Halving the stillbirth rate by 2025: ambitious, but doable

Some good news: parents of babies who are stillborn, or have suffered a severe brain injury, will be offered the option of an independent review of their care. Currently reviews are carried out, to a varying standard, by individual hospitals. Health secretary Jeremy Hunt is to announce that a new Healthcare Safety Investigation Branch (HSIB) will, from next April, take over investigation of the 1,000 deaths of new babies and mothers and unexplained serious injuries.

This will, it is hoped, achieve two things: one is to have a greater culture of openness, with a quick resolution after a terrible mistake. This is important because currently some hospitals lie and obfuscate about their role in a baby’s death or injury – the Joshua Titcombe case was a particularly egregious example, but the urge to cover up is widespread. More significantly, the existence of an independent review body could, Jeremy Hunt hopes, halve the numbers of stillbirths, neonatal deaths and severe birth-related brain injuries by 2025.

Hunt’s announcement comes the day after the publication of a MBRRACE report, which revealed that the rate of intrapartum death had halved since 1993. Back then, there were 0.62 deaths for every 1,000 births; now that figure is down to 0.28. This is particularly worth celebrating because during that time, the age of women giving birth has been rising, and more women have conditions relating to being overweight. Both of those factors increase the risk of stillbirth.

(“Intrapartum death” refers to deaths of “normally formed babies of 2.5 kg or more who were stillborn or died within the first week of life where the death was related to problems during labour”. This isn’t the same as stillbirths in general: the overall stillbirth rate has dropped by just over a fifth, and neonatal death by a third, in the same time frame.)

Most intrapartum deaths could be prevented by better care

But it was shocking to read that, of the 78 deaths the MBRRACE team looked at, 80% could have been prevented by better care in labour. The biggest single cause was an issue with capacity – in other words, not having enough staff. We’ve known for some time that the NHS doesn’t have enough midwives and obstetricians, and that the government needs to address this immediately.

Other important findings included a delay in inducing babies who were due to be induced, staff failing to recognise that a woman had moved to the second stage of labour, a lack of urgency in offering a caesarean section when needed, and a failure to monitor the baby’s heartrate correctly.

We know, from women’s own stories, and from NHS litigation records, that these are complaints that come up time and time again. An inability to read the CTG trace that monitors the heartrate appears frequently in litigation. But this – along with the ability to identify the change to second stage labour – could be improved with better training. Even more importantly, it could be improved by an independent review of what went wrong.

No-one is perfect; everyone makes mistakes. But when the same mistake is repeatedly leading to babies dying, then something is wrong. Reviewing the deaths of babies, and identifying the causes, can lead to better training and better practice. The launch of the HSIB offers real hope that we can bring about an end to babies dying unnecessarily in labour.

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Michel Odent Speaks Out About Caesareans

Michel Odent, the man who, in the words of the Guardian, “encouraged women to experience pain-free labour in warm pools of water and was the first to write about the importance of placing newborn babies to the breast” has now warned about the dangers to the human race of the rise in caesarean sections.

In a new book called The Birth of Homo, The Marine Chimpanzee, Odent argues that modern medicalised births are working against evolution. Caesarean-born babies are more likely, for example, to be autistic. From the Guardian article:

“One effect of modern obstetrics is to neutralise the laws of natural selection – the laws that foiled us all [in the past]. We have neutralised those laws. It means that at the beginning of the 20th century, a woman who could not give birth naturally would die, whereas the one in the village who could give birth easily would have 12 children. Today, the number of children one has depends on other factors than the physical capacity to give birth.

“I mainly talk about obstetrics, but we can also talk about conception. If you cannot have a child, you can have medicalised conception. So we have neutralised the laws of natural selection. It is one of the biggest problems for humanity today and people don’t realise that. Any mathematician, any statistician interested in this topic will find ways to calculate what will happen – in my book I give several examples.”

“One of the biggest problems for humanity today”? That’s a pretty big claim – particularly if you think about global warming, pollution and the decline in the bee population. And those are just the environmental problems – don’t let’s forget the rise in antibiotic resistance and the imminent threat of nuclear war.

Evolution is brutal

So is Odent right to identify modern methods of childbirth and conception as a problem? Well, in a sense, yes. A hundred or so years ago, as he points out, a woman who could not give birth naturally would die. These days, a woman who can’t give birth naturally survives, thanks to surgical intervention.

Any normal person would surely see this as a cause for rejoicing. You could argue, as Odent does, that as a result of caesareans and other interventions, we’re breeding a race of humans who are ill-equipped for survival: women who have pelvises too narrow for a baby to pass through will give birth to daughters with similarly narrow pelvises. And so on. But it’s difficult to see why this is a problem. Modern medicine is saving lots of people who would otherwise have died: premature babies, babies with disabilities, children with diseases such as measles and meningitis. Vaccines for diseases such as polio and diphtheria mean that children who would previously have been too weak to survive those diseases are now never exposed to them in the first place. Unless we abandon using modern medicine altogether, then we simply have to accept that the laws of natural selection are well and truly “neutralised”.

When he argues that caesarean sections result in more autistic children, then he is, as the Guardian points out, confusing correlation and causation. The paper quotes autism specialist Paul Wang:

“A foetus with developmental issues may have low muscle tone that can interfere with moving into proper position for natural delivery. In this and other ways, the foetus plays a crucial role in initiating and advancing natural labour.”

Don’t worry your pretty little heads about science

But suppose he’s right? Suppose caesarean sections were causing more children to be born with autism? What could we possibly do? Stop performing caesareans and allow babies and their mothers to die?

Obviously not. It’s difficult to see how the argument achieves anything other than to make pregnant women, bombarded with advice from all sides, even more worried than they already are. Odent is quoted as saying: “I put a caveat in my books – they are not for pregnant women. I tell them not to read them. They are books for people who are interested in the future of human beings – preferably ones with a scientific background, people interested in thinking in terms of the future and the future of the species. That’s the public I want to reach.”

In Odent’s mental Venn diagram, there is clearly no overlap between women who are scientists and women who are pregnant.

Pregnancy sickness is good, apparently

But Odent has form for this. While acknowledging that women used to die in childbirth before modern medicine, he accuses modern doctors of terrifying women through the use of medical terminology. In a 2013 interview with the Telegraph, he apparently “uses the example of dramatizing healthy morning sickness that indicates a thriving foetus into the much more serious condition of ‘Hyperemesis Gravidarum.’”

This sounds plausible until you meet a woman who has suffered hyperemesis to the extent where she is vomiting 24 hours a day, and cannot keep down anything, even a sip of water. Women die from untreated hyperemesis.

In the same article, Odent attacks the use of synthetic oxytocin which also, he argues (but with very little evidence), correlates with a rise in autism. (Autism has clearly become Odent’s thing.)

Odent wants us to believe he is motivated by genuine scientific curiosity. But in identifying intervention in childbirth, rather than, say, antibiotics or vaccines, as a threat to natural selection, we can see a more sinister agenda at work – a desire to turn the clock back to a time before modern medicine. Though only, of course, for women.

 

If we really want to help women with birth trauma, we need to learn to listen

One of the things that practically everyone involved with mental health seems to agree on is that we need to talk more. People bottle their problems up, which makes everything worse, and sometimes leads to depression and suicide. If only we talked more about our feelings, everything would be much better.

This truism is trotted out time and time again. It’s rare, however, for someone to make the simple point that talking is only of any value if someone is listening. Yet that, in my experience, is where the real problem lies.

“Listening” doesn’t, of course, just mean listening. Real listening is hard work: it means paying attention to what the other person is saying, trying to understand their point of view, not telling them about your similar experience or suggesting they cheer up or offering advice about what they should do.

Women who have experienced postnatal PTSD come up against this problem all the time. A characteristic of PTSD is the urge to talk about the traumatic experience continually, to try to make sense of it. This isn’t surprising, as PTSD sufferers often find themselves reliving the trauma: it doesn’t feel like something that happened in the past, but that is always present.

Yet when they talk to their partners, their family or even to health professionals, they come up against the same response over and over again:

“You’ve got a healthy baby – focus on that instead.”

“The health professionals were only doing their best for you.”

“Other women have had babies and don’t make this amount of fuss.”

“It’s time to move on and put it all behind you.”

None of this is helpful, because it minimises the experience and also makes the woman feel as if she’s being unreasonable. It’s also useless, because PTSD is not something anyone has control over – no-one chooses to experience flashbacks, or to be constantly anxious, or to feel terror every time they walk past the place they experienced the trauma (usually a hospital, for women with postnatal PTSD). PTSD causes real, physical changes in the brain – they don’t disappear by force of will.

The reason why the blogpost “I had a shit birth. Here’s six reasons why I really want others to know” went viral is that the writer accurately captured this need to have people actually stop and listen, without judgement. As the blog’s author says: “Silencing anyone who has lived through trauma is not okay.”

Her follow-up post, How to avoid birth trauma, by expert commenters of the interweb, after her story was featured in national news sites, nicely captures that failure to listen, from people on the internet who have never experienced trauma and have no clinical or academic expertise in the subject, but nonetheless have a view on how other people should deal with it.

One last thing. During Awareness Week, the Birth Trauma Association was inundated by emails from women desperate to tell their story. Reading those stories shows that the listening problem starts well before the trauma: story after story relates how women told medical professionals there was something wrong, or that they were in severe pain or distress, only to be told that everything was normal. There are even stories of women who knew they were ready to push being told that they weren’t ready to push. In one extraordinary account, a woman describes how, post-birth, her extreme pain was dismissed by doctors and midwives alike, until a healthcare assistant spotted her racing heart – the first sign of septic shock – and called for help, thus saving her life. Even allowing for understaffing, this seems negligent.

Yes, it’s good to talk. But it’s even better to listen.

Breaking the silence – why we need birth trauma awareness week

Next week – August 14 to 18 – is birth trauma awareness week. It has two main aims. One is to make more people aware of what birth trauma is and how it affects women (and their families) who experience it.

The other aim is to raise money so that the Birth Trauma Association can start extending its services to women by offering peer support by phone and face-to-face.

If you’re interested in helping, there are a few things you can do:

  • Tweet links to women’s birth stories using the hashtag #BreakTheSilence
  • Hold a fundraising event – you can download a fundraising pack for ideas
  • Follow the Birth Trauma Association on Twitter
  • Change your social media profile pic to include the Birth Trauma Association logo
  • Register with Thunderclap to post a message about birth trauma awareness on your timeline at 5pm on Monday 14th – the more people who register, the more impact the message will have

It’s long been clear that there’s a huge unmet need for support services for women suffering from birth trauma. Although it’s hard to know the exact number, the current best guess is that 20,000 women every year suffer from postnatal PTSD in the UK (3% of the total number of women giving birth).

One of the reasons the condition is little known about is because women don’t speak about it. And the reason they don’t speak about it is that people don’t listen. Women are used to hearing the dismissive phrase: “All that matters is that you have a healthy baby.”

Two weeks ago, a blogger who writes under the name of Mummy Truths wrote a post called: I had a shit birth. Here’s six reasons why I really want others to know.

It’s a wonderful, eloquent, powerful piece about what it’s like to experience birth trauma. Within a matter of days, it had received 90,000 hits, having been shared on Facebook parenting groups, midwife groups and birth groups. Sarah brilliantly describes how women with birth trauma are silenced, about how dignity and respect are neglected in birth and how it feels to experience the constant hypervigiliance of PTSD: “The triggers are many and they are everywhere. A letter for a smear test, a shadow flickering past the window when you’re alone in the house at night. Shouting. The baby crying. It can all trigger symptoms – feelings of fear and threat – reducing a mother’s ability to parent well.”

The reason the post was shared so often was because it resonated with so many women. They read it, thinking, Yes, that’s how I felt. That’s what it was like for me.

If you want to know why birth trauma is important, then read Mummy Truths’s post. It’s time women’s stories were heard. It’s time to #BreakTheSilence.

The drug that could cut deaths from postpartum haemorrhage by a third

Every year, about 100,000 women die from haemorrhage after childbirth. Most of these deaths are in poorer countries such as Somalia or Sierra Leone where many give birth at home, without access to medical care. Even women who haemorrhage in hospital may still die, though sometimes doctors will perform a life-saving hysterectomy.

In Western countries, although postpartum haemorrhage (PPH) is relatively common (in England, 13.8% of women haemorrhage after childbirth), most women who need it will receive an instant blood transfusion. Deaths from PPH are rare.

So it’s extremely good news that a new trial has shown that administering a simple, cheap drug called tranexamic acid, which works by stopping blood clots from breaking down, could potentially save the lives of about a third of women who currently die from PPH. The study was carried out by the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine in collaboration with 193 hospitals in Africa and Asia.

The most extraordinary part of this story is that tranexamic acid was discovered in the 1960s by a Japanese husband-and-wife research team, Shosuke and Utako Okamoto. They were unable to persuade doctors to perform a clinical trial, so the drug has mostly been used as a treatment for heavy periods and to reduce bleeding as a result of trauma.The WHO currently recommends its use for PPH as a second line treatment if the first line treatment of uteronics (drugs to contract the uterus) fails. This new research shows its efficacy as a first line treatment.

Even though its impact will be smaller, it is also good news for women in developed countries. Many women who suffer from PTSD after childbirth trace it back to their experience of severe PPH, and the terror of believing they were about to die. If administering tranexamic acid eventually becomes standard practice to reduce haemorrhage, then for those women, birth will become a less frightening experience.

Why do so many babies die – and why aren’t we doing something about it?

Why, asks an article in the Telegraph, do 2,000 babies die needlessly during childbirth every year?

It’s a question that ought to bring us up short. Two thousand deaths is a huge number: compare it to, say, the number of people killed in road accidents in the UK, which is now down to about 1,700 a year.

The article’s writer, Mary Riddell, is talking about needless deaths: in total, there are 3,600 stillbirths a year in the UK, representing one in every 200 births. Some deaths can’t be avoided. So why aren’t we doing more about the ones that can?

It’s curious how complacent we are as a society about the problem of medical negligence. In the US, a study has estimated that medical errors are the third leading cause of death, behind heart disease and cancer. Somewhere between 210,000 and 440,000 patients who go to hospital in the US each year “suffer some type of preventable harm that contributes to their death”. As far as I know, however, no similar study has been carried out in the UK.

Childbirth injuries and deaths can be avoided

We do know that NHS doctors and midwives make mistakes during birth. According to the Telegraph article, compensation claims for childbirth errors have tripled in 10 years. It compares figures for England with those for Sweden:

“In the last five years, Sweden has reduced the number of serious birth injuries from 20 per 100,000 babies to five, compared with the English rate of 30 in every 100,000 babies.”

The Swedish figures show that many injuries and deaths relating to childbirth are avoidable. The Telegraph article goes on to look at a hospital that has got it right: Southmead Hospital in Bristol, which it describes as “probably the safest place in the world to give birth”. Fifteen years ago, Southmead introduced Practical Obstetric Multi-Professional Training, or PROMPT – a method of collaborative working and learning from mistakes. During that time, there has been a 50-70% reduction in common birth injuries.

How the PROMPT approach works

What PROMPT does is to make sure that all members of a team – obstetricians, midwives, anaesthetists – are on the same page when it comes to responding to a medical emergency. A representative group of professionals receive the training together and then take it back and train other staff in their own hospital. It means that if, for example, a baby’s shoulder becomes stuck, everyone knows what to do.

The only extraordinary thing about this is that it’s not already universally applied: you’d hope health professionals would all know exactly how to respond to any likely childbirth emergency. But in the less effective maternity units, that doesn’t seem to be the case – the Kirkup Review into failings at the maternity unit of Furness General Hospital exposed an apparently casual attitude towards safety. In James Titcombe’s account of his son Joshua’s death at Furness, it was striking that none of those involved seemed interested in understanding why he had died or putting measures in place to stop anything similar happening again.

A fundamental change in approach is needed. Everyone makes mistakes, but human error can be minimised if agreed best procedures are in place; and a culture of openness where people are encouraged to own up to, and reflect on, their mistakes enables everyone to learn and improve their practice in future. This is how the aviation industry treats mistakes, and it works well.

The government’s proposed rapid resolution and redress scheme, in which litigation claims could be settled quickly without recourse to the courts may help to end the culture of secrecy and cover-up and bring about a more open approach. The proposals are not without their flaws (safeguards need to be in place to make sure that rapid redress is also accompanied by a desire to learn from mistakes – which isn’t a given), but they are surely a step in the right direction. Certainly many families will be grateful for not having to wait years for compensation while litigation drags on.

It could be that we are finally on the cusp of a change that campaigners have been fighting for over many years. If so, we may look back on those 2,000 baby deaths every year and wonder why we ever tolerated it.

Thinking positively about childbirth – why did Milli Hill’s article provoke such an angry response?

 

Two weeks ago, Milli Hill published an article in the Telegraph about why we shouldn’t focus on pain when we talk to pregnant women about childbirth. Originally published under the clickbaity headline (which Hill didn’t write, and has since been changed), “The myth of the painful birth – and why it’s not nearly so bad as women believe”, the article argued that by emphasising the pain of childbirth when we talk to women, we are “setting them up to fail”.

The article provoked a number of responses challenging Hill’s view, including my own piece in the Independent, a characteristically robust blogpost by “skeptical OB” Dr Amy Tuteur in which she accused Hill of “gaslighting” women and an article by Cath Janes in Standard Issue, which talked about her own experiences of a painful birth that triggered severe PND and PTSD. Cath’s piece was, as is her style, both dark and funny – but Hill didn’t like it and asked Standard Issue to take it down. The magazine initially complied, and then republished it minus one sentence that Hill had particularly objected to, and also gave Hill a right-of-reply. The whole saga also provoked a debate on Mumsnet about who was right, with Tuteur, Janes and Hill all weighing in.

There is probably not much hope at this point of a calm, rational debate about the issue. Hill, I think, was taken by surprise at the impassioned response to her article – she thinks of herself as one of the good guys, whose sole aim is to help women have a better experience of childbirth. So what is it about her piece that made women so angry?

Minimising women’s pain

Judging by comments I’ve seen on Mumsnet, Twitter and Facebook, the answer is that, for many women, their experience is the opposite of what Hill describes. Rather than going into childbirth frightened, they went in feeling positive and upbeat – and were then shocked that the experience was much more painful and unpleasant than they expected. Instead of feeling that the pain of childbirth was overstated, they felt it was minimised. When women have had a particularly traumatic birth, they often find that other people play down their experience and tell them that it can’t have been as bad as they thought, that they must be exaggerating, that the health professionals who let them down during labour had their best interests at heart – and in any case, they have a healthy baby, so what else matters? This is why Hill’s article touched a nerve – if you’re already used to having your experience minimised by others, the idea that you shouldn’t talk about the pain of childbirth feels like yet another attempt to get you to shut up.

Think positive!

People also took issue with Hill’s article argument that going into labour with a more positive attitude can help women have a better experience. In her words: “At the moment, we simply do not know what birth would be like for women if they were given more positive messages and went into labour feeling strong, confident and capable.”

The idea that “positive thinking” can help create a different reality is one of the most pervasive – and pernicious – ideas of our times. Even cancer patients are exhorted to think positively about their illness, as if mere thinking can banish one of the most deadly of diseases. It’s a view that Barbara Ehrenreich has magnificently demolished in Smile or Die: How Positive Thinking Fooled America and the World.

For anyone on the receiving end of this view, it’s worse than exasperating – being told that a positive attitude can reduce pain has an unspoken corollary, which is that if you felt pain anyway, it must have been your fault for not being positive enough. The most inflammatory part of Hill’s piece reads: “…when you talk to women who are prepared to break with convention and say their labour was not painful, words like ‘intense’ and ‘powerful’ come up again and again. It suggests that it’s the way that these women talk and think about these sensations that’s different, rather than the sensations themselves.”

Well, no. What it suggests to me is that women have vastly different experiences of childbirth – some women experience “intense feelings” while others feel extreme pain. Even the book of Genesis, written 3,500 years ago, talks about the pain of childbearing, with no word from God, unfortunately, about focusing on the positive.

No wonder some women, reading Hill’s article, felt that their desire to tell their own story was, once again, being undermined. It’s a wearily familiar pattern: a news report in the Telegraph this week reveals that women reporting gynaecological problems to their GP are often ignored or belittled.

So, here’s my bold suggestion: why not listen to what women actually say about their experiences, rather than telling them how they ought to feel? If we all, health professionals included, do that, there’s a chance, just a chance, that women’s experience of childbirth will improve.