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Something has happened to Swedish maternity care
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COLUMNSTER
One feeling that comes over me every time I read about maternity care is this: I am incredibly grateful that I never have to do it again.
That is a great relief; the knowledge of never having to expose yourself that way again. And then I’ve almost only had uncomplicated deliveries. A thousand and a thousand illnesses and accidents may affect me before I end up in this world, but if everything goes according to plan, I will never have to give birth to a child again. It’s a relief and I’m a bit embarrassed; Not everyone can afford to be prepared in the birthing industry. I still managed pretty well, is this how we who are finished should think now? Are we right?
It’s really so stupid, because I have enjoyed giving birth to children. It’s hardly the feeling of a warm, slippery baby on my chest that I want to avoid, the feeling of having a new person and now you’re going to live in my house. Crippling anxiety, thoughts of disaster, and heavy responsibility for something to go wrong during labor, these are the pieces I’ll never save again.
Young girls say that pain scares them, to break, to defecate on themselves. Those three painful elements that later do not have as much meaning as you thought.
Photo: Emil Langvad / TT
“Something has happened to Swedish maternity care,” writes Malin Wollin.
When I gave birth to our second child, I did it in Mölndal hospital because the delivery started in Gamla Ullevi.
“Why are you coming here, there have been so many horrible things about us in the newspaper?” Said the midwife who was fifty years old, very from Gothenburg and absolutely wonderful.
That comment seems scary in the text, but I thought it was welcoming. Welcome to chaos!
Everything went well, with my legs spread I was taken home to Kalmar in a hasty rented car.
Imagine how cute all the mishaps, accidents, and shocks get when it all works out in the end.
Think how transformative and life-destroying they become when they end in disaster.
It takes so little for you as a woman giving birth to question everything around you, a comment that you do not understand, a wink from one cane to another (I see in his face that I have a man with two heads!)
And that is precisely why midwives are the occupational group that needs the most reassurance, but seems to get the least.
When I was young and pregnant, I remember all the strange nightmares that I was occupied with at night. It was seldom a matter of fading heart sounds or staff stress and anguish. The dreams were almost exclusively of giving birth to some kind of animal, often a cat. I didn’t understand anything, is this my baby? Next to the bed was the man, wondering with which neighbor cat he had committed adultery.
Something has happened to Swedish maternity care, although I can only reproduce it in an anecdotal and purely fragmentary way. When I gave birth to my children nearly nineteen years ago, there was no talk of tossing out multiple menstrual pads or sandwich trays.
From 2002 to 2017, I remember the action packs and how I gave birth to my children through them.
We must dare to believe and hope and vote for better and safer times.
Women must give birth again and simply be afraid of cracking or defecating.
Once again, the nightmare should be that you give birth to an illegitimate kitten.
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