Obstetrical Violence
By: Kate Wand
Tags: Public Health, Newborn, Obstetrical Violence, Maternity, Covid-19

Obstetrical Violence

Open Letter to Health Units, Politicians, Policy Makers & Medical Practitioners in Regards to the Institutionalized Abuses of Pregnant Women and Newborns in the Name of Covid-19

Pregnancy, childbearing and labour are transformative passages in the life of a woman, and her newborn. Every human life, and the moment of its birth, is sacred. The process from conception to childbirth should be treated with the dignity and care it merits, putting the physical, mental, and emotional health of the mother and her infant as the top priority.

In regards to public health policy concerning maternity and labour during Covid-19, it has been heavily critiqued for the failure of its policies to deliver.

The Oxford academic article Going solo: the law and ethics of childbirth during the COVID-19 pandemic, states that “the spread of the novel coronavirus put a strain on another aspect of women’s reproductive lives: childbirth.” It goes onto explore “the ethical and legal issues raised by hospital visitation rules that require women to give birth alone.”{1}

It also cites the protections put in place in 2007 in Venezuela to prevent ‘obstetric violence’.

“The term ‘obstetric violence’ is defined as ‘…the appropriation of the body and reproductive processes of women by health personnel, which is expressed as dehumanized treatment, an abuse of medication, and to convert the natural processes into pathological ones, bringing with it loss of autonomy and the ability to decide freely about their bodies and sexuality, negatively impacting the quality of life of women’.”

It is easy to make the case that obstetric violence, including dehumanized treatment, the conversion of natural processes into pathological ones, and loss of autonomy in maternal decision making has been the standard during the coronavirus pandemic.

A woman victimized by Andrew Cuomo’s NYC ban of any support members during labour, which gained so much backlash that it was expelled within four days, details her traumatic experience of giving birth alone.{2}

She received a phone call informing her of the new policy:

“My mind racing, I took a deep breath and tried to hold onto logic and practicalities. This meant nobody else could accompany women in labour – no partners, no doulas, no grandmas-to-be. I asked if my husband would be allowed in the hospital to fill out the paperwork and carry my heavy hospital bag, or if I’d have to do that alone. She said he wouldn’t even be allowed in the building. He would have to drop me off at the curb.

“I hung up the phone, my husband hugged me, and we both cried. He would miss the birth of our second child – our baby girl.”

Upon entering the hospital:

“Thirty minutes later, I had been hand-sanitized and masked and questioned and set up in a delivery room. I sent my husband a photo of me smiling behind the mask, and one of the small clear plastic bassinet that would soon hold our daughter.”

Through her contractions:

“I FaceTimed my husband and managed to prop the phone against one of my bags so he could see the side of my face. He talked me through the contractions as they became stronger and longer. The nurse let me take the mask off through the worst contractions, and my husband reminded me to breathe.”

Through labour:

“It was time to push. There was an urgency in her voice. I was fully dilated, and I felt nauseated from lack of sleep (and lack of food, and lack of calm, and lack of partner). It was just after 2 a.m., and I knew I was going to vomit. I tore off the mask and threw up – violently. Then I realized I could no longer hear the baby’s heartbeat through the monitor. The nurses quickly adjusted me. Nothing. They adjusted again, and still nothing, and again, and still nothing. They rolled me over, and I wondered how I would tell my husband our baby girl was gone. Finally, after a frantic minute of adjusting me and the monitors, they found her heartbeat – it had slowed significantly when I vomited, but it was still there. Still steady. I grappled clumsily for my phone, called my husband on FaceTime at 2:16 a.m., and at 2:18 my doctor told me to push – now!”

To cutting the umbilical cord herself:

“At 2:19 I was holding my baby girl. I cut the cord myself, with her resting on my chest, and held the phone so my husband could see her. She cried and I cried, and the doctor assured me that she was OK.

“The next day in the hospital was a bit of a blur. Trying not to feel bitter or lonely, I returned to my mantras: My son was happy. My daughter was safe.”

I wonder if any of the policy makers or enforcers of these policies would accept these conditions themselves. I wonder if Christine Elliot would have considered this a healthy birth experience if she had been at the mercy of her own abusive policies, or if Andrew Cuomo would have obeyed his own orders.