‘I can see that the need to be free to reproduce can lead to all kinds of power struggle…’ I began.
Elsa repeated the words slowly, as if they were a mantra, ‘ “I can see that the need to be free to reproduce can lead to all kinds of power struggle…” That’s true throughout nature, isn’t it? We have to hope that we can unite to prove Choihosla’s statement holds some truth.’ Then without pause, she added, ‘A delegation of women has booked a forum in Hindenburg Hall tomorrow, 10 p.m. They wish to talk about better ways – more congenial ways, I suppose – of giving birth. Can you be there?’
‘Um … you’re not trying to tell me you’re pregnant, are you, Elsa?’
Perhaps a pallid smile crossed her face. ‘Certainly not,’ she said. ‘If only I were pregnant with the truth…’
She turned back to her work. And then said, ‘Could be I prefer detachment, rather than letting go and returning the love of my lovers. Does that give me more power?’
It sounded like a weakness to me, but I cautiously treated her question as rhetorical.
Prompt at ten next morning, a delegation of women met under the giant Hindenburg mural.
The Greek woman, Helen Panorios, spoke on behalf of the group. She placed her hands on her hips and stood without gesture as she spoke.
‘We make a demand that may at first seem strange to most of you. Please hear us out. We women require a special apartment in the new extension. It need not be too large, as long as it is properly equipped. We wish to call it the Birth Room, and for no men ever to be allowed inside it. It will be sacred to the processes of birth.’
She was interrupted by Mary Fangold, the hospital personnel manager. ‘Excuse me. Of course I have heard this notion circulating. It is a ridiculous duplication of work that our hospital’s maternity branch already carries out effectively. We have a splendid record of natal care. Mothers are up and out a day after parturition, without complications. I oppose this so-called “Birth Room” on the grounds that it is unreasonable and a slur against the reputation of our hospital.’
Helen Panorios barely moved a muscle.
‘It is your cooperation, not your opposition we hope for, Mary. You condemn your system by your own words. You see, the hospital still carries out production-line methods – mothers in one day, out the next. Just as if we were machines, and babies to be turned out like – like so many hats. It’s all so old-fashioned and against nature.’
Another woman joined in support. ‘We have spent so much time talking about the upbringing and education of our children without looking at the vital matter of their first few hours in this world. This period is when the bonding process between mother and child must take place.
The bustle of our hospital is not conducive to that process, and may indeed be in part the cause of negligent mothers and disruptive children. The Birth Room will change all that.’
Crispin asked, ‘Is this a way of cutting out the fathers?’
‘Not at all,’ said Helen. ‘But there is always, rightly, a mystery about birth. Men should not be witnesses to it. Oh, I know that sounds like a retrograde step. It has been the fashion for men to be present at bornings, and indeed often enough male doctors have supervised the delivery. But fashions change. We wish to try something different.
‘In fact, the Birth Room is an old forgotten idea. It’s a place for female consolation for the rigours of child-bearing. Women will be able to come and go in the Room. They can rest there whether pregnant or not. Female mid-wives will attend the accouchement. More importantly, mothers will be able to stay there after the birth, to be idle, to suckle their child, to chat with other women. No men at all.
‘No men until a week after the birth. Women must have their province. Somehow, in our struggle for equality we have lost some of the desirable privileges we once enjoyed in previous times.