Myth one: the waters have broken, labor will begin now
The breaking of the waters is the first sign that “it has begun.” This was the case with Rachel Green and Phoebe Buffay — the characters who formed the supporting structures of my teenage identity.
But in reality, which is supposedly depicted in mass culture, the waters do break in the first stage of labor, which lasts (in primiparous women) up to eighteen hours. Oops! Sometime during this period it will happen. Or not. Or a week passes between the breaking of the waters and the delivery — this also happens, although not often. Just as infrequently as the epic breaking of the waters popular in the movies.
For most women, labor begins with (drum roll) the realization that labor has begun. The woman feels contractions, and she needs to understand whether these are another training or “combat” contractions.
And contractions don’t look epic in the movie: my friends, my pregnancy podcast listeners, and I, while going through contractions, walked in parks, picked up packages from the post office, or routinely conducted live broadcasts. And you know what we didn’t do? We didn’t grab our bellies, bending over sharply and shouting: “I’m giving birth! Help! Hurry up!” The beginning of labor is mostly boring.
Myth Two: Childbirth is a quick process
The influence of movies and TV shows on my expectations of my own childbirth was so strong that I knew for sure: ten minutes would pass between the start of contractions and “I see the head,” just like in the movies. Scientific information and the chorus of doctors didn’t sound as convincing as scenes from my favorite TV shows. Danielle from “Desperate Housewives” barely had time to get home from the house next door before she heard the cry of a newborn. Am I worse?
After three hours of painless contractions, I banged on the door of the maternity ward as defiantly as if they were illegally holding the baby inside me. But the truth is that both the medical records and the statistics were true. Childbirth for most people is not only boring, but also long.
Here’s a story about war-life balance and birth timing. My friends are preparing for a twin birth. She’s in Kyiv, and he’s in the Ukrainian Armed Forces 400 kilometers away. When she realizes that labor has begun, he has to come to the hospital immediately. This plan is realistic, because 400 kilometers is five hours of travel. Most first births don’t fit into this timing.
This, of course, breaks a lot of scenarios. From the latest, “Train on December 31”, where a pregnant woman during an eight-hour journey from Kyiv to Lviv manages not only to spend time without any signs of labor activity, but also to give birth and rest after giving birth in a dining car.
Myth three: giving birth is lying on her back and following the doctor’s commands
This is how childbirth is in the movie “Annette”.
The “gold standard” of mass-culture childbirth is lying on her back and screaming. Some, like Rachel Green or the pregnant woman from the movie “Train on December 31”, lie down even during contractions and attempts. There is much more harm in this stereotype than it might seem at first glance.
At least because this position is the most painful for a woman. And so, when you give birth, it can be more painful and less painful. To do this, you need to move and find what is best for you at each stage. This is not my opinion – this is the advice of modern medical protocols. And my practice.
For millennia, women gave birth in positions that were most comfortable for them. This began to change in the 18th century, when births began to take place in hospitals, and male doctors gradually replaced traditional midwives. Women were not allowed to attend medical schools. It was believed that a man without a penis could not understand childbirth. Of course, where would he get one!
Men declared themselves the main ones in matters of birth: medical interventions (such as the use of forceps) became a priority, and the natural course of childbirth was often ignored.
A woman was transformed into an object from which doctors extracted a child. These are unexpected “achievements” that, among other things, were brought to us by the development of medicine. It was only in the 20th century that women began to receive medical education, and with it the right to subjectivity in their own childbirth.
Modern medicine advises doctors to encourage women to move during labor. We could learn this from movies, but the male cult is still guided by the 18th century standard: a confused and frightened woman on her shoulder blades and a hero-savior who “gives birth” to her.
That’s exactly what happened in “The Train on December 31,” where the woman in labor was placed on her shoulder blades on the table of a dining car. Imagine yourself on your back on a table in a dining car with your legs spread. Comfortable? Now add the movement of the train and the effort. Incredible, right?
The only thing worse is that the woman is heroically saved by a man who calls three other men. Of course, no one asks women who have children about childbirth.
Continuing the thought experiment, I will assume that childbirth on a train could go like this: the girl would stay in her compartment, a person would come there to help her, and the woman in labor would hardly climb onto the table if there was a bed.
Why is it important to show the subjectivity of a woman during childbirth
And not just intimidate with fear and pain, from which women are heroically saved.
Let’s start from the opposite: for what purpose should we intimidate women? To show how a person instantly loses all control, hoping that someone will tell her how to save herself. For what? Fear is adrenaline, it slows down labor activity. Isn’t it better when a woman, crossing the threshold of the hospital, is not intimidated, does not expect horror, but has the opportunity to think: should/can I be comfortable during childbirth? How? Do I have the right to move, drink, eat (labor can last 20 hours, after all)? Whose needs during childbirth are the main ones – mine or the doctors’?
The answer to the last question is key: if the main ones are the doctors (or those who take the birth), then I may have to obey them, even if they commit violence against me (shout, interfere with the birth without my conscious consent, press on my stomach, forbid me to move, determine the way in which the birth will take place against my will). This is all obstetric violence, a violation of the rights of the woman in labor, unacceptable behavior of medical personnel. And it is also important to know about this “beforehand”.
I believe and know that the woman is the main one in childbirth, because, after all, she is the only person without whom the birth will not take place. Everyone else is present only to facilitate her experience, support, help. And save in those rare situations when it is really necessary.
Such childbirth, by the way, is also shown in TV series.
For example, This Is Us. Due to force majeure, the heroine Beth gives birth at home. She finds a comfortable position (miraculously, not on her back on the dining table, unlike Piper Halliwell, for example). And no one heroically saves her, she is supported by another woman and her husband.
What to do. Consulting for the film industry and beyond
Mascult must recognize its influence on the formation of women’s ideas about childbirth and stop exploiting emergency births and outdated practices. This will allow us to understand that the stereotypes about a helpless woman who needs rescuers-doctors only reinforce the culture of fear and increase the tolerance of obstetric violence.
Screenwriters and directors should research the topic before writing and filming childbirth scenes. There are consultants in forensics, medicine, and martial arts in cinema, so why is childbirth still “drawn” from a TV series template? Take advice from midwives, doctors, doulas, watch documentaries about the medicalization of childbirth, and ask ChatGPT which stereotypes about childbirth are not true.
Viewers also have a voice. We can share our own childbirth stories. It seems like a drop in the ocean, but each story can become a brick from which another woman can build her confidence. We can comment on and analyze childbirth scenes in films and TV series, ask why the heroine is screaming in pain and is not offered pain relief, why doctors act as if she has no voice. Demand creates supply.
Mascult doesn’t just reproduce reality — it constructs it. So if we don’t want to see intimidated women ready for violence in maternity wards, then maybe we should show more than just the horrors of childbirth? Fear blocks childbirth. But it helps restore a sense of security, one’s own strength, and peace. Good words to describe childbirth, dear creators of mass content.
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