MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING?

As part of my online searches to discover new information about pregnancy loss research, coping strategies and management I stumbled upon an interesting thread of comments.

This comments thread was in response to a news article in The Guardian online. The article was about a lady who, after suffering multiple losses, decided to organise across the United Kingdom different commemorative services where people could come to say goodbye to their unborn babies. An opportunity, if you may, to have a “funeral” for the pregnancy loss and hopefully leave with some form of closure.

What sparked the debate was someone wondering if services like this would just make too much about an issue no one used to talk about in the past. Women would have a miscarriage, be it early or late or even have a stillbirth and the healthcare team would just pretty much clean her up and send her home. It seemed that this person was pining for such simpler times when people did not talk so much about their feelings and go on and on about the babies they lost.

The responses to this comment ranged from vehement disapproval: “you have obviously never lost a pregnancy!” (It turns out the person commenting never had, go figure!) to guarded support: “some women do take it too far”.

I do think times have changed. I think that the inevitable consequence of a society where women have a voice is that women will speak. At a time when, in the Western part of the world at least, women are educated, enlightened and empowered, people have to deal with the fact that these women will highlight issues that are important to them.

I have written already about the disenfranchised grief of pregnancy loss and so it should come as no surprise that I wholeheartedly support the idea of an avenue that permits women (and those close to them) to grieve.

I grant that there is a danger (in some circles) to talk this issue of pregnancy loss to death but from personal experience and from talking to others who have gone through it as well, there is a more present danger (especially where I come from) of not talking about it enough.

If, in Nigeria and other parts of developing society, we aspire to “promote gender equality and empower women” (MDG-3), then we need to find out and talk about the issues that are important to women – not just avoiding death but coping with life.

RESPECTFUL MATERNITY CARE

The Miscarriage Support and Information Centre is part of the White Ribbon Alliance and our June Action of the month is focused on respectful maternity care.

In their power point presentation designed for healthcare workers, they make a very valid point, a point that I am particularly passionate about.

“The concept of ‘safe motherhood’ is usually restricted to physical safety, but safe motherhood is more than just the prevention of death and disability. It is respect for women’s basic human rights, including respect for women’s autonomy, dignity, feelings, choices, and preferences”.

When having to manage complications of pregnancy such as early or late miscarriage, healthcare workers are often driven by a need to do what they feel is best to prevent death and disability. However, in caring for a woman during such a traumatic time, it is important to work with her and not just “for her own good”. It is important that she understands what is going on and why. It is important, for example, to respect her wish to not undergo a surgical evacuation even though you may feel it is the best option.

In the survey I conducted in Lagos, Nigeria of the 25 women who had experienced a miscarriage, 21 remember being treated with sympathy and understanding by the hospital staff. However, only 14 women felt that medical professionals were not to blame for the pregnancy loss. Why the disparity?

I strongly believe that these 11 who did not excuse the healthcare workers involved in their care are the women who did not understand what was going on, were not consulted, had nothing explained to them and had no choice in how the miscarriage was handled. Hence, they believe something was not done right.

When asked, in the same survey, about attributes in their healthcare professionals that were very important, “includes you in the choice of treatment” was not ranked very high by these women respondents. However, “tells you all that is going on and why” was ranked very important with “explains in words you understand” ranked highest of all.

As 2015 draws closer and closer, it is very important that healthcare workers and policy makers recognise that when we go beyond preventing maternal deaths and work towards maternal healthcare that is respectful of women’s feelings, choices and dignity we will not only “improve maternal health” but we will also “promote gender equality and empower women”.

BREAKING BAD NEWS

As a House Officer, while on call we had a lady rushed into theatre for an emergency CS due to foetal bradycardia diagnosed on the CTG (i.e. the heart rate of the baby was reading about 80bts/min when a normal heart rate for a baby in the womb should be between 110 to 160bts/min). It turns out that the CTG (an out-of-date model compared to what is used in UK and the developed world) had been picking up the mother’s pulse and we delivered a macerated foetus (i.e. the baby had been dead for a while and was already decomposing – sorry for the graphic details).
It was left to the consultant paediatrician to leave the theatre and tell the father how a baby would not be coming out and why (the mother was under general anaesthesia and so was unaware of what had occurred).
Different guidelines on the management of pregnancy loss suggest that the most senior member of the team should break the news to the woman/couple wherever possible.
However, this raises a question for more junior doctors on the frontline of care. If, for example, you are the Medical Officer on NYSC (national service in Nigeria) posting and you are the first and only person most patients would see, how do you effectively deliver bad news? What qualifies you to deliver bad news? Can empathy only be gained with experience? Is that why the more senior health professionals should deliver bad news? If yes, does this mean that we will inevitably bungle up the delivery of bad news until we learn how to do it properly?
Personally, I was always uncomfortable with miscarriage and pregnancy loss. I am ashamed to admit that when I went in to see the mother the next day on my House Officer ward round, I could not look her in the eye, I did not offer my condolences for her loss; I just said, “good morning” and checked her vital signs. It wasn’t till I had experienced a loss myself and conducted the survey that I realised how lonely and scary such an experience could be. Empathy can really go a long way to make a difference in such instances.
While preparing for my PLAB exams (in order to be registered with the General Medical Council in the UK), breaking bad news was one of the skills I had to learn. It is also a module in BMJ Learning for continuing professional development. This is a topic that was never discussed while I was in medical school in Nigeria.
I don’t claim to know the answers to the who, how, when or why of the delivery of bad news. But I know that no matter what level you are at as a medical student, doctor, nurse or midwife, “I’m so sorry for your loss” is easy to say: there’s no law against that.