Carol Gill undergoing pre-natal abdominal decompression therapy at her home in Letchworth Garden City, May 1968.
During the final months of my mother’s pregnancy with me in 1968, she took part in a medical trial being conducted by her paediatrician, Dr. Faulkes.
The trial required my mother to spend about 30 minutes each day in a plastic bubble covered by an air-tight sleeping bag connected to an air pump (probably fashioned from a modified vacuum cleaner motor!). The pump sucked the air out of the enclosure, creating a mild vacuum inside the bag and lowering the atmospheric pressure on my mother’s abdomen and the unborn child, i.e. me.
The goal of this clinical trial was to establish whether abdominal decompression during pregnancy and labour could result in:
- Easier, safer pregnancies
- Shorter, less painful labour/labour
- Healthier, brighter children
Unfortunately my parents never discovered the results of the trial or even whether it was completed; Dr. Faulkes never followed up after my birth to see if the decompression had achieved the desired results.
I rediscovered the photo of my mother pregnant with me in the decompression machine when I first started putting together my personal website, and became very interested in the technique of abdominal decompression during pregnancy and labour. What was the idea behind it? What was it supposed to achieve? How was it supposed to work? And were there other people like me?
After researching some of the literature, I discovered that the technique of abdominal decompression during pregancy and childbirth was pioneered in the 1960’s in South Africa by a Dr. O.S. Heyns. The technique then spread to the United Kingdom and the United States, and more than 10,000 decompression babies were born before abdominal decompression fell out of medical vogue in those countries (although I’ve since heard that it’s still widely practiced in Slovenia, where it’s offered for free by their national health service!).
So did it work in my case? First, here is what my mother had to say about my birth (which was also her first childbirth):
I knew something was happening from the beginning of the day (Sunday), just niggly little pains. It was not until around 9pm that I first called the midwife but she didn’t come out and said it would be hours yet! It was after midnight when we rang her again and by the time she arrived it was too late to use the decompression unit to offer relief during labour. You were born around 3.45pm. The doctor was called and he appeared with his trousers over his pyjamas and sat in the corner of the bedroom with a cup of tea at his elbow, a cigarette in one hand and you cradled in his other arm. He did not come out for the birth of any of the other three [my younger siblings] – it was just because I had been using the decompression unit.
So, nothing too conclusive about the effects of decompression on the actual childbirth there — either the midwife was too late arriving or I was too early for my mother to get into the decompression machine for the birth!
But what about the “healthier, brighter children” claim?
“Decompression baby” Tony Gill in pram at 5 months’ old, 26 October 1968
I was a big, healthy baby, and continue to be in good health 44 years (and counting) later, but I can’t claim to have ever been physically exceptional in any way — I never excelled at any sporting or athletic activities at school, for example. I also have slightly high blood pressure, and was diagnosed with sleep apnea some years ago.
However, I do remember being an extremely smart kid when I was young — almost to the point of precociousness, in fact — and was consistently in the top 2 or 3 students in my class at school, right up until it stopped being cool to be clever around 11 or 12 years’ old. Obviously I don’t know how much the decompression contributed to my childhood intellect, but I remember feeling quite a lot smarter than most of my peers when I was at infant school.
I don’t claim to be a genius as an adult, and have never taken an official IQ test, but I have both bachelor’s and master’s degrees, was enrolled for several years on a Ph.D research programme in the late nineties (which I abandoned in order to move to the United States in 1999), and was a part-time Adjunct Assistant Professor at NYU’s Graduate School of Arts & Sciences until I became a father myself a few years ago — so I think it’s fair to assume that I am of above average intelligence.
Of course, this is purely anecdotal evidence, and cannot in itself validate the efficacy of prenatal abdominal decompression. Only a scientifically rigorous clinical trial could do that.
But personally, I do believe decompression made a difference, which is why I created this website — I believe the technique could potentially have wide-reaching benefits, and deserves to be re-evaluated, rigorously and scientifically.
Tony Gill
I first read about abdominal decompression in 1966, I believe, in an article in a science magazine like Popular Science or Science and Mechanics. I felt prompted to write a letter to Dr. Heyns at the University of Witwatersrand in South Africa. He was gracious enough to write me back, along with some papers containing research data, which I still have somewhere. What fascinated me was, as the magazine stated, the idea that children from the decompression group tended to be geniuses. You seem to have added strength to that claim. I just find it a shame that the practice was never continued. This world needs more intelligent people.
Many thanks for your comment, Robert! If you happen to come across the research papers and have access to a scanner, I’d be happy to make them available here.
Hi. I found this website really helpful as my mum talks vaguely about “decompression” and “that’s why you’re so intelligent”(!) I had done searches before to see if this was actually a thing, so was very happy to finally find something to explain what it was.
I was born in 1970 in London. My mother’s story of childbirth is pretty much exactly what my story was with my son in 2008, so I’m not sure there was much difference there. I’m not very physically sporty or strong, my health is good except I have asthma. I did quite well at school and, although I haven’t pursued an academic career, people tell me they think I’m intelligent and I have found I can take to most things academically.
Thanks for your info.
Glad you found the info on this site helpful Leila, and apologies for taking so long to reply!
I first came across Decompression studies in South Africa in England in 1967,
wrote for more information, and made my own Decompression Suit for my wife which she used for all 4 of my children. All were supper healthy, successful and for an example, my oldest daughter is the mother of six great children; my eldest son has his Doctorat in Thermodynamics and words at the Navel Relsearch Lab, has 4 children, all healthy and smart. I, last night gave my grand daughter my decompression suit to use on her first child. I have no doubt my great grand son will be healthy with a high DQ.
Thanks for sharing your fantastic decompression story Steve (and apologies it’s taken me 7 years to respond!) — your family may be the only multi-generational family of decompression babies in the World!
I used abdominal decompression in 1968 for a painless labour of a breech 10lb baby. I wish it was available for labour now.
Apparently it’s available in Slovenia and Russia, Anne!
It’s only in the last few years speaking to my father about my birth & understanding the loss of my twin I discovered that some doctors wanted to terminate me after the loss of my twin but there was one doctor/consultant who was determined to give me a chance so
She offered my mum to have decompression treatment in the Middlesex hospital.
Am 46 now & taking everything what my father has told I count my self very lucky & to having given a chance to live.
It’s great to hear that others just like me are doing well in there fields of life.
I would love to meet that doctor/consultant who made that firm decision to give me that small chance to live, just to say thank you.
My father said she was a bit upset just before I was due to be born my father had a new job and the whole family moved from London to Caerphilly.
My mother carried me for 11 months & I had Ginger hair down to my bottom, my dear late mum (Jacqueline. I. Langdon) deserved a gold medal for never giveniing up.
My only health issue is that it’s been detected from my latest MRI scan that I have a birth defect in my knees which I will now need surgery to correct so I can maintain walking.
It’s only in the last few years speaking to my father about my birth & understanding the loss of my twin I discovered that some doctors wanted to terminate me after the loss of my twin but there was one doctor/consultant who was determined to give me a chance so
She offered my mum to have decompression treatment in the Middlesex hospital.
Am 46 now & taking everything what my father has told I count my self very lucky & to have been given a chance to live.
It’s great to hear that others just like me are doing well in there fields of life.
I would love to meet that doctor/consultant who made that firm decision to give me that small chance to live, just to say thank you.
My father said she was a bit upset just before I was due to be born my father had a new job and the whole family moved from London to Caerphilly.
My mother carried me for 11 months & I had Ginger hair down to my bottom, my dear late mum (Jacqueline. I. Langdon) deserved a gold medal for never giveniing up.
My only health issue is that it’s been detected from my latest MRI scan that I have a birth defect in my knees which I will now need surgery to correct so I can maintain walking.
Wow, 11 months — that’s amazing Gareth! I doubt they would allow that now, at least not in the U.S. (my wife was just two weeks past due before our OB/GYN doctor basically insisted on doing a C-Section).
I enjoyed reading your article as little has been known about the decompression bag in pregnancies. I had a placenta previa during labour with my first child in in South Africa in 1974, which required an emergency Caesar to save both the child and myself. To avoid this from happening again, my gynae, Dr Rothschild, recommended the decompression bag which I used in my next three pregnancies, to improve the blood flow to the placenta. I used the bag once or twice daily for 30 mins for the sole purpose to prevent another placenta previa from occurring. As I had four caesars, I can’t tell you if the decompression bag was helpful with labour pains, but it certainly helped to produce three bright children. My first child thankfully survived the trauma and is a healthy 45 year old today. So in my case, I’m very grateful for having the assistance of the good old decompession bag, eventhough it felt as though your tummy was being sucked into a vacuum!
Thanks for sharing Irene!
In 1971 I attended the Mothers Hospital in Clapton to have decompression treatment twice a week. I suffered sickness morning, noon & night and was told my baby was ‘small for dates’, and that the decompression would help her grow. She was born weighing just 6lb, losing weight after as she had severe yelllow jaundice. Do wish I had asked more questions but we just didn’t in those days. Have to say having the treatment wasn’t pleasant.
Hi Maureen — that’s odd that you describe the treatment as unpleasant, as my mother found it quite relaxing. Certainly not uncomfortable or painful in any way — she basically just sat in a chair at home with an airtight sleeping bag connected to a vacuum pump for 20 or so minutes a day while enjoying a tea break, but it was a very mild vacuum effect.
Could you elaborate on why you found the treatment unpleasant? Was it uncomfortable? Painful?
My wife was expecting twins, and to prevent premature birth, she was put in one of these each day ,for the last 3 weeks, 50 years ago in Trelisk Truro , the twins were born this day 1971 , but due to their size, 6lb 10 and 7 lb 6, my wife went into a coma, but did survive.
No one else has heard of this , until I saw this.
Yes, we decompression babies appear to be part of a very select and rather hidden global club! 🙂
Hi Tony,
I was part of that experiment too (born in Joburg 1966)
I can relate to your being a smart/gifted kid bit, but also fizzled a bit in my later primary school days. I sometimes wonder if that smart burst made me lazier in the end though. I’m sure it’s had some sort of effect in adulthood and would love to know more.
Lynda.
Hi Lynda! Yes, if I recall correctly that “super-smart in early childhood before eventually normalizing” effect was the outcome predicted by O.S. Heyns as a result of prenatal abdominal decompression — it provides a bit of a head start academically, but doesn’t create “super-babies” (as some of the more breathless hype of the time would have you believe!).
I too was a decompression suit baby. My mother met the professor that created the concept out in South Africa. I was born in 1972. I am not an academic but learning came easily to me and I excelled academically in my school years. I now develop and create training to upskill school teachers throughout the world. One of my teacher training courses was delivered to 329,000 teachers in 43 countries. My mother is now 83 years old and she is convinced that being a decompression suit baby gave me that creative brain and outside box thinking mindset.
I was a fairly “big” baby (more than 9 pounds), it was a forceps birth and a very difficult labour but I’ve been told how relaxed and calm I was as a baby and toddler.
It’s lovely to meet other decompression suit babies here!
Melanie, I realize your original comment is over a year old now, but if your mother is still alive (hope so!) and would like to contribute to this site, I’d be happy to publish her reminiscences (written or spoken) here on this website!
My mother has recently told me that I was a ‘decompression baby’. I was born in St Mary’s, Paddington, in February 1968. She relayed the story as a traumatic event which caused her to be depressed and anxious, and that she underwent the treatment against her will. My mother said it was supposed to ‘create intelligent babies’, but in my case it certainly didn’t facilitate an easy birth. As it happpened I was born by emergency cesearian. She believes the misery it caused her was instrumental in our failing to have a close relationship to this day.
It is really interesting reading the entries here. I was seemingly very intelligent in my early years, learning came easily to me, and I was regularly doing ‘O’ level maths papers at the age of 11, as my teacher didn’t know what else to give me to do (in a small rural school in Cornwall by then, in a year group of 5).
Whatever intelligence I had, then just seemed to evaporate beyond the age of 11. I struggled, especially with maths, and scraped through with a C at ‘O’ level in 1984. As an adult, I wouldn’t say I was ‘intelligent’; perhaps a little above average, but I would say that I have an ability to think outside the box, and have a broad range of interests and knowledge.
Regarding health: I have always been asthmatic, but started rowing at the age of 28, and have been very successful competeing in my amateur sport, even now at the age of 56.
What intrigued me most, is that my Mother reported the treatment almost as torture, so I’m heartened to find that there are so many less hideous stories here, and perhaps there is hope for me yet!
Hi Kathleen, thanks for sharing your story! This is the first time I’ve heard the prenatal abdominal decompression treatment described as “traumatic” — the procedure was completely painless according to my mother, with boredom at being forced to sit still for periods of time being her main complaint! Perhaps the fact that your mother felt that she underwent the treatment against her will coloured her perception?
As for your intellectual advantage evaporating beyond childhood, this is normal and was expected by the doctors who came up with the treatment (I, too, remember having to put more effort into school as I grew into adolescence and beyond, whereas it felt almost effortless to learn as a younger child).