The story of Jesus' birth is celebrated with the manger and all. But historical records indicate that births at that time were surprisingly hygienic.
Every year, Christians around the world commemorate the traditional story of Jesus' birth with Nativity plays and Christmas celebrations. The celebrated event is described in the Gospel of Luke, where it is said that Mary "gave birth to her firstborn son, wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn". However, the biblical account lacks specific details about the Savior's birth, so scholars must look elsewhere. Documented births in ancient Rome from this period provide some intriguing insights into the practices of the era — including some surprisingly hygienic practices that remain common today, National Geographic reported.
Biblical scholars place the birth of Jesus sometime between 6 and 4 BC, when Judea and Bethlehem were part of the Roman Empire. In ancient Rome, women were present at the birth itself—neighbors, relatives, friends and slaves assisted the birthing woman depending on her ability and social status, says Anna Bonnell Freudin, a historian at the University of Michigan and author of the forthcoming book.
"If you look at our few depictions of childbirth from the Roman Empire, you'll notice that the scenes often emphasize the community of women, and I think that perspective is absolutely key to understanding the social nature of childbirth in the Roman world," says Freudin.
Midwives of the era, if the family could afford them, were often women who provided routine medical care to women and children, although there were also elite, educated midwives in the cities of the Roman Empire, she added.
The ancient Roman Empire was vast, and although each province was required to adhere to Roman law, specific cultural or religious practices were not usually imposed on communities. As a result, childbirth practices and antenatal customs may have differed. Before the birth, the parents-to-be may have worshiped different deities or offered different sacrifices depending on their religion. Jewish mothers, like Maria, would also have sought a Jewish midwife if the family had the money, because of the period's anti-Semitism and related concerns about the safety of mother and baby, says University of British Columbia historian Tara Mulder.
Midwives were even considered experts in the Roman legal system, although there was no formal certification or supervision of doctors or midwives, Mulder says.
Midwives of this period were advised to keep their fingernails short, wash their hands, and practice certain birthing practices that are still standard for hospital and home births.
Much of what historians know comes from funerary art and epigraphic signs, as well as correspondence and medical texts from the time. The Gynecology, the most comprehensive compendium of childbirth at the time, was written by the physician and medical author Soranus of Ephesus, who compiled the existing knowledge of midwives and added his own insights. It remains unclear whether the midwives were authors of their own works, as none of these texts, if they existed, have yet been discovered.
Some prenatal care is characterized by hygienic practices, but there are others that put both mother and fetus at risk. Soran's guidelines, for example, state that in the eighth month of pregnancy, midwives should help "relax the private parts" of expectant mothers with "vaginal suppositories of goose fat and marrow." To the modern eye, it is perhaps of little comfort that the text notes that the oils used on the expectant mother must be pure and not reused for cooking.
Overall, Mulder noted, there are many suggestions of inserting materials and tools that would increase the risk of infection, and although Soran mentions hand washing in the text, it doesn't specifically discuss what that means—say, simply rinsing, soaping, or lathering with oil and then scraping off the dirt.
