I just arrived home tonight after attending another childbirth class reunion. Amongst my class offerings, I teach a seven week Lamaze series. Before class ends, the families and I plan a potluck class reunion to happen in one of their homes about four weeks after the final baby is due. They are well-attended, we get to meet all the babies and hear the birth stories from each family.

Tonight, as I said my good-byes, leaving first, I shared that I needed to head home and prepare tomorrow's blog (yes, I am a procrastinator!). They told me as I left, you can share about tonight. About what happened to all of us. About our experiences. "Maybe." I said, as I left, knowing that was very unlikely. Then I hopped in my car and drove home and could not stop thinking about their words and the stories I had heard tonight.

Half the families actually attended the reunion. The families who did not come had shared with me privately in advance that due to the situations of their birth and postpartum period, they were not in an emotional place to participate in the reunion. Of the families who came, the stories were all different, and yet strikingly similiar. These were families who were well-educated, well-read, well-prepared with excellent prenatal care. They were ready to be flexible, they had made intentional decisions about how they would like to birth their babies.

They all described their births or the postpartum care they received as traumatic. Several new parents (men and women) shared that they were recovering from a postpartum mood disorder and were receiving professional support. Parents reported feeling no connection with their babies for days and even weeks after birth. Other parents shared that they were surprised at how much rage and anger they were experiencing in the first weeks. Not one family present found the birth or transition to parenthood anything but extremely difficult and traumatic.

Families did not feel that people were kind to them. They did not feel that they were empowered or even trusted to make the best decisions for themselves and their babies. In some cases, they were steamrolled into changing their wishes and made to feel as if they did not care about outcomes. They were not provided accurate or truthful information about care options. Each familiy had medical charting errors that lead to pressure to accept unwanted interventions and tests, based on erroneous information that was difficult to correct, despite the families stating that their chart was wrong.

For almost 4 hours tonight, the stories were told. Both partners shared their experience and the air was heavy and thick with emotion and pain and grief. There was also joy and delight in the new lives that have joined their families but the journeys have been hard. The struggles are very real and some are still struggling. Partners who have gone back to work share the difficulties of finding a work life balance and recognizing how much they are missing being away from their babies and not experiencing the changes that seem to come so fast and so frequent.

All the families shared how helpful it was to be listened to and heard by the others in attendance. "At least you have a healthy baby." "It doesn't matter what happened during the birth, you are all okay now." As a rule, no one wants to really hear what it has been like for them, and they have stopped sharing their stories with others in fear of these hurtful but "well-meaning" comments. Until tonight.

Sometimes I wish I didn't do reunions. I am not great in social situations, and often find it difficult to attend them. Tonight, I sat in the corner of a couch, and looked into the eyes of each set of parents, as they shared their tales. I could only repeat, "I am so sorry." "I hear you." "I am sorry you were treated that way." I used my best reflective listening skills. Inside, I felt anger and sadness. I wondered what I could have done differently during class to leave families more prepared to navigate the labor, birth and postpartum experience. Am I doing enough? Could I do more? Can I include a different activity that prepares them better? How do I strike a balance to offer them what they need from me as they prepare to birth? How could everyone in this class have come out of their births battered and shocked?

I watched as they rocked and soothed and fed their new babies, doing the best they can, picking up the pieces, finding their way. I saw the gentle touches between partners, when the stories were at their most difficult point. Through their stories, I reaffirmed to myself what I have always known - that births happen to a family, to the birthing person and to the partner, and to the baby. And it matters.

Hearing information and stories like I heard tonight is hard. It settles deep inside me, and hurts my heart. I don't want any family to start off their life with a new baby needing to heal from the experience such as these families needed to do. We all must double down on our efforts to treat every family with respect, kindness and compassion. Every single one of us! We must provide evidence based care and information. We must respect (at every point in the journey) the choices that families make, even if they are different than those we would make for our own family. So that one day, stories like these are a thing of the past. Every family deserves that. And by doing so, we create families ready to start off their new lives confident and strong. After all, today's babies are our future.

So, today's blog is not a research review or a teaching idea. but rather a plea, to all of us, to do the best we can, each and every day, with every family we meet, because it really matters. Thank you.

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