“Mummy, my baby is about to be born!” he cries, as my 4-year-old son, Henry, rushes excitedly into the room, both hands cradling his bulging t-shirt. As he confidently delivers his baby, reaching down and lifting the doll to his chest, he hushes gently. He continues to tell me how he is waiting for her umbilical cord (the pacifier clip) to stop pulsating and for his placenta to be born. I tentatively smile and slip out of the room with a reassuring nod as I leave them to indulge in their ‘Golden Hour’ together. Afterall, everyone knows not to interfere with a mother and her oxytocin, right?
A warming sense of comfort and reassurance hugged my soul as I watched this new generation of pro-normal birth flourish right in front of me. In his game of pretend Henry was very consciously rehearsing giving birth as something to be proud of and to get excited about. There was no fear, no screaming or drama, a refreshing contrast to the perception most adults, let alone children, would generally hold around their expectations of labour and childbirth.
As a parent I have always felt strongly about building trust and maintaining honesty with my children, satisfying their forever curious minds with age-appropriate answers to their questions. As a doula and childbirth educator, also, there have naturally been questions around my job that perhaps wouldn’t normally enter the mind of a pre-schooler. Henry would often look through my ante-natal teaching kit, complete with crocheted breasts, a model pelvis and a baked bean can, and understandably had lots of questions.
We started introducing sex/birth education to Henry from around the age of 3 whilst I was pregnant with our second child. Even the very notion of this is enough to make most parents recoil and cringe at the very thought of it, but to us it felt very natural and the right thing to do. Appreciating that I would be giving birth at home within the next few months I wanted him to feel prepared for what was to come, to not be frightened and have plenty of opportunity to ask any questions he had in a safe and loving space.
We started slowly to test the water and gain an appreciation as to what he might be expecting for the upcoming birth. He surprised us with his understanding and maturity, so the conversations naturally continued. As Henry very much enjoys learning about animals, we thought this would be a fun place to start with him. We began by talking about baby chicks and how they hatch from an egg. This seemed particularly appropriate as it was around Easter time when we started these more in-depth conversations. We then progressed to talking about mammals and how they are born, rather than hatching from an egg, followed by watching videos of the different ways in which animals can be born.
We sensitively answered his questions in the most honest and factual, but still child-friendly, way we could. I then screened some homebirth videos which, I felt, presented enough of what could be expected at a birth similarly planned to my own, without too much up-close and in-depth detail. We watched the videos with the sound on mute at first and asked how he felt about what he saw. When the sound was on, I explained the purpose of these noises the mother was making and what is happening in her body. He seemed to be totally unfazed by birth, I found this fascinating. Could this mean that the earlier we normalise birth as an ordinary and essential part of life, could we also reduce the number of traumatic births experienced as an adult? Is introducing traditional sex and birth education in the teenage years enough or by then is it already too late?
By the time I was ready to give birth in the summertime I believe Henry was now confident as to what to expect. In the event of him waking up or me labouring/ birthing during the day, he understood there would likely be a pool in the living room, mummy might be making some noises and she will need to concentrate. He also knew that when a baby has just been born, they are wet, maybe a bit purple looking and have mucous and/or vernix on them. He was reassured that this would all be very normal and natural. The last thing I wanted was for him to expect to see a freshly dressed pink-faced baby, like his doll, in my arms when the reality would likely be very different. Again, he seemed ok with everything we had spoken about, and this put our minds at ease.
It made me realise how much we perhaps underestimate our children and their natural curiosity for the world around them. Given the time, patience, and opportunity to truly explore their surroundings they can comprehend more than we often give them credit for. When the time came, my labour during the early hours of a warm summers’ morning was powerful yet peaceful. Henry slept through the entire thing, only then to awake and find his baby sister had joined us earth side, sleepily awaiting a cuddle from him.
Valuable Life Lessons
Now expecting baby number 3, and Henry’s childbirth knowledge growing, he tentatively strokes my tummy and tells me how excited he is to meet the new baby. Although he wasn’t there to witness the birth of his sister last time, having slept soundly throughout the entire thing, I’m trusting that if he is meant to be awake and present at this next birth then he will be. I believe this is truly one of the most valuable life lessons we will ever be able to teach him, that childbirth is an extraordinary ordinary experience, and a privilege to witness.
We understand this approach may not feel right for everyone but for us, knowing our son and his curiosity for the world around him, we trust that having this knowledge, regardless of his age, can only be a positive thing. We will continue to show him that birth is a natural and instinctive life event, something that is awe inspiring and beautiful. Our gift to him is a true understanding of what childbirth can be like and, hopefully, encourage a wholehearted appreciation for birth and the incredible female body.
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