By Lia Spencer
Delivery rooms aren’t pretty.
When a full-term pregnant woman checks into the hospital, her dignity checks out. Clothes come off, a game-face comes on and words are said which would make kids cry and the devil blush.
After the swearing, the moaning, the pushing, and ultimately the arrival of the baby, motherhood brings a whole new wave of emotions. So why would any expectant woman in her right frame of mind invite relatives and friends into the delivery room to witness all the blood, sweat and tears? That’s the question I kept asking myself when I invited my sister-in-law Melanie, a photographer by trade, to capture the birth of my second baby in May.
I’ve always had a keen interest in birth stories as each one is so different yet equally amazing. I am in awe of what women’s bodies are capable of – from how they grow, to the pain they bear, to the child they produce. Yet when many women discuss their labours they often talk about how long it was, how painful it was and all the other dirty, nitty-gritty details. They often overlook the power and beauty of it all.
I trusted Mel could capture the positives of childbirth through her craft. Not only is she a brilliant photographer, but she has a unique ability to tell a story through image and video. She’s also down-to-earth, open-minded, has a heart of gold and she was someone I trusted wholeheartedly to be in the room with me at such a vulnerable time.
On 9 May I went into the hospital to be induced. At 2am, 10 hours after I was given the first lot of gels, I began having contractions. I called Mel to the hospital, but unfortunately when she arrived the contractions stopped. Mel sat patiently in the room and watched television while my husband Michael and I went back to sleep.
At 8am the obstetrician broke my waters and the contractions began again. At first, I adjusted my long tunic to cover my body as I walked around the room, moved into comfortable positions on the bed, or waddled to the toilet to pee. But as the labour progressed, and the pain worsened, I forgot Mel was in the room and was wholly invested in the labour. I concentrated on what I had to do to delivery my baby quickly and safely.
Mel retreated to the back corner of the delivery room but was still able to take photos and video while Michael and the midwife stayed by my side. At one point, when Michael was trying to do several things at once, Mel replaced her ‘photographer hat’ with her ‘sister hat’ and helped him rub my back, put cool towels on my head and offer words of encouragement.
At 1.45pm I gave birth to Louis Michael Spencer. My eyes were closed as my husband shouted with surprise, ‘It’s a boy.’ I felt as though I had just finished a marathon. My head was in a fog as the midwife laid my son on my chest. At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. I was blessed with two children. I immediately swore to myself that I wouldn’t put myself through that pain again. I also vowed to never look at the photographs or video Mel took of the labour. So, I cringed when Mel sent a link to the photographs and video the next day.
It was too soon, too raw. I had cried, swore, vomited, among other things in that delivery room and there was no need to watch myself in that state. But Michael had a sneak peak and persuaded me to watch it with him. He promised it was tasteful and felt I would appreciate it. With one eye shut, I agreed. Within moments, both eyes were glue on the screen.
Mel had managed to condense a six-hour labour into a five-minute video. Tears streamed down my face as I viewed the labour from another perspective. She had cut out all yucky details and compromising angles to create a video which so beautifully articulated the love between Michael and I and our children.
I watched a patient man hold my hand and run his hands over my forehead and through my hair, desperate to take the pain away from me. I saw the professionalism of the hospital staff, who coached me through the last chaotic moments. I saw the care and support of our family who visited shortly after and congratulated us through skype. And, above all, I got to see the incredibly precious moment Michael and met our son Louis. A moment which would have only been felt and heard until Mel captured it on video.
Like the birth of my daughter Isla, the birth of Louis will forever be etched in my mind. It will be a memory which I hope will never fade, but thanks to Mel, it will be a treasured moment I can watch at any time and share with my loved ones. I will never be able to thank Mel for the gift she has given me. And if I never see the images from the birth that made the cutting room floor, I MAY even consider having just one more baby … watch this space!
