I remember seeing a news article several years ago about a modern art exhibit where visitors were pondering, appreciating, and photographing a lone utilitarian chair— until a staff member unceremoniously carried it away, merely the last of the seating from an earlier event.1
The general reaction to this story was a laugh and a headshake over “how silly modern art has gotten.” Because…what’s with all those people thinking a plain old chair is art? Now all you have to do is slap some paint on a canvas or stick a random object in an empty room and it’s “art”!
And yet… Art, through all of history and in all its forms and styles, is simply a means of communicating something about beauty or meaning. It certainly doesn’t always resonate with an audience, but it is always an artist’s attempt to communicate: “I found beauty or meaning here. Come look. It matters.”
What most people saw in the story of the chair-that-wasn’t-art was about art.
But I saw something else…something about people.
If people have reason to expect to find beauty or meaning—such as being in a setting like an art exhibit—they will look for it.
And if people look for beauty or meaning in something… They will find it, because it’s there.
People saw an empty chair and thought, perhaps, of the loneliness there is when there’s no one to sit in the chairs around us. Maybe they thought of the unyielding restlessness of our culture, so judgmental of taking breaks. Or maybe they thought of the liberation of standing up from a chair, either by personal choice or by being told “you’re free to go.”
Either way, the meanings were already there. Meaning made something assumed to be not worth the attention…worth a closer look. Anything that’s worth a closer look has value in our eyes, and anything with value? It holds a sense of beauty for us.
In this way, birth is a lot like art.
It has inherent beauty, value, and meaning. That makes it worth a closer look.
Our culture has reduced birth to something often called “gross” or “painful” or “inappropriate for some audiences.” Birth has been reduced to a concept that is almost grotesque…a distortion of the comfortable view we’d like to have of the human experience.
Often, birth is ignored, and the experience and meaning of birthing mothers along with it.
But I’m one of those artists, trying to communicate: “NO! I see beauty and meaning here. Come look closer. It matters.”
It matters if you’re a maiden or a new mother who’s heard the horror stories and they’ve made you afraid of birth.
It matters if you’re a seasoned mother and you need to be reminded of the often-silenced beauty and meaning you know you experienced through birth.
It matters if you’re a mother who experienced birth trauma and needs to know that’s not how it’s supposed to be, even though sometimes that’s how it is.
It matters if you’re a husband who has a pregnant wife, or a wife who’s already had her babies.
It matters if you’re a dad raising daughters, or a brother growing up amongst sisters.
It matters if you’re a birthworker, whether you’re an OB, a midwife, a doula, or anyone else professionally serving pregnant, birthing, or postpartum mothers.
Why does it matter?
Because every single person is born, one way or another. Because every baby has a mother who gave birth.
It matters… Because we recognize birth as an important enough event in a person’s life to celebrate it annually. And yet… We don’t culturally put much thought into how our birth experiences—both as the person birthing and the person being born—will impact us for the rest of our lives.
It matters… Because how we personally view birth, and birthing mothers, becomes how our culture views them. How our culture views birth and birthing mothers is reflected in our laws, our medical policies and procedures, and our workplace policies for both men and women. It’s reflected in how mothers talk to each other and their children about birth. It’s reflected in how mothers talk about fathers in relation to birth, and in how fathers talk about birth.
It matters… Because the culture we create around birth impacts not only the mothers, but everyone.
This is why I tell my story. This is why I spend hours researching physiological birth, mother-directed birth, and cultural views of birth. This is why I work hard to share the information I do in a way that makes it accessible.
For my own sake in my childbearing years, for the sake of my children tomorrow, for the sake of my sisters-in-arms birthing their own children alongside me today…
I want to support women in making powerful choices in pregnancy and birth. And I want to empower the families and communities around those women with the knowledge and courage to be true supporters to them as well.
I want to share the world-changing beauty and meaning that is possible in birth.
For the sake of everyone.
It matters.
Love and Blessings,
Rachel
I looked for this story again so I could link to it, but I couldn’t find it. If anyone knows where it can be found, please let me know!