The first time I experienced birth I was at a homebirth at the age of 8. The children were invited in only moments after baby was born. I was amazed at how tiny, purple-ish and new he was. Then we all ate lunch and it seemed so...normal.
Shortly after this experience my family moved to the country and I spent many days on the cattle farm next door. I could always be found in the barn. Not surprisingly then, the first birth I ever witnessed was that of a calf. There was none of the chaos that accompanied human sitcom births. She was peaceful and trusting and didn't need anyone else to interfere with a process that she seemed to know. She immediately licked her little bull calf when he was born and I thought...she just knows how to be a mother. It all seemed so ...normal.
My first experience giving birth was in a hospital. I was hooked up to heart rate monitors, drugs to make my uterus contract and the inability to move off my back.
My first delivery was not what I had anticipated, expected or hoped for.
Birth can be beautiful, it can also be traumatic. There were elements in this experience that were both.
Though when a healthy baby is the result women are silently encouraged to focus on that. The truth however is that the birth in itself can be separate from the baby. I had to grieve for the experience I did not have, heal from the regret of that loss and simultaneously rejoice in my new and perfect child whom I did not associate in the least with any of the negative aspects of his birth. They were in my mind, very separate.
The next time however, I knew better. With which I could do better. Empowerment is a wonderful thing.
The first thing I did was find a midwife. I didn't have a lot of expectations, only that it would be different.
I was placed with Anne. She was patient, kind and experienced. She was matronly and firm in her stance on many areas of birth. She talked to me about things I had no idea about prior and encouraged me to find out more. I began devouring birth stories. I had shied away from this in the past because there was a notion of fear associated with birth and I felt secure in my ignorance and my attitude of "I just have to get through it". She helped me begin to transform my thoughts.
I felt confident with her confidence.
"You were made to have babies" "You're body is perfectly designed to birth" "You are going to have a wonderful delivery".... I don't know if she was talking about all woman...or me specifically but I believed her. Those words became my inner thoughts.
About halfway into my second pregnancy Anne began working with student midwife Shirley. She had raised her children and had finished three degrees before coming into her realized calling of midwife. I was one of the last women she would work with before she would complete her training. Her level of experience was reassuring and so was her enthusiasm.
What stood out the most was not the warm atmosphere of the office, the excited energy of soon-to-be Mothers, or the lingering office visits where I never once felt rushed or pushed aside. It was the connection.
These woman were making an active effort to connect with me. I didn't realize it at first. It took me some time to realize that when they were asking me questions, they moved their chairs forward just slightly, caught my eye and HEARD me. They wanted to know.
I was a woman, preparing for birth. Not any birth. The birth of this specific child which would be subtly and exactly unlike any other birth. It would be uniquely his and we were valued. I was not just a number. I was not a patient. I was preparing for a most significant occasion and they wanted me to feel comfortable enough to allow them into the intimacy of that space. And I didn't even realize it until it happened.
I realized how attached I had become to these woman in the vision of my birth when at 41 weeks, Anne had an eye injury. She could not be present at my birth. She literally couldn't see. I was very disappointed at the notion that she would not be there.
I was introduced to another midwife who treated me with equal compassion, kindness and respect. I realized then...it wasn't that I had just formed a relationship with one woman...it was that midwives are simply different. They understood the needs of a woman, especially one past the date of expected delivery and have compassion in doses they must dole out in bottles at graduation.
Jacob's birth was beautiful. It is a memory I relive time and again as a favorite place to revisit. It was healing and it was exactly as I envisioned it would be.
A midwife (or two) at my side gave me the confidence to birth silently, powerfully and independently. I was able to listen to my body exactly without being pushed to do something that felt wrong or forced. It was slow, relaxed and comfortable. I loved this experience.
It felt normal.
We were excited to do it again.
I knew of course that to gain a coveted space with a midwife in my city you must call immediately. I hesitated to go back to the same midwives. I didn't have any particular reason, it had been a very positive experience, except for being compelled to call a new practice that had opened a little closer to my house.
I scrolled through the online midwife biographies and wondered who I would be placed with.
After the weeks of dry heaving, nauseous misery were behind me I was eagerly anticipating our first midwife appointment.
Monica was younger than the midwives I had worked with in the past. She was closer to my age and I wondered how the peer dynamic might make our relationship different.
But Monica...is a good listener. And she has great shoes (a quality not on my list of necessary midwife attributes but a bonus just the same).
I felt confident quite soon into our first meeting that she was very competent. She was knowledgeable in so many areas and had a balance of trusting a natural process and also utilizing all of the reassuring measures modern medicine provides without interrupting anything unnecessarily.
Once again I felt heard. And valued.
Isn't that what anyone ever wants. To simply feel like you matter?
To a midwife, you matter. Very much and so does your baby. They love you in the verb sense and they love your child. And for that, you love them in every sense.
I only had two appointments with Monica before Jon's cancer diagnosis. I was in shock for months. I have missing gaps of time that I am only sure existed because the calender says they did. I don't have a lot of memories of that time but I remember Sobbing to Monica...and not feeling stupid.
I only felt like she cared. And I didn't have to convince her of anything. She was there to support my choices, facilitate my induction, consult with an OB...or not, in the end but she rode the roller coaster with me.
I shared my concern with Jon not being able to attend the birth. I was so afraid of him missing it. I desperately wanted him there. The thought of going to the hospital without him was so lonely.
"I don't want to have to go by myself. I don't want to be alone".
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye... "You won't be alone. I will be there".
For some reason I was so focused on Jon NOT being there that I forgot that she WOULD be. My fear and anxiety quickly diminished and I, who does not trust easily, trusted Monica completely.
I wondered how many diverse experiences one must have to acquire the grace and composure to know exactly when to listen, when to speak and what to say? Monica seemed to have this down.
I am most in awe of people who do things I cannot. ...knitters, police officers, singers, cart-wheelers...and those on the other side of the birth.
If the pre care is any indication of what to expect during the birth, it would be fair to say that I was more than supported. by both Monica and Amanda who also was present. In certain circumstances, of obvious discomfort...of the awkward variety, they had a knack of making a procedure seem as casual as shoe shopping.
At one point...after she had delivered my child, found me a sandwich, gave me a tour of my placenta, changed my hospital gown, cleaned up more body fluid then I knew could come out of one person I found her kneeling in front of me, padding my underwear for me and trying to encourage my bladder to work again.
I looked down at her...and thought what kind of person does this?!
Someone uniquely special.
Midwifery is certainly a calling.
I wrote my birth story in a slightly tongue and cheek fashion but truthfully when I think of Monica "awesome and amazing" are close behind.
For the next few days Monica came to our home, visited, chatted, listened to me cry (oh yes...some more...) because my baby wouldn't breastfeed.
Ella didn't care that her Mother felt so strongly about breastfeeding that I fed her a BOTTLE under a blanket at the playground because I was so disheartened by it. Would I be able to get away with that at my Le Leche League meeting?!
Monica listened...like she does... and then gently told me that I COULD get her to breastfeed. And if I couldn't...well...I was still a really good mom.
Funny how sometimes you need to hear it. Because it really does matter what other people think even if it is something I already know.
I did what Monica suggested. What I would have told another mom to do...but in my vulnerability needed the telling. I stayed in bed with my baby until she breastfed.
And she did. By our next visit, baby Ella who had been 100% bottle fed (she REALLY refused to latch!) was now...with some firm and gentle encouragement 100% breastfed.
This was something hugely important to me but if I did not have a midwife, we would not have been successful.
Yesterday Ella was 6 weeks old.
In midwifery care this is a sad day. This is discharge day.
The cutting of the midwifery cord.
Your midwife will get more babies, but for the mamas...it is a hard goodbye!
I stalled that moment and wondered how I could ask if we were like...allowed to be friends...or something...
.
It has been such a difficult journey this year. but I have found so
much love around us. People who have literally held me up when my own
legs couldn't carry me. I am so grateful to the examples of these
people. I will come away from this year a humbled and better
person because of what I learned from them.
As I come full circle then. From the first positive pregnancy test to a final hug from my midwife I am left with immense gratitude for which I have no way of repaying, except to pass it on. Fortunately the nearest person and most obvious choice is our babies. When babies are born to Mothers who are supported, nurtured and loved they are better prepared to Mother those babies.
This is why midwifery healed my experience of birth, I would encourage anyone even thinking of having a baby to look into their birth choices. Maybe you will choose a midwife! It has been for me a cherished experience.
***There are so many ways to have a beautiful birth. To a high risk woman, or a baby in distress the skilled OB with a scalpel is invaluable. Many L&D nurses also fall into the category of angels for what they do above and beyond what their job description entails. This certainly isn't a post that should be perceived as being so for something that it simultaneously is against something else. Not at all. I only wanted to share my wonderful experience and explain a little more what to expect from midwifery care. I talk to moms frequently who don't know that they can still deliver in hospital, that midwives can refer babies to pediatricians, and order multiple medical testing and ultrasound during pregnancy. My experience this way was one that I hope others can have as well, regardless of how they attain it...my specific path though came with midwives:)
