Technology in pregnancy
Foetal dopplers, 4-D ultrasounds, at-home
gender-prediction kits… The sheer amount of technological products
and services available for pregnant women is mind-boggling. But is
it all really necessary? How much is too much?
Too much
technology
by Laura Williamson
I am ambivalent
about ultrasounds. I did use them when I was pregnant, having done
some reading and having decided that the potential health benefits
outweighed any risks. Still, leaving the medical centre clutching
that first image of my unborn child, I was troubled. I couldn't
help feeling I'd invaded the little guy's privacy, and that I'd
done it more for my own benefit than his. The womb might be the
last place in the Western world where humans can live totally
technology-free. Shouldn't I be trying to keep it that way?
People have been having babies since before recorded time, and
since well before we had the tools or knowledge to intervene.
Advances in science and medicine have, of course, made the whole
process safer for both mother and child, and good on them.
But lately we've started to use technology to meddle in pregnancy
in ways that are simply unnecessary. Do we really need to know the
gender of our children before they are born? Do we have the right
to bombard them with high-frequency sound waves for our own peace
of mind? No, we don't.
The California State Assembly agrees. After Tom Cruise and
then-fiancée Katie Holmes bought themselves an ultrasound scanner
to use at home, the Assembly passed the "Tom Cruise Law". This
legislation banned the sale of diagnostic ultrasound equipment to
anyone who isn't a licensed health care provider. (Either way,
little Suri seems to have come out fine, although she looks a
little tired from all the shopping.)
Interestingly, the American College of Radiology also recommended
that the law ban the sale of similar equipment to "foetal keepsake
studios", businesses that sell sonogram videos to expectant parents
as souvenirs. The message? Ultrasound technology is a great way to
monitor the health of a developing foetus, but it's a medical
procedure, not entertainment.
Then there's the fear factor. As well as being invasive, too much
knowledge can be unsettling. Take foetal dopplers. There is nothing
cooler than hearing your baby's heart beating for the first time,
and I'll never forget the sound of my son's pumping away like a
little sparrow's in my tummy. But after I'd heard his heart once, I
became completely paranoid. I'd agonise between my midwife's
visits, terrified that, the next time she came, where there had
been the audible pulse of life, there would be silence.
Of course, I could have rented a handheld foetal heart monitor;
anyone can these days. But would I have found myself getting up
three times a night to check, just in case? I can't help but think
that things were better for my mother, who had no choice but to
spend nine months in blissful ignorance and accept whatever fate
delivered. Even worse, though, is the trend of using gestation as a
chance to give our kids a head start in education. Prenatal
learning systems - audio devices which play everything from sound
patterns to foreign languages for your foetus - are a hot item at
the moment. The concept probably has origins in the "Mozart
Effect", which theorises that exposure to classical music makes you
smarter. It's based on studies conducted in the early 1990s which
concluded that listening to Mozart improved spatio-temporal
reasoning. I'm not sure that anyone actually knows what
spatio-temporal reasoning is, but suddenly gaggles of pregnant
women were seen wandering around with headphones strapped to their
bellies, humming along to piano concertos.
For the record, I didn't play any Mozart for my son when I was
pregnant, although he did get exposed to a spot of Miles Davis and
a fair bit of Kylie Minogue (I'm a secret fan). But I was amazed
how many people asked me if I was playing classical music for my
baby, many of whom raised a judgemental eyebrow when I said no.
Surely the natural environment of the womb, designed to be ideal
for the physical and mental development of a child, would do
a perfectly good job on its own. Wasn't it enough that I had
given up red wine? Did I really need to update my CD library as
well?
The unknown was once just a natural part of pregnancy and
birth. Parents didn't know if their child was going to be a boy or
a girl; they didn't know if their child was going to be perfectly
healthy or not; they didn't know if their child would be musically
gifted, good at numbers, or calm and attentive in the classroom.
And because they didn't know, they didn't try to control the
process.
Technology has improved the health outcomes for pregnancy and
childbirth, and there is a place for its use when needed. But the
pressure to use every device available to make our children the
best and the brightest they can be before we've even met them has
gone too far.
Does technology belong in the womb? Occasionally. But when it
comes to life before birth, let's accept a little mystery. As much
as possible, and while we still can, let's leave our children in
peace.
Laura Williamson is a Canadian freelance writer and editor
based in Wanaka. Over the past 15 years, her articles, stories and
poems have appeared in publications around the world, including The
Press, The Otago Daily Times and Brain, Child: The Magazine for
Thinking Mothers. You can read more of her work at
www.laurawillliamson.co.nz
Bring it
on
by Liz Breslin
Thanks
to technology, I knew at 12 weeks that I was expecting twins.
Thanks to technology and geography (holidaying in the UK at the
time), I learned that they were non-identical and that their
chances of being born with Down syndrome were very slight. A nuchal
translucency test is a standard procedure for multiples
there.
Returning to New Zealand, I found the system to be much less
medicalised. This, in part, was possibly because I live
three-and-a-half hours by road from the nearest hospital. The
maternity centre, a mere hour away, was never going to be an option
for me. I knew that my fantasy home birth would remain just that,
when I read the words of Dr Carol Cooper. In her parenting
guide, Twins and Multiple Births: The Essential Parenting Guide
from Pregnancy to Adulthood, under the subheading "Twin Births at
Home", she has this to say: "Don't even consider it. Some doctors
quip that women asking for a home birth for twins need to see a
psychiatrist, not an obstetrician."
So, as you can imagine, I saw a lot of my midwife and my
obstetrician. Through my many ultrasound scans I watched the
miracle of my babies' growth; to see them on a screen, curled
together, totally blew my mind. The amplified pounding of the
hearts inside me was the highlight of each visit. And my husband's.
It was a hinge for him to have some understanding of the weirdness
that was taking place in our lives but only, so far, in my
body.
Over the next few months, outside of the medical environment, I
learned so much more about them - not least how much they enjoyed
kicking my bladder just as I was drifting off to sleep. I learned
these things: Peanut butter sandwiches sent them crazy; scary movie
adrenalin is totally transferable; Faure's Requiem literally moved
them in a way I hadn't felt before. Basically, I became aware of
the environment that they felt relaxed in. It is common knowledge
that babies can respond to external stimulus long before they are
born.
You might think it's crazy to define an outside environment for
your unborn child, but consider this: Once they arrive in the big,
wide world, you would surely want to create an inviting, nurturing
atmosphere. Why not start as early as they do?
Just to be clear, here, I am not defending the extremes of
so-called technology such as Bellysonic, FirstSounds or BabyPlus,
who claim the womb is "the perfect classroom" and give you sixteen
sonic lessons to play to your unborn baby. This is taking the
controversial "Mozart effect" just a step too far for my liking. I
did play Mozart to my kids, but I happen to like Mozart. It is
smart music. It's not so smart to strap a silly egg around an
already huge belly in the unproven hope of hothousing your poor
protégé.
Technology, in its true sense, saved at least one of my children.
To cut a long, laborious story short, it started with induction,
and the highlights included one natural and one emergency Caesarean
birth. So I will always defend the use of safe technology in the
right hands.
Are the mother's hands the right hands? Well, yes... Within
reason.
So what are our reasons for this? Firstly, modern life is
paranoid. Nine minutes is a long time to wait for anything, let
alone nine months. This gives us plenty of time to listen to our
doubts and fears and have them played on by people marketing
solutions to us. Foetal dopplers might fall in this category.
They're available to hire now in many countries. If this makes for
less stressed, more attached parents, what harm can that cause?
It's the sound of life, a celebration. Of course we want to tune
in.
Secondly, technology is everywhere. It's not just present at
birth. We surround ourselves with screens, microwaves, vacuums -
the latter apparently create a great white noise that soothes
babies. I often managed to convince my husband to vacuum while I
lay down to get the full benefit... For the children, of
course.
Thirdly, we compete in a way we never have before. There are just
so many Joneses to keep up with. This isn't necessarily a game that
anyone can win, but if the outcome doesn't harm your baby and does
increase the chances of secure attachment between you, what's the
problem?
Cost would be one issue. 3D imaging of your baby's brain might
become common practice in the future, but is now only for those who
need it or can afford it. Bronze casts of your unborn child, as
created by an enterprising student at the Royal College of Art in
the UK, are undoubtedly nice, in the same way that plaster of Paris
belly casts are fun. Why not, if you can?
I don't for a moment imagine that pre-birth technology can
reliably help you predict greatness in your child, or the chances
of them developing autism, or a predilection for burning down
schools; I don't think it is right to mess with their path in that
way. What I do know is that technology helped me to relax more
through my pregnancy, helped my husband to understand more of the
miracle, and helped the kids make it alive into our world. And for
that, I will always be grateful.
Liz Breslin lives and writes in Hawea Flat, New Zealand. Her
articles, stories, poetry and reviews have been published at home
and internationally. Her frst play, Losing Faith: A Tale of PND,
will be performed in 2010.
As seen in OHbaby!
magazine Issue 9: 2010
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