Crows of Fecundity

The morbid indulgence of telling pregnant women horror stories

In Greek mythology, the crow or raven is known to be a bearer of bad news. Their reputation comes as a result of their relationship with Apollo, the god of prophecy. Apollo used white ravens as messengers, and when one came back with news of the infidelity of his lover, Coronis, Apollo burned the bird’s feathers black in a fit of rage. Hence, the black raven became known as a symbol of bad luck. Their ecological place is one that lies between the living and dead, as they are a carrion bird, which likely lends to this reputation.

A Crow, Anonymous, Italian, 17th century. From The Met’s Open Access

While the ecological role of the corvid is an important one and no fault of his own, the mythology they represent is a useful one. I do not know if the crow who delivered that sorrowful message to Apollo secretly delighted in their role as bringer of anguish, but I do suspect that some people do actually find some delight in their own similar roles. People who exhibit a corvid-like penchant for bad-omen-tale-telling seem to be drawn to women gestating children. Perhaps it is our vulnerability, perhaps it is their need to be perceived a certain way surrounding the topic of birth—caring, important, God-like, concerned, more intelligent than thou—perhaps it is just a nervous tic, the kind like the inappropriate laughter that spills out of you when another person is injured.

A discomfort with the pregnant woman and what we represent, the liminal place between life and death, seems to be a motivator for these crows of fecundity, the sort of person (typically a fellow woman) who simply must tell you the worst thing she has ever heard or experienced about birth or postpartum or infants while you stand in front of her, belly gravid, heart open. There is an uneasiness we seem to inspire in others. We are fragile, teetering on the edge of something massive and dangerous and impressive, we are the walking physical embodiment of sexuality taken to its full extent and purpose—for all of these reasons, the image of the pregnant woman is confronting.

To be clear, I think for any woman who is faced with pregnancy and who wishes to be fully cognizant of her situation and the potential outcomes of that situation and her choices surrounding all of this needs to be aware. Aware of complications, aware of her own role in the management of such, aware of her options, aware of what can go wrong, and what can go right. I think self-education via books and the like, speaking to trusted and experienced female friends and family, collaborative discussions with whatever sort of practitioner one chooses, and a combination of prayer and quiet time connecting with our babies are the ways to access this awareness. Awareness around birth can be a combination of formal learning via trusted expert sources, intuitive inklings and faith, and the careful and empathetic yet honest storytelling of other women.

This is why I believe informed consent isn’t adequate. Without the other pieces mentioned above, the proper context and a completely sound mind, informed consent can be found shallow and lacking. I find it interesting that many women like myself who don’t subscribe to the “consent is all that matters” narrative around sexual activities, women who reject choice feminism and the idea that choice is the highest good, will ramble on about informed consent as the highest good around medical decisions.

We have to consider the environment in which these discussions are had. Both the immediate medical setting (or even non-medical, if at home) and the wider, more complex surrounding cultural environment are impactful on what comes of these conversations and the consent that is given as a result of them. Just like there can be both outright and situational coercion in the obtaining of sexual consent, there too can be the same for the obtaining of medical consent. Desperation leads us to say yes to a great many things, and just because there was a rudimentary discussion of risk beforehand doesn’t change this.

Instead of informed consent, we need holistically educated and emotionally sound collaborative decision making—especially when it comes to the care of pregnant women, women who are seeking care for something that is generally a normal life event. Collaborative doesn’t mean asking “does that make sense?” at the end of the same spiel a provider gives to every patient either. True collaborative effort on the part of a provider should leave a woman feeling dignified and fully involved, not pacified and detached.

What with-child women do not need are stories of horror. There will unfortunately always be truly emergent situations where true informed consent is nearly impossible to obtain and these situations are the ones that people seem to feel the need to share with pregnant women. It’s not that I don’t believe women are strong or resilient enough to withstand the transmission of upsetting stories. It’s that I believe that risk can be communicated without appealing to fear and anxiety. I believe risk can be communicated with balance and tact. Whether it is the fact that some of the emergent situations we see in the hospital setting are sometimes caused by the protocols of that setting or if it is the fact that we have meager quality research on the safety of planned home birth, all stories involving risk in birth need to be considered in the context of these truths. Anecdotal stories get presented as ultimate authority on these topics and as such, a lot of fully-formed and clear perspective is lost.

The inherent vulnerability of the pregnant woman, especially the woman nearing her time to birth, needs to be considered as well. There is a window open for impressionability in this time, no matter her confidence or personal faith. Fear is powerful. It shouldn’t be ignored but it also shouldn’t be purposefully provoked. Still, some individuals seem to be programmed for provocation around the vast topic of pregnancy.

I personally have a good amount of faith in the process of birth. I am coming up on the birth of my fourth baby, I have attended births as a nurse and a friend, and I have a realistic grip on the risk involved in birth. And yet. And yet…my faithfulness and confidence can be shaken, for I am only human. Not only this, but I am very much enveloped by my own innate vulnerability in this moment. I am acutely aware of it.

There was a tragic situation involving birth at my place of work recently. There was, of course, much discussion of this situation. In the midst of the discussion, my upcoming birth and my intentions/plans for it was brought up. And so, in the midst of the discourse surrounding a truly worst case scenario situation, the fate of myself and my baby were called into question. By a physician.

*What follows below the paywall is a story that is very personal and also involves my place of work. I very, very rarely paywall my writing but did feel the extra layer of “protection” here was necessary for my storytelling. Thank you all for your understanding.