Choice of wet nurse

Jane Sharp has a lot to say about breast feeding and choosing a wet nurse. She says

‘... the mother’s milk is commonly best agreeing with the child; and if the mother does not Nurse her own Child, it is a question whether she will ever love it so well ... and without doubt the child will be much alienated in his affections by sucking of strange Milk, and that may be one great cause of Children’s proving so undutiful to their Parents.’

She could have a point - the close contact between mother and child during breast feeding is said to enhance bonding.  That's if all is going well, though.  If there are major problems and the mother is struggling to feed come what may, that may be counterproductive.

Jane goes on to say that many babies die because the nurses’ milk is bad. The choice of a wet nurse, she says, is crucial, and gives the following advice.

‘... beware you choose not a woman that is crooked, or squint-eyed, nor with a mishapen Nose, or body, or with black ill-favoured Teeth, or with stinking breath ... or the child will soon be squint-eyed by imitation ...’

She advocates a ‘...sanguine complexioned woman, her breasts and nipples handsome, and well proportioned ... not too tall, nor too low; not fat, but well flesht; of a ruddy, merry, cheerful, delightsome countenance. If the nurse use good Diet and Exercise, it will breed good blood, and good blood makes good milk; but let her forbear all sharp, sowr, fiery, melancholy meats, of Mustard and Onyons, or Leeks and Garlick; and let her not drink much strong drink, for that will inflame the Child, and make it cholerick: all Cheese breeds melancholy, and Fish is Flegmatick. Gross and thick air make gross blood, and heavy bodies and dull wits. Places that are near the Sea side, and Bogs, are very sickly.’

Wet nurses in the middle ages

Wet nurses were often employed in the middle ages to provide milk for babies whose mothers were unwilling or unable to breast feed. For example, wealthy and noble women often chose not to breast feed. Breast feeding is a natural contraceptive as the hormones that produce milk prevent ovulation – nature’s way of ensuring a mother can give her resources to nurture one child at a time. But noble women were expected to produce as many babies as possible to ensure a good supply of heirs.

Furthermore, breast feeding would probably cramp the style of these socially active women. I suppose the sight of the Countess of Wherever baring a breast at the King’s court to suckle a screaming child would be the medieval equivalent of breast feeding in a posh restaurant today.

Wet nurses were also employed by ordinary working families, usually if the mother had died, or was for some other reason unable to produce enough milk. The alternatives to breast feeding – soaking rags in animal’s milk and squeezing them into the baby’s mouth, or tipping in milk from a horn cup – tended rather towards fatality.

Wet nurses were often highly valued, especially in large wealthy households where they were usually regarded as one of the upper servants, and might stay with the family for years. Many life long bonds were formed between nurse and child.

The practice of wet nursing became less popular in the 19th century due in part to scares that diseases such as tuberculosis and syphilis could be transferred by breast milk. Better alternatives to mother’s milk slowly became available but children fed on these still had a much higher mortality rate than those who were breast fed.

The next blog will be about what Jane Sharp had to say regarding the choice of a wet nurse.

Churching

Until the discovery of such things as antibiotics and blood transfusions, childbirth was highly dangerous (and, of course, still is in many areas of the world).

About a month after delivery, a mother, and her friends, would go to church in thanksgiving for having come safely through the hazards of childbirth. The baby, if it survived, would be brought along too for blessing. The child might be christened then, but more likely, it had already been baptized within days or even hours after birth.

The priest met the woman at the church porch to say prayers over her as she knelt, purifying her from the contaminations of childbirth. Until the ceremony, she was considered too polluted to enter a church. Thus cleansed, she would be allowed into the church for blessings and thanksgivings. Thereafter, she was deemed fit to return into society and work, and would also be available to her husband again.

Although dangerous in terms of thrombosis and embolism, her long lying in period gave the new mother a respite from work in the fields or other heavy work, and also time off from sexual intercourse. She had time to recover from pregnancy and labour. Sore perineums could heal, a healthy blood supply restored and breast feeding established, all in peace and quiet. Well, probably not total peace, as the woman’s friends would be in and out all day, keeping her company and helping her husband with the household chores. Or, more probably, doing the chores.

Some feminists regard the de-polluting aspects of the churching ceremony as yet another instance of the church’s suspicion and condemnation of sexually active women, and there is certainly truth in this. Purification ceremonies are still common in many countries. In the UK, however, although churching may still be performed in a modified format (being more of a blessing and thanksgiving rather than a purification), church-going women in the UK nowadays rarely bother.

This is in apparent contrast to the attitudes of medieval women. Evidently, they looked forward to the churching ceremony. It was a milestone in their lives, a ‘rite of passage’; a social occasion and, above all, a great celebration of life.

Here’s a bit more from Jane Sharp – ‘What must be done after the woman is delivered.’

‘... she may not use a full diet after so great loss of blood suddenly, as she grows stronger she may begin with meats of easie digestion, as Chickens, or Pullets; she may drink small wines with a little Safforn, Mace and Cloves infused, equal parts, all tied in a piece of linnen ... if the child be a boy she must lye in thirty dayes, if a girl forty daies, and remember that it is the time of her purification that her husband must abstain from her.’

Lying in meant, quite literally, that the woman lay in bed for several weeks. (As recently as the 1940s, women lay in for at least 9 days after delivery and often a lot longer). This is now known to be dangerous because clotting factors in the blood are naturally increased during pregnany. Prolonged inactivity after childbirth encourages blood clots to form in the deep veins of the legs. When the woman did eventually get out of bed and start moving around, danger was these blood clots would start travelling around the body. If they lodged in the lungs, a fatal pulmonary embolism might be the result. And then everyone would say – See, she got up too soon!

But I imagine many women would have risen from their beds, either from necessity - apart from using the pot! - or boredom, although they would probably have remained confined to their room, house or cottage. Whatever the woman’s station in life, there would be plenty of help available, either hired help, or friends and neighbours. Until quite recently, birth was a communal affair; women helped out at each other’s confinements and lyings in. A birth was a very social occasion!

The purification Jane Sharp mentions is the churching ceremony, which I’ll write about next blog.

Jane Sharp had been a midwife in England for about 30 years when she wrote ‘The Midwives Book’ in 1671 (which has been reprinted by OUP: Women Writers in English 1350 – 1850, and edited by Elaine Hobby).

Here is an extract from the original book:
‘What must be done after the woman is delivered.
‘It will be profitable when a woman hath had sore travel (ie, travail, or labour) to wrap her back with a sheep-skin newly flayed off ,and let her ly in it, and to lay a Hare-skin, rub’d over with Hares blood newly prepared, to her belly; let these things be worn two hours in the winter, and but one hour in Summer, for these will close up the parts too much dilated by the childs birth, and will expel all ill melancholly blood from these parts.’

The reference to ‘melancholly blood’ is about the theory of humours, believed at that time. (These theories were developed by Aristotle and Galen, philosophers and physicians from ancient times). The four humours that circulated around the body were blood, choler, melancholy and phlegm, and the health of individuals depended upon the balance of these humours. Also, the humours determined the outlook of an individual – for instance, an optimistic person’s temperament may still in this day and age be described as sanguine (or bloody), or people may be said to be choleric or phlegmatic.

The balance of humours controlled the heat of the body. Men were usually hotter and drier than women, and therefore naturally superior. Indeed, it was the heat of their bodies that forced their genitalia to the outside. Women were colder and therefore their reproductive organs were kept within their bodies. Because of their cold, wet nature, women needed frequent sex. Their lust could be dangerous for men, sapping their strength and threatening their morals.

Jane Sharp believed that midwifery belonged exclusively to women. This was in a time when men – physicians and barber surgeons in particular – realised that man-midwifery could be a lucrative profession and were starting to muscle in. More on that later.

More on the Rosengarten and The Byrth of Mankind

Rosslin considered midwives of his time to be responsible for many maternal deaths, and wrote this textbook, the Rosengarten, for them. In fact, the Rosengarten was very much based upon the writings of the Greek physician Soranus, who practised medicine in Rome round about 100AD. (The original copy of Soranus’ writings is now in the Vatian library). Much of the medical literature at that time was just rehashed and recycled from the great writers of Greek and Roman times, such as Aristotle and Galen, and Rosslin acknowledges the ancient authorship of much of the book. He also included new material, however, incorporating what he regarded as good midwifery practice, told to him, no doubt, by midwives. Perhaps there were some whose practice he respected, and to whom he would listen.
The book became a best seller in Germany. The fact that this book was widely used by midwives indicates they were far more literate than widely believed. One of the reasons sometimes given as to why medieval women were not allowed to study at universities is that they said to be were illiterate, but this seems by no means always to have been the case.
The Rosengarten was translated into English and published there in 1540 under the title of “The Byrth of Mankind”. It was dedicated to Queen Katherine Howard.

The Rosengarten

This illustration is taken from The Rosengarten (roughly translated as The Rosegarden for Pregnant Women and Midwives), written by Eucharius Rosslin, a German physician. He wrote the book in the early 1500s specifically for midwives, in an effort to improve their practice.
He instructs that a chair should be made so that the mother might recline in it. The chair should be padded with cloths, and the mother covered. At the right time, the covering should be removed and the mother turned from one side to the other. The midwife is to sit in front of the chair and pay careful attention to how the mother is moving, controlling her legs with her hands previously coated with, for example, white lily oil, or almond oil. The midwife must encourage the mother with gentle words, exorting her to breathe deeply, ensuring she takes nourishing food and drink, and massaging lightly just above the the navel towards the hips. She should comfort the mother with the happy prospect of birthing a boy!

Talking to a friend about midwifery the other day I repeated the oft quoted mantra 'Everyone needs a midwife!'

He laughed and said he didn't think he did. But of course, he had, far before he could remember.

Everyone who has ever lived needs or needed a midwife at some point in their lives. (Whether or not they got one is, of course, a different matter).

Another oft-quoted saying is that midwifery is the second oldest profession. I beg to differ. I believe it is the oldest. (I'd be happy to concede prostitution as the second. Maybe).

So, the history of midwifery and midwives stretches back to the beginnings of humanity. I don't aim to go back quite that far in this blog! I'm going to start with the medieval period in Europe, mainly because that's where my primary interest lies at the moment.

Please comment, or add any snippets of information, or questions.