By
Kim Rendfeld
How
risky was childbirth in the Middle Ages? Risky enough that expectant mothers
were encouraged to confess their sins before they went into labor. Risky enough
that midwives were the only laypeople permitted to baptize newborns if the baby
was likely to die.
In
fact, more than one of every three adult women died during their child-bearing
years. With that kind of statistic, it’s easy to imagine that everyone knew
someone who died in childbirth or from its complications.
Children
were born at home. If they were peasants, babies would be delivered in a one or
two room house. The aristocracy, however, had special lying-in chambers, to
which the mother would retreat when her time was close. The low-ceilinged room
would have fresh rushes or strewing herbs on the floor to make the place smell
nice, and the best coverlets were used. Wealth was on display, and candied nuts
and fruits were set out for guests.
In
a society where girls married as young as age 12, many of the mothers were
teenagers. For instance, Charlemagne’s third wife, Hildegard, might have been
14 when she gave birth to her first child. After eight more children, she died
in her mid-20s.
 |
| A 16th century illustration of a woman using a birthing chair to deliver a child (public domain image from Wikimedia Commons) |
When the mother went into labor, the entrance to
the lying-in chamber was shut, and the windows were sealed to block out light.
With the mother were a midwife, who had learned her craft from her own mother,
and five or six female friends and relatives.
No
men were allowed, not the father, not even a doctor. Medieval folk considered
childbirth a part of life not related to medicine. Considering that medieval
medicine was based on the ancient philosophy of humors, it might have been for
the best.
The
midwife’s duty was to ease the mother through childbirth. She would rub an
ointment on the mother’s belly to speed up the delivery. If the labor was
difficult, the mother’s hair would be loosened and all pins removed. Doors and
cupboard drawers were open; knots were untied. The midwife might have used
charms such as jasper or the right foot of a crane. She might have whispered
magic words into her patient’s ear. Cesareans were done only as a last resort.
As
the time to deliver drew near, the mother might sit on a birthing chair, whose
seat is shaped like a horseshoe. When the baby was born, the midwife would tie
the umbilical cord and tie it at four fingers’ length. She bathed the child,
rubbed them with salt, and used honey on their palettes and gums to stimulate
their appetite. Then the infant would be wrapped in swaddling, which would be
changed every three hours.
After
the birth, the mother would remain in her lying-in chamber for a month, during
which her only visitors were the midwife and her female companions.
An
impending birth in the Middle Ages often was greeted with great joy, especially
if it meant a longed-for heir. Yet it likely also carried an almost equal share
of anxiety.
Sources:
Daily
Life in Medieval Times by Frances and Joseph Gies
Europe
after Rome: A New Cultural History 500-1000 by Julia M.H. Smith
“Capturing
the Wandering Womb” by Kate Phillips, The Haverford Journal, April 2007
Kim Rendfeld is the author of The Cross and
the Dragon, whose heroine, Alda, is frustrated that her lying-in chamber
remains unused. Her yet-to-be-published second novel, The Ashes of Heaven’s Pillar, has two scenes in a lying-in chamber,
one that goes well and one that goes horribly wrong. For more about Kim and her
fiction, visit www.kimrendfeld.com.
