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.

Third Time's the Charm...

I just attended a mama who had her 3rd baby with me.  It is amazing to see the family grow and change, the babies so full of personality and charm.  While things are similar with most every birth, every birth is also quite unique, and these three births, although they were to the same mother, with babies in the same size range, the births were very different!

Denise has herself been a student midwife, and now holds a bachelors degree in holistic health care.  The first birth I attended with her occurred in Massachusetts, outside of Boston.  I flew up close to her due date, and stayed for a week.  She usually carries her babies to 41 weeks, so we were sweating it a little when 41 week mark came and went, worried that I would have to extend my trip and buy a new plane ticket, but labor came at 41 weeks and 2 days.

Denise had invited two of her friends from midwifery class to attend, as assistants/doulas and it was actually the first birth I ever attended with the help of an assistant (which was bliss, and I have never attended one alone since).  This was her fourth child, first homebirth.  Her labor started slow and easy, progressed in a textbook manner, she felt pushy, climbed on the bed and pushed a couple of times and out slid a beautiful baby girl (if you ask her son, who was around 4 at the time, he will tell you that she just JUMPED out of his mom's crotch).  The only thing even slightly out of the ordinary was her partner Pete, who was slightly squeamish  passed out shortly after the placenta delivered.  I still give him a hard time about that.  The birth was perfectly textbook, about 12 hours from start to finish.  Lovely, normal postpartum, lovely normal newborn in the 7ish lb range.

About 4 months after after that sweet baby girl, Nova, was born, Denise and her family moved south to the city I lived in, with plans that when her baby was older, she would begin to attend births with me.  Denise and I had been great friends for a long time prior to that birth, I think we knew each other when we were planning the births of our now 10 year-olds.  Before she could get Nova weaned and be ready to work with me, she became pregnant again.


At precisely 40 weeks, a little earlier than Denise's norm, labor began.  We expected things to progress along the same lines.  While the early and middle parts of the labor went very much the same way as the first, transition this time was hard.  Denise spent hours at 9 centimeters.  I have no real understanding of exactly why it happened, but it was hard.  Hard for her, hour after hour, being told "I know it hurts" and "No, I don't know why it is taking so long, but you both are fine".  Hard for me to see my dear friend suffering, knowing there was little I could do to help her, but to trust birth and trust her strength. She never gave in, she kept fighting the hard transition fight, until finally, after 6 hours of incredibly intense end stage labor, with a roar and two hard, unexpected, spontaneous, pushes, another sweet baby girl was born, caught by her mother's own loving hands.  This baby DID actually jump right out of her crotch.  I didn't even have time to put on gloves.  She had a very short cord, and I suspect this was the reason for the slow descent, but we will never really know.  Lola was almost a carbon copy of her sister, a bit heavier, but they could literally pass for twins at birth.

This last birth was an exercise of shooting from the hip.  This was a surprise pregnancy, She has moved, and I have since relocated my midwifery practice to Southern West Virginia, so we have a considerable distance between us. Denise is nearly 40 and not was feeling as fit or healthy as she has in the past.  Certain health issues created minor hiccups in the course of prenatal care, and all along, Denise considered the strong possibility that she might have this baby in the hospital.  Part of it being realistic, and I think part of it was her fear of transition.  The stars aligned, and I found myself nearby during the holidays.  Denise was still not 100% committed, but willing to see what happens, the plans were made for me to hang out, and for Denise, her partner and her beautiful 19 year old daughter Amber to rock this last birth out.  The thought of Amber catching the baby made us all excited and proud, proud of the deep trust that this young woman has now in birth and the power of love and life.

The labor began at 41 weeks and change, and was relatively quick, judging by her earlier patterns.  About 4 hours of active labor, and about 6 pushes, and handsome little David slipped into the world, with a blonde fauxhawke and looking as adorable as his older sisters.  Things got a wee bit hairy at the end, but the family performed amazingly.  Over all, this birth was perfect.  A perfect end to an era of creating wonderful little people to populate the earth with their wit and wisdom, the wisdom passed on to them through their mother and father, their loving brothers and sister, their connectedness as a family.  I am proud and honored to have been a part of the creation and evolution of this family.

I love you Denise and Pete  You are great parents.