A Goat-Inspired Birth Plan, an Unintentional Introduction to Hypnobirthing
Giving birth in Portugal, Part I
Somewhere along the way, in my early twenties, I became terrified of giving birth. I heard too many stories of things going wrong. Thankfully, as life goes, I eventually found my “half orange” — a term of endearment I picked up in Bolivia, their equivalent to our “my better half” — and, in April 2020, I was thrilled to find out I was pregnant.
And that was thanks to a goat.
Inspired by a goat’s way of giving birth
In 2017, my husband and I moved to Portugal. Within a year, we bought an old farm and started renovating the ruins on the land with a goal to develop a small ecotourism project. Along the way, we got a few chickens. Then came four goats. They were pregnant when we bought them, and we looked forward to welcoming adorable kids to our homestead.
The first goat gave birth in the middle of the night. The second gave birth in broad daylight. I was lucky enough to witness the process, and that changed everything.
Meli gave birth in a small pen. The location was of her choosing as we let our goats free-range. She alternated between bleating to let her companions know where she was (or share the latest gossip?), munching on some hay, and having contractions. At no point in the process did she look pained.
“Why can’t we do it that way?” I thought.
It became my goal to give birth like a goat.
It may sound crazy, but I felt that if other animals managed to give birth so casually, then with the benefit of modern comforts and medicine, we should be able to do the same — or better. Except everything I knew about humans giving birth seemed worse.
Once pregnant, I found out about hypnobirthing. It turns out, it was the process I was looking for — a way to connect to the goat in me.
Hypnobirthing: A growing trend, and a way to give birth like a goat
Hypnobirthing uses meditation, relaxation, and breathing techniques to let the body and baby work together for a medication-free, pain-free, vaginal birth.
That’s what I wanted!
Of course, such a smooth birth is not always possible — but it was worth having it as a goal, and it became an integral part of my birth plan.
We signed up for a virtual course, and I read Marie Mongan’s book on the subject (she found early inspiration in seeing a cat give birth… #greatminds). It was fascinating to learn about how far away we got from natural processes in our world of modern medicine. Did you know that the standard in the United States in the 1950’s was for women to be anesthetized once labour started, and their babies pulled out with forceps?! Through Mongan, I learned what our bodies can do when we trust them.
While I was convinced, most healthcare systems have yet to transition from treating birth as a purely medical process, and living in rural Portugal made it all the more challenging to find a doctor and hospital open to doing things slightly differently. That’s why after doing most of my pregnancy check-ins at a nearby public hospital, at 37-weeks pregnant, I changed to a hospital a bit farther away. I felt that there, at least, the medical staff was much more humane*, treating me — as a woman and as a patient — as someone worth listening to and supporting.
In an attempt to bridge the gap I perceived between how animals give birth, hypnobirthing as a method to connect to that natural instinct, and the medical system, my birth plan can be summarized as follows:
- Possibility of walking around and changing positions during labour
- Limited cervical exams (i.e., only if medically indicated)
- Vaginal birth with no de-facto episiotomy
- No epidural (unless I change my mind once labour begins, because you never know)
- Priority given to immediate skin-to-skin contact between mother and baby after birth, for as long as possible, to enable the instinctive latch — often referred to as “golden hour”
Everyone will tell you that things will not go according to (birth) plan. I knew that, but still wanted to have a clear sense of what I was aiming for. And yes, that meant wanting to give birth like a goat.
Then, life happened, and my birth plan turned into an odyssey — but that’s another story.
Do you have a birth story you want to share? Bonus points if it happened in Portugal. Email me (sradjyATgmailDOTcom) or fill out this Google form (it won’t take more than a few minutes).
*While this should be a given, it is not.
