63 pages • 2-hour read
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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of death, gender discrimination, and graphic violence.
The novel uses the lens of home births and midwifery to explore real-world tension between alternative and institutionalized medicine. As in the real world, the conversation around home births in the novel is polarized, with alternative medicine practitioners viewing clinical settings as unnatural and oppressive and mainstream doctors viewing home births as inherently dangerous. These polarized views are reflected in the loaded imagery and vocabulary each side uses to justify its claims. For instance, an obstetrician in the novel compares a problematic labor to hitting “that patch of black ice and skid[ding] off the road” (19), while a midwife describes a hospital as a sterile, cold environment. The novel unpacks the nuances of each argument to show that the truth is far more complex.
Indeed, Sibyl herself has a nuanced take on home births, despite her dislike of institutionalized medicine. Sibyl always refers pregnancies she deems high-risk to a physician, B. P., even rushing mothers in need to the hospital when necessary—something only the snowstorm prevents her from doing in Charlotte’s case. For his part, B. P. does not deem all midwife-assisted births dangerous, noting that he trusts the judgment of a midwife as competent as Sibyl, with whom he has worked for over a decade. Just as importantly, B. P. notes that since some will always choose to labor at home, the system must support and train competent midwives. An us-versus-them approach is counterproductive and will only push women to hide home births or seek care from unmonitored channels.
B. P.’s argument also draws attention to the ways in which institutionalized medicine fails people—for instance, by pushing them into interventions that may not be necessary. In the novel, Sibyl and her midwife friends call a local obstetrician “Electrolux man—a reference to the skull cap-like vacuum physicians […] would apply to the infant’s cranium to help pull the child from the vagina—because he was so quick to make baby skulls look like turnips with his delivery room toys” (132). Hospitals also discourage the presence of more than one family member of the laboring person in the delivery room. Sibyl notes that one of her clients, Clarissa, wanted not only her husband but also her mother to assist in her labor, which Sibyl gladly allowed. More broadly, the novel implies that institutionalized medicine has often failed to account for women’s particular needs or even dehumanized female patients—a legacy encapsulated in what many characters see as hospitals’ overly controlling and technocratic approach to birth.
At the same time, the novel surfaces real drawbacks associated with alternative medicine, for example, Sibyl’s unfamiliarity with clinical signs of life and death. The solution, the novel suggests, is not to dismiss people’s push for alternative medicine but to make institutionalized settings more accessible, humane, and equitable. Connie does this in the novel, noting that although she does not “use an herb like blue cohosh, [she has] never once had a prenatal exam that took less than half an hour. [She] get[s] to know [her] mothers well” (173).
As a coming-of-age narrative, the novel explores how Connie’s life is irrevocably altered by the scandal that threatens her family in 1981. While Connie’s narrative is deeply affectionate toward her parents, it also conveys her sense of isolation. Connie opens the novel by noting the gulf between her parents’ perception and her reality, the first paragraph ending with the lines, “I overheard much more than my parents realized, and I understood more than they would have liked” (3). This immediately sets up a duality between Connie’s reality and the world of the grown-ups. Though well-meaning and loving, the adults do not fully grasp the ripple effects of Sibyl’s trial on Connie’s life, nor can they mitigate them.
Throughout the novel, Connie observes that her family’s scandal interrupts her adolescent development. Not only does she feel she must act more mature than she is in order to spare her parents pain, but she also gets away with actions that her parents would otherwise deem age-inappropriate. For instance, she observes that her parents do not notice when she comes home at two o’clock in the morning, as they would have in the pre-trial era. Her mother also allows her to drink black coffee, a drink previously forbidden. The coffee is a symbol of Connie’s forced maturation, and Connie casually notes that brewing coffee as an adult still brings back scenes from her mother’s trial. The family’s crisis leads to Connie becoming more fearful as well, constantly watching witnesses and jury members for bias against her mother. Her tears and cries when the jury enters the courtroom to deliver its verdict symbolize the crumbling of Connie’s façade.
The most lasting impact manifests in Connie’s choice of profession. When Connie analyzes this, she states that her familiarity with childbirth had little to do with it. In other words, Connie is unsure if she would have become an ob-gyn if Sibyl were not charged with involuntary manslaughter. “Clearly her cross was a factor in my decision” (172), Connie notes, referring to Sibyl’s possible role in Charlotte’s death, though she also clarifies that she did not choose her profession as a rebuke to midwifery. Equally important is Connie’s own action of removing the incriminating pages from Sibyl’s journal. Her teenage self performs the act out of a desire to save her mother, but the shadow of the decision haunts Connie for the rest of her life, and her job becomes, in her words, a form of “atonement.”
However, since Connie grows up to be an empathetic professional, the text does not present the impact of her crisis in a wholly negative light. Although growing up in the shadow of the family scandal changes Connie, it does not defeat her but rather molds her into someone highly attuned to the risks and rewards of delivering babies.
A particular exchange during Sibyl’s cross-examination reveals the manner in which the legal system attempts to construct the truth. When Sibyl tells Bill Tanner that she would never do anything to endanger a client, Tanner swiftly changes the verb, accusing Sibyl of not endangering but killing Charlotte. Stephen Hastings, Sibyl’s lawyer, yells out his objection, which the judge sustains, but the impression cast by the word “kill” cannot necessarily be undone. Tanner’s deliberate vocabulary is part of a broader pattern in which the legal system constructs rather than excavates the truth.
The novel repeatedly demonstrates how lawyers weaponize words, terms, and even processes to influence juries and judges. Tanner’s opening statement, too, is loaded with evocative words and images, such as when he states Sibyl had Charlotte push for a “nightmarishly long” time and finished the job by bringing out a “ten-inch knife with a sparkling six-inch blade” (268). Even seemingly inconsequential details—including the order in which witnesses are to appear—work to reinforce a particular narrative. The novel emphasizes this point by detailing the step-by-step manner in which legal truth emerges, beginning with the selection of the jury. Part of the selection is the questioning of potential jurors for bias, but the quest for neutrality is theoretical: Lawyers on both sides choose jurors who they believe will be sympathetic to their cause. For instance, Stephen briefly considers selecting people opposed to home births, suggesting that they may think Charlotte got what she deserved by choosing one.
The novel uses Connie’s narration to distinguish between the real, complex truth and the legal system’s simplification of it. Acting as the reader’s eyes and ears, Connie listens in on adults, catching information not meant for her, such as her discovery of Sibyl’s journals. Additionally, she has a child’s clear-eyed view of the truth hiding in plain sight. As an example, Connie can see that her mother gets a lucky break in the trial because Tanner never asks her the right question: “Is there absolutely no doubt in your mind that Charlotte Bedford was dead when you performed the cesarean?” (357). Her mother’s acquittal thus emerges not as justice but rather as a confluence of strategy, deception, and luck. At the same time, the novel implies that a guilty verdict would be similarly flawed, failing to account for the ambiguities of the case and influenced by Tanner’s vendetta against midwifery.
This suggests that the legal system’s failure to capture the full truth goes beyond courtroom tricks; rather, it is a function of the very structure of a trial, which forces complex realities into a binary of guilty or not guilty. The story that Connie tells in the book is significantly different from the legal verdict of her mother’s trial and emerges as an alternative form of truth—one more closely aligned with both the facts and the characters’ lived experiences.



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