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The Medieval Child, Part 2 |
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Because the primary purpose of marriage at any level of medieval society was to produce children, the birth of a baby was usually a cause for joy. Yet there was also an element of anxiety. While the childbirth mortality rate is probably not as high as folklore would have it,1 there was still a possibility of complications, including birth defects or a breech birth, as well as the death of mother or child or both. And even under the best of circumstances, there was no effective anesthetic to eradicate the pain.
The lying-in room was almost exclusively the province of women; a male physician would only be called in when surgery was necessary.2 Under ordinary circumstances, the mother--be she peasant, town-dweller, or noblewoman--would be attended by midwives. A midwife would usually have more than a decade of experience, and she would be accompanied by assistants whom she was training. In addition, female relatives and friends of the mother would frequently be present in the birthing room, offering support and good will, while the father was left outside with little more to do but pray for a safe delivery.
The presence of so many bodies could raise the temperature of a room already made warm by the presence of a fire, which was used to heat water for bathing both mother and child. In the homes of the nobility, gentry, and wealthy townspeople, the birthing room would usually be freshly-swept and provided with clean rushes; the best coverlets were put on the bed and the place was turned out for display.
Sources indicate that some mothers may have given birth in a sitting or squatting position.3 To ease the pain and to hasten the process of childbirth, the midwife might rub the mother's belly with ointment. Birth was usually expected within 20 contractions; if it took longer, everyone in the household might try to help it along by opening cupboards and drawers, unlocking chests, untying knots, or even shooting an arrow into the air. All of these acts were symbolic of opening the womb.
If all went well, the midwife would tie off and cut the umbilical cord and help the baby take its first breath, clearing its mouth and throat of any mucus. She would then bathe the child in warm water or, in more affluent homes, in milk or wine;4 she might also use salt, olive oil, or rose petals. Trotula of Salerno, a 12th-century female physician, recommended washing the tongue with hot water to assure the child would speak properly.5 It was not uncommon to rub honey on the palate to give the baby an appetite.
The infant would then be swaddled snugly in linen strips so that his limbs might grow straight and strong, and laid in a cradle in a dark corner, where his eyes would be protected from bright light. It would soon be time for the next phase in his very young life: Baptism.
Next Page > Baptism > Page 1, 2, 3
Notes
1. Hanawalt, Barbara, Growing Up in Medieval London (Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 43 and 234. The author cites 14.4 maternal deaths for every 1,000 births in 15th century Florence. This figure rises to approximately 20% when deaths resulting from complications of pregnancy or some condition related to child-bearing, rather than the birth process itself, are added. [back]
2. Ibid., p. 44. [back]
3. Hanawalt, Barbara, The Ties that Bound: Peasant Families in Medieval England (Oxford University Press, 1986), p. 216. [back]
4. Hanawalt, Growing Up in Medieval London, p. 43. [back]
5. Gies, Frances and Joseph, Marriage and the Family in the Middle Ages (Harper & Row, 1987), p. 198. [back]
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