BLOG: The Tudor Queen's Midwife

My husband and I were never able to have children, and so whenever I describe a birth in one of my novels, I always wind up having to do a whole lot of research to determine what doctors or midwives did in the given period. How fortunate women are in our day and age, as births are more routine. Even c-sections are "no big deal", with women being discharged from the hospital in no time at all.

Hundreds of years ago, including the Tudor period, Queens and women of high standing were expected to provide heirs. Everyone knows of the tragedy of Anne Boleyn and her fate at the hands of Henry VIII. This week, I'm delighted to host Brigitte Barnard, whose new book THE TUDOR QUEEN'S MIDWIFE tells the story of one woman--a midwife-- attached to Henry VIII's first wife, Catherine of Aragon.

I requested Brigitte to share a little information with us on what childbirth during the Tudor age was like. There are some surprising facts she shares , as well as an overview of a typical birth's progression and how things were handled. Personally, I think this is one of the most interesting posts I've had in the Journal for a long time. Thanks, Brigitte! And welcome to Brook's Journal!

A Royal Tudor Birth

By Brigitte Barnard

When the hour of the birth was at hand the queen’s midwives took over. Young, unmarried women were not thought fit to witness the labor and birth, and were ushered out of the birthing chamber. The remaining ladies helped to make the queen comfortable during the first stage of labor, taking turns walking with her and encouraging her during painful contractions. It was thought to be prudent to loosen all fastenings and untie any ribbons, in order to allow the labor to progress unencumbered.

The midwives would have stood back observing the pace of the labor, allowing the queen the freedom to do as her body commanded. If the first stage dragged on too long the midwife might have given the queen a concoction of labor stimulating herbs such as pennyroyal, galbanum resin, motherwort, mugwort or rue. These herbs could be very potent and would have been used with considerable caution. Another method of helping a sluggish labor along would have been to check the baby’s position in the womb; if a head was not firmly pressing down on the mouth of the womb, the contractions would not serve to open the cervix.

A small adjustment made to the infant’s head could rapidly change the speed of labor. Many readers will be surprised by what I am going to say now; a breech baby would not pose a problem as long as the presenting part was the child’s buttocks. A bottom serves to dilate the cervix the same way the head does. As long as the baby’s head is flexed down with the chin toward the chest, the delivery is straightforward. Unusual presentations like a footling breech or a transverse lie would have been repositioned long before the start of labor by the midwife, unless the child refused to be moved in which case there would be a significant chance of a bad outcome. These situations were uncommon but very problematic.

The odds of survival were very good barring any unusual circumstances, with survival for the mother hovering between 75-90%. Infant mortality was higher, more than twenty five percent perished in the first year of life due to a number of factors including disease. The Tudor queens were very likely to have had religious relics with them in labor such as icons or a girdle rumored to have been worn by the Virgin Mary. These objects were believed to have special protective powers and probably helped the queens to have something to focus on during difficult moments. Once the moment of transition was at hand the midwife may have encouraged the queen to sit upon the birthing stool, but moving a woman in this stage of labor is easier said than done. Positions for labor would have included hands-and-knees, side-lying with the upper leg supported by the attending midwife, or she would be sat down upon the aforementioned stool. Oil may have been applied to the perineum to ease the head out. Immediately following the birth, the midwife would clear the infant’s breathing passages by applying suction with her own mouth. A lady-in-waiting would inform the Lord Great Chamberlain of the birth who would then inform the king.

Then the cord would be tied with thread and cut with the midwife’s knife; a tool used specifically for this purpose. I found many interesting pieces of superstition around the navel cord such as, “If it [the cord] have any wrinkles in it, then so many children shall the woman have in time to come.” Likewise many believed that carrying a piece of the string would keep them safe from disease.

After tying and cutting the umbilical cord the midwife would deliver the placenta. The placenta would be examined carefully by the midwives for any missing pieces and then put aside to be buried later. Then the midwives would clean the baby with anything from milk mixed with warm water to wine. Even butter could be used to clean a newborn baby with. Then the swaddling bands were wrapped around the baby and royal children dressed in fine clothing. Finally the child would receive a sprinkle of salt and a cross traced over it before a coin was placed in its cradle or hand.

While the midwives were attending to the newborn baby, the queen’s women would help her to have a sponge bath and get dressed in a fresh nightgown. Linen towels would be placed between her legs, held in place with a sling and tied around the queen’s hips below her abdomen. Her hair would be brushed and arranged and she could now lie down in her richly appointed State bed sitting up supported by bolsters and many pillows. Once she was clean and presentable the king would be allowed to visit his wife and baby.

  ALL ABOUT THE BOOK

In the glamorous, glittering and dangerous court of king Henry VIII and his queen Katherine of Aragon, the desperate desire for a healthy male heir overshadows all. Plagued by a series of miscarriages the queen is left grappling with the weight of her singular duty to provide a son for the Crown. Amidst this turmoil the queen turns to Sarah Menendez, the most highly skilled midwife in England. Sarah, exiled from her homeland and concealing her true identity must serve the queen and battle her deepest fears. As Sarah strives to save the queen from the perils of childbirth, the specter of her own past threatens to unravel the carefully crafted identity Sarah has created for herself and her young daughter.

  In a world where power, politics and religion collide, Sarah finds herself entangled in a web of intrigue and deadly danger. The fate of the queen’s unborn child, the survival of the midwife and her daughter, and the stability of the kingdom hang in the balance. Sarah Menendez must employ all of her skills, cunning and courage to protect those she holds dear as well as the life of the queen and her unborn child.

The Tudor Queens’ Midwife is a gripping tale of secrecy, sacrifice and religious turmoil amongst the most opulent court the world has ever seen. 

ALL ABOUT BRIGITTE

Brigitte Barnard is an amateur historian of Renaissance English history and an author of the trilogy The Tudor Queens' Midwife, of which the first book in the series is available. She is currently writing a non-fiction book about Tudor midwifery for Pen and Sword publishing house.

Brigitte is a former homebirth midwife, and she lives at home with her husband and four children. She also raises Cavalier King Charles spaniels.

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