Unassisted childbirth: remaining discreet to stay free

The power of silence to make a natural and peaceful birth possible

Giving birth in a hospital setting has become the norm in most countries around the world, and all too often, giving birth at home—especially without medical assistance—is viewed as a potentially risky act that could endanger the lives of both the baby and the birthing woman. The risks to the mother and baby are real, and even in the most medically advanced hospitals, there are still babies and women who die during childbirth today. I have witnessed this myself. The day I arrived at the clinic, after giving birth to my first baby in the car, I learned that a woman had died following an epidural injection. It turned out she was one of the very few people allergic to epidurals. The medical staff did everything in their power to try to save her, but the woman and her baby died just thirty minutes after the injection. She was thirty-two years old and it was her first baby…

In the collective unconscious, giving birth in a hospital is reassuring and sensible. On the other hand, giving birth at home without medical assistance is frightening and unreasonable. That’s why, when you choose to give birth at home without medical assistance, it’s best to stay discreet to avoid needlessly alarming those around you.

Keeping quiet to give ourselves the right to navigate off the beaten path

After the birth of our first baby, we vowed to ourselves that, in the future, we would offer our babies a birth without violence, in a peaceful and warm context. However, we found ourselves confronted with people who were not able to truly understand the merits of this choice. When I was pregnant with my second baby, we were living in Maroua, in the Far North of Cameroon. There, women give birth at home or in rudimentary and poorly equipped clinics. Thus, when we talked about organizing the birth at our home, this did not raise any resistance from those around us. We were even introduced to a traditional birth attendant who had been accompanying women giving birth at home for about twenty years. Furthermore, a friend agreed to come to the house on the day of delivery, particularly to serve as an interpreter, because the birth attendant did not speak French, but only Fulfulde, a language we did not understand.

When I was pregnant with my third baby, we were living in France and had settled in Maine-et-Loire at the end of the pregnancy. We had met some friends who had themselves welcomed their own children at home. With these friends, we could speak freely about our project. On the other hand, with the rest of our circle, we preferred to simply avoid the subject. My mother-in-law, very anxious by nature and very dependent on the medical system, had asked me how I was going to manage. I had replied: “Don’t worry, anyway, I registered at the hospital”… and it was true!! For my four children born in Maine-et-Loire (from the third to the sixth), I always registered at the hospital, so that, in case of a problem (death of the mother and/or baby in particular), the father could say: “We intended to go to the hospital, but given the distance (forty kilometers), we didn’t have time. Besides, our first baby was born in the car.”

For our following children, it was the same. I spoke easily about my births, before or after they occurred, with my close friends capable of understanding me. On the other hand, with the rest of my circle, my neighbors or the parents of the children at school for example, I preferred not to address the subject. I had nothing to prove to anyone. It was my path, my choice, and I was well aware that most people were not able to understand its merits. So I let them imagine that I had given birth in the hospital, as one should and as everyone does.

When I was pregnant with my sixth baby, I found myself with the premonition that this baby might die on the day of delivery. Therefore, we preferred not to announce this pregnancy to our families of origin (our parents, brothers and sisters, cousins, uncles and aunts). The members of our families living several hundred kilometers from our home, it was enough for us to instruct our children not to bring up the subject during the telephone conversations they had occasionally (by landline with cord at that time, calls being expensive, they were infrequent). Finally, the birth went very well, and the child, now over twenty years old, is in great shape and in perfect health. We therefore announced the birth after the fact. The news was very well received, particularly in my family, which was mourning two recent successive deaths.

Exercising extra discretion to dare give birth away from home

When I was pregnant with my seventh child, we were living camping in nature in New Caledonia. One day, social workers came to talk with me. They invited me to go to a certain medical facility on the day of delivery. I showed interest and openness to their proposal, even though I knew very well that I would stay “at home” (therefore under the tent!!!) on the day of the birth. Indeed, the baby was born under a tent, when we had just arrived at a new camping site, accessible by a dirt road and located more than ten kilometers from the nearest village.

When I was pregnant with my eighth baby, we were in Australia. At the end of the pregnancy, we were renting a mobile home in a caravan park, to spend the winter “in the warmth”. Our children, attending school there, and already bilingual, had been instructed not to tell anyone that the baby was going to be born on site, at the risk of seeing the family expelled from the place. One day, the managers asked Christophe if the baby was going to be born at Saint John’s Hospital, which we didn’t even know by name. Christophe then replied right away: “Yes, of course,” which was very reassuring for them. In fact, the child was born in the mobile home, in which I remained hidden for a few days with my newborn. When I reappeared in broad daylight, it was as if I had already returned from the hospital. The managers never imagined that, in fact, this baby had been born on site in their caravan park…

When I was pregnant with my ninth child, we decided to rent an apartment in a hotel complex in the city of Santa Cruz, Bolivia, with the intention of filming the birth. Not knowing the exact moment the child would arrive, we stayed there for three weeks. Once again, we asked our many children—who were beginning to speak Spanish and would soon be trilingual—not to tell anyone that the child was going to be born in the hotel apartment. Everyone kept quiet. Furthermore, having been asked to check out by noon on the very day labor finally began—since the baby was about to arrive—we wrote a misleading note and handed it to the front desk. The note explained that the child had been born that morning (implying at the hospital) and asked for permission to extend our stay until the afternoon for that reason.

When I was pregnant with my tenth and eleventh children, we gave birth at home on our property in Bolivia, in complete peace, with full legitimacy, and in total privacy…

Unwavering determination and absolute silence: the essential keys to ensuring a peaceful autonomous birth

In conclusion, discretion and silence were a great help in avoiding panic among those around us and thus preserving our precious energy for what mattered most: successfully bringing our baby into the world on our own. I think most people around me assumed I was going to give birth or had given birth at the hospital, and that was just fine. When the births took place at home, we were under absolutely no obligation to explain ourselves to anyone, and we were free to do as we pleased.

On the other hand, when we found ourselves in rented accommodations (a caravan park, a hotel), we were aware that we ran the risk of the managers alerting the hospital, calling an ambulance, or evicting us from their premises. The risk was much greater for us, and we made this clear to our older children, urging them to keep quiet as well. In these last two cases, we had to resort to lying, which allowed us to maintain our peace of mind on the day our baby was born…

This article was written by Claire Loiseleur who is mother of eleven children all born in conjugal intimacy by choosing to offer our babies a birth with all the respect and love they deserve and co-author of the book:

Tout en musique et en couleurs, avec beaucoup de légendes et d’explications en voix off, le DVD VIVRE NATURELLEMENT ET PAISIBLEMENT LA NAISSANCE complète merveilleusement bien les enseignements du livre L’ACCOUCHEMENT NATUREL AUTONOME VÉCU EN COUPLE. Il est offert sous forme d’un lien de téléchargement de la vidéo à toute personne ayant acheté le livre.

Read other articles on respected childbirth :

The book AUTONOMOUS NATURAL CHILDBIRTH AS A COUPLE is part of the Lights for a New World books presented on the Youtube channel and Facebook page entitled : Lights for a New World

The expression « Lights for a New World » is explained on the following page :