I have been in another state, for almost 5 weeks now, visiting my sweet sister-in-law, Dawn, so I can be here with her when she has her baby. She went into labor and had her baby last night, finally at 42 weeks. She was amazing, had a very short active labor, and a very long pushing stage which ended up needing intervening, and ended in a huge laceration to her bottom. She is at the hospital right now getting stitches, for a tear I felt was outside my scope to repair. I am heartsore. This is not what I came here (planet earth, not necessarily to Dawn's house) for. Babies are supposed to find their way out. I KNOW in my brain that I am supposed to be at these births, that these families invite me to be part of their sacred space not only for the genuine servants heart I possess, but also my skill set. I try VERY hard to be as unobtrusive as I can be at births, encouraging moms to do things their way, call the shots, own their bodies and birth their babies in their power. This is the midwife that I was called to be. There are only a handful of pictures of me at birth, because I am committed to being the servant in the background, the one holding the space so the family can bloom in their own natural way. My clients have started taking photos during the baby exam, and I'm ok with these photos, and they seem to be sentimental for the families.

I have had to intervene in one way or another in the last 4 births, at the end. What is the universe trying to show me? Each time it was almost spiritual how my hands knew what to do before my brain did. Tonight I am grieving. I went into this birth with an expectation, which is never something I do, and I am disappointed. If I'm disappointed, how is my SIL feeling? Did I let her down? Does she feel like she owned her birth, birthed in her power, or was I the midwife who swept in and saved the day, or worse, intervened when I might have had my own motivations or fear.  I remember my brain saying "This baby is not coming out like this" after 2 hours of very vigorous, exhausting pushing.  Was that my connection to spirit that shared that nugget with me, or was it my ego-let-me-help-this-along?  I guess only I have the answer to this question, but it certainly would be easier if someone would just hand me the golden ticket, with the answer on it.  I'm tired, and just cant seem to quite get my physical or emotional feet under me.

I am not sure why I am having such a difficult time this time around, maybe it is because it is family.  Maybe it is because I had such an impact on Dawn as a young woman, that she has gone on to be a doula and trained as a midwife's assistant.  She has asked me several times if she can come apprentice to me.  I wanted perfection for her.  I know that she asked me to be here because she trusts me, my heart AND my hands, but I wanted perfection for her, AND a break from my streak of needing to help these babies out.

The last three births... a nuchal hand, shoulder dystocia, and non descent with a non-flexed fetal head and baby in crisis, needed immediate intervention. This one was different, it required a thought process, a seeing this out to the end, process.  I could see she was exhausted and baby was becoming tired too.  I could see that no matter where or how hard or in what position she pushed, the baby was NOT making descent.  I also trust Dawn's sense of trust in the process, and feel like if she thought I was just trying to hurry things along, she would have said no.  She was tired, and in pain.  She was pushing like mad every 3 minutes for 2 hours.  Uncontrollable, gut wrenching, reverse vomiting pushing... for 2 hours.  As I process this, with my apprentice, with my friend, they both said that my actions probably saved this mom's birth.  What would have happened if she had pushed another 10 minutes or 2 hours like that.  Would she have become so exhausted she couldn't push any longer?  Exhausted mama's, babies and uterus's have a tendency to bleed.  This was one of Dawn's fears going into this homebirth.  If I had left it alone, not directed her to push on her back, with me assisting, would she not have torn?  These are unknowns.  These are questions I will never have an answer to.  But I wish I did.  I wish I could unravel the mysteries of the universe.  Two of the three previous births, also had significant tears to their perineums, even though they pushed in the positions they chose, and I gently coached them to go slowly and breathe their babies out, they still tore.  I know I know the truth of this as it applies to me.  I know that my truth is just that, mine.  Her disappointment may or may not have anything to do with me at all, if it even exists.  I know spirit will reveal to me the truth.  I am just tired.  Tired of crying when I get home from a birth because I couldn't protect, fix or change a situation.  I know I need to let go and let these things work themselves out.  And I will... when I am done crying and have some rest... I will.