have I missed? What makes you realise you are parenting abroad, which ever country you are parenting in?

Monday, 14 May 2012

Breast is Best - But Put It Away Please!

Breast is best but nearly half of Dutch people
would prefer not to see breastfeeding mothers
near them in public
Photo: Carin Araujo
There has been lots of press coverage in the Netherlands recently about breastfeeding: the lack of acceptance in public places for breastfeeding, the lack of facilities for breastfeeding mothers and so on. If you take a peek in pregnancy and birth forums the topic of how to discreetly breastfeed your baby in public generally comes up. Many women feel uncomfortable doing it outside the home (me included) but it remains a necessity for most unless you choose to become a hermit for months on end. After all, it is a generally accepted message that breastfeeding is the best, healthiest way to feed babies. So shouldn't it be encouraged as much as possible?

I speak from experience when I say that trying to find a warm, dry, quiet place to breastfeed is a challenge in itself - and that whilst a baby is screaming for a feed.... I have ended up in an office in a first aid hut at the Efteling, a changing room in Peek & Cloppenburg, a dark corner at a table in a pancake restaurant, a toilet cubicle and a far flung table in a restaurant in Blijdorp, a woody hill in a French theme park and the front seat of our car at a service station or side of the road more times than I care to mention. The concept of a place to breastfeed a baby seems lost on many places, even if they are geared especially to children......

The only place that springs to mind where breastfeeding mothers are well catered for is Euro Disney in Paris where there is a heated room set aside, with chairs, for those mothers who wish to feed their babies in relative calm and peace. I have noticed that my local H&M in Zoetermeer also has an area for feeding but I have never been inside (I think you have to go and ask for the key). But in general facilities are poor if you want to breastfeed your baby in public areas.

How are breastfeeding facilities where you live? Is breastfeeding in public encouraged or frowned upon?