14 of 16 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Dr. Epstein delivers!, March 1, 2010
This review is from: Get Me Out: A History of Childbirth from the Garden of Eden to the Sperm Bank (Hardcover)
This history of the last few hundred years of childbirth trends had all the makings of an irreverent romp through the messy business of baby-making. There are moments of hilarity and charm, but author Randi Epstein is smart enough to realize that much of the history of interventions in the childbearing business is built on untimely death and horrifying suffering. The curse of Eve -- by which theologians blithely assigned the pain of childbirth to the disobedience of our prodigal mother -- is a ready reality in this age of antiseptics and ultrasounds. Women still die bearing children, perhaps not as much in the industrialized world as elsewhere. But all must deal with the evolutionary tradeoff between big-headed babies and narrow birth canals that allow upright walking.
While gently mocking old trends (male doctors were once banned from actually watching childbirth and had to grope around blindly under sheets) Epstein is almost too fair when it comes to the ironies of modern childbirth trends. Those who choose elective C-sections vie with the hardy souls who insist on birthing without meds at all. The western cultural bias toward individuality in all things vies with the proven track record of medical practitioners whose experience with thousands of mothers gives them a leg up on the less experienced. Epstein is also fair about the midwife v. obstetrician controversy, acknowledging the disdain with which men looked down on women practitioners, but realizing that the midwives were hardly the font of natural knowledge that simpler histories might suggest. Epstein also bends over backward when telling of Dr. Marion Sims, the doctor who perfected techniques for repairing vaginal fistulas by injuring slave women, then sewing them up -- all without anesthetics. Was Sims a monster or a messiah? Epstein's answer avoids an easy solution.
"Get me out" depicts the myriad ways in which western women choose to become pregnant and to give birth. It's a book that (without saying so in so many words) conveys the suffering and pain inherent in the process of bringing new human life into the world. Captivating.
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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Disappointing, June 11, 2011
First, what I liked about the book. The title is terrific, and it's written in a very accessible upbeat style, a gift for a sleep-deprived mom. Unfortunately, the book doesn't provide a comprehensive history of childbirth.
The firs chapter is an amalgamation of Western European superstition related to childbirth. Although superstitions come from different times and different places, they are all lumped together. It's fascinating anthropological material, but author fails to make any sense out of it.
Next come chapters on medicine replacing midwifery and male doctors replacing female midwives in early modern Europe, laying ins and twilight sleep. It's been a standard feminist criticism of the field for nearly a half a century, and I'm not sure this is the go to book for this point of view. Epstein provides no discussion of scientific method which underlies medical science or what it means that so many women today reject science.
Although the title of this book refers to baby, author doesn't seem to be interested in infant survival. She is more concentrated on experiences of mothers, for instance, she sites high maternal mortality rates in re poor hygiene in 19th century hospitals. Author acknowledges women's desire to avoid pain in single paragraph in conclusion of her chapter on twilight sleep. She has anything goes attitude towards unassisted childbirth (giving birth outside the hospital w/out help of midwives). She did not interview an OB to check if this "freebirthing" is safe for babies.
The chapters discussing pregnancy and childbirth today are centered around fringe phenomena ("freebirthing", sperm donors, egg freezing). It's an entertaining read, but few women today will recognize their experiences in this book. Author mentions EPT in passing, but not early screening for genetic diseases or epidurals. She doesn't touch upon our legal culture and its influence on c-section rates.
This book might be fun to read, but it's not very satisfying.
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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Witty and encyclopedic, March 31, 2011
What if we view history not by the rise and fall of empires, but through the everyday experience of childbirth through time? This is the story told in "Get Me Out: A History of Childbirth from the Garden of Eden to the Sperm Bank,"(W.W. Norton, $15.95 paperback) by Randi Hutter-Epstein, M.D. Witty and entertaining, the book is also encyclopedic in scope. It passes muster as a work of medical history, and at the same time, provides practical information that new mothers will find valuable.
"Get Me Out" is full of truth-is-stranger-than-fiction tales. To get pregnant, Catherine de Medici, France's sixteenth-century queen, was advised to drink mare's urine, and to soak her privates in cow manure and ground stag's antlers. In nineteenth century New York, post-partum women aired out their genitals on the hospital rooftop, high above Manhattan.
The book abounds with fascinating characters. We meet England's Chamberlen family, who for 200 years beginning in the 1500's, were renowned for their ability to safely deliver babies thanks to a secret family tool--forceps. In pre-Civil War United States, surgeon Marion Sims took ten postpartum slave women into his backyard, and by gruesome experimentation on their genitals, cured one of childbirth's most horrible side effects--vaginal rips that caused women to leak urine and feces, and to thus be outcast for the rest of their lives. This disabling postpartum condition is still common in developing countries, but no longer exists in the west, thanks to the anonymous slave women, and to Dr. Sims. We meet Berkeley mom and activist Pat Cody, who took on the powerful drug companies that manufactured DES (diethylstilbestrol), a synthetic hormone given to millions of women as a pregnancy enhancer, but which instead caused cancer and birth defects for children exposed in utero. We get a personal glimpse of sperm bank proprietor Dr. Cappy Rothman, who lives in a home decorated with penis sculptures, and whose California Cryobank has a masturbatorium wallpapered with porn.
The quest for healthier, pain free childbirth is one of the book's many storylines. In the Garden of Eden, Eve cheated on her diet with an apple, as the author's version of the tale goes. In this manner, the first woman incurred the sentence of painful childbirth for all women. Virtue and painful childbirth were so synonymous that in 1591 Scotland, Eufame Maclayne was burned at the stake for requesting pain relief while birthing twins. Only in the early 1900's did pain relief in childbirth become socially acceptable, reflecting a time when women discarded their corsets and danced without chaperones. Lithuanian immigrant Lane Bryant (nee Lina Himmelstein) started the first line of maternity wear. "Twilight Sleep," became a fad in which upper class American women traveled to Germany to undergo birthing while knocked out by morphine and sedatives. Backlash begat the freebirthers movement, and later, Lamaze.
"Get Me Out" also offers cautionary tales about technology and pregnancy. In the 1930's, X-rays were a routine part of prenatal exams. Even after fetal X-ray exposure was linked to leukemia in 1956, prenatal X-rays continued for another 20 years. Dr. Hutter-Epstein uses the example of X-rays to provide a context for the widespread use of prenatal ultrasounds today. "We must not forget that it took nearly half a century for the damaging effects of X-rays upon the fetus in utero to come to light," cautions Ian Donald, the very obstetrician who pioneered fetal ultrasound.
"Get Me Out" indeed covers a lot of ground. Several storylines could have been better developed. But altogether, this is a commendable book, readable yet rigorous, written by a woman with the unusual qualifications of medical journalist, an editor of the Yale Journal of Humanities and Medicine, and also, a mother of four.
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