2024-04-05 15:00:07
This post is taken from the weekly newsletter “Darons Daronnes” on parenting, sent every Wednesday at 6 p.m. To receive it, you can register for free here.
Birth in a delivery room at Saint-Pierre hospital, in Brussels, in October 2023. Image taken from the “Take Care” project, a photographic documentary on Brussels public hospitals. MARIN DRIGUEZ/AGENCY VU’
Have you ever discovered, transcribed in black and white in a book, an emotion so intimate that you thought you were the only one in the world to have felt it? This is what I experienced while reading, in the collection Being a mother (The Iconoclast, 176 pages, 18 euros, in bookstores since April 4), the short text by the writer Camille Anseaume. For this book, author Julia Kerninon asked six sisters to share stories about motherhood. Camille Anseaume talks about her stays in hospital to give birth in these terms: “The maternity ward – the place, not the state – is my favorite vacation spot. I see my stays in the maternity ward as trips; when packing my bag I have to refrain from putting sunscreen and crosswords in it. »
She then adds, thinking about the fact that she will no longer have children: “Never again hot chocolates for breakfast, never again meals in bed, never again animal documentaries. Never again will my boyfriend sleep on a mattress at my feet. Never again the delight of a lukewarm and tasteless puree after hours without eating, nor the alarm bell which gives an answer to all my anxieties. Never again the smell of Clarins energizing water in a dark room, at dawn, after a shower, the first since giving birth. »
Just copying these few lines brings tears to my eyes. I could add to this inventory my own list of hospital fetishes: the feeling of the AP-HP’s rough sheets; the corridor, at night, my bare feet on the linoleum, with my screaming younger daughter in my arms; the shriveled photocopy of a handwritten chart on which to record the baby’s feedings, urine and stools; the newborn’s wheeled bucket bed; visits at fixed times by nurses and midwives. I even took a photo of my entire hospital room after my third birth, including the shower and sink, so I wouldn’t forget.
Like a giant uterus
Perhaps there is nothing rare about this enchanted memory. Maybe it’s even banal. But I had never heard it said by anyone. For what ? No doubt so as not to hurt those who experienced it differently. In France, 11.7% of women have bad memories of their childbirth, according to the 2021 perinatal survey by the National Institute of Health and Medical Research (Inserm). I obviously appreciate my share of luck: my three births went well, my three babies were in good health. But from this experience of my own, I would like to take the opportunity to say something that is close to my heart: motherhood can be a cocoon. A place of care, attention, gentleness. Like an extension of the pregnancy, a giant uterus (equipped with a café that sells newspapers) and protector which prepares for the exit, the real one. I know that I am not the only one, far from it: according to the Inserm survey, 89.9% of women would recommend their birthplace to a loved one, and 91.6% consider that they have been well accompanied by professionals during their stay.
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