Birthing Beautiful Ideas

I will be neither the first nor the last person to draw comparisons between birth and marathons.

And I will certainly not be the first nor last blogger to address this analogy.

Rixa Freeze at Stand and Deliver, for instance, offers a beautiful and inspiring metaphorical story documenting the physical, mental, and emotional preparation that the story’s character “Ann” undertakes before running a marathon.  It’s the sort of a preparation that leaves her proclaiming, ”I can do it. I am strong. I am ready” as she stretches before the race. 

Just the sorts of affirmations that any birthing woman should be able to say to herself before welcoming her child into the world.

And then the blogger at Raising My Boychick gives a compelling account of both the misogynistic implications of comparing birth to athletics and the potentially empowering implications this comparison could have if the needs and autonomy of birthing women were respected just as much as the needs and autonomy of certain athletes.

Just the sort of respect that birthing women deserve.

But despite the fact that both bloggers (and many others) have pursued the birth/marathon analogy with remarkable depth, critique, and insight, I would like to add my perspective–a doula’s perspective–to the multitude of analyses and musings on this issue.

Because after witnessing my husband complete his first marathon last week, and after watching hundreds of other people sometimes triumphantly, other times agonizingly, and always inspirationally cross the finish line, my “doula’s attention” was drawn immediately to birth–and not necessarily toward how the physical, mental, and emotional work of a marathon is comparable to labor (although I’m sure in many ways it is) but instead toward what good labor support can offer to birthing women.

In the hours after the race, Tim told me how at all the major mile markers–the half-marathon mark, the 18 mile mark, the 26 mile mark (before the last .2 miles) and so on–there were volunteers whose primary job was to cheer on the runners.  And this was even in addition to the loved ones and general public who were there to see their friends and family run.

They’d remind the runners of how far they’d already come.  They’d remind the runners of how far (or how little) they had to go.  They’d share feelings of pride and excitement and awe with, for the most part, complete strangers running past them.  People they neither knew nor would likely see again.

Of course, I’m sure some runners may have “tuned” out the cheers, either with iPods or with their own internalized focus and awareness–that is, the internal tools they used to accomplish their goal.  (Must like hypnobirthing, I might add!)

But I’m also pretty sure their encouragement carried some runners right through those last strenuous miles.

Tim experienced this particularly in those last few tenths of a mile, where the volunteers were strategically placed to exclaim, “The finish line is just right past that hill up there!  Just run over that hill, and you’ll be there!  You can do it!  We’re so proud of you!  Just keep going!”

It’s what I’ve said to a woman in the throes of transition.  Or at least it’s remarkably close to what I’ve said.  (Without the shouting, of course!)

The pride and awe and encouragement is what doulas and other labor support people all over the world offer to women as they give birth.

And as my eyes welled with tears–as I felt the deepest awe and respect not only for my husband and the runners there that day but also for every woman who has welcomed a child into the world, no matter how she has done it–I said:

“Every woman deserves that sort of support during labor.  I want every birthing woman to experience the sort of encouragement and awe and celebration that you and the other runners received today.”

Really.

We deserve it.

You deserve it.

Whether it’s from a partner or a midwife or a nurse or a friend or family member or, yes, a doula, all birthing woman deserve the encouragement and awe and excitement and celebration that I witnessed at that marathon.