by MotherWit | Feb 23, 2010 | Uncategorized
There is nothing I love better in my practice than repeat clients. Whether a woman had a challenging or easy birth, it is such an honour to be asked to share in her subsequent birth experiences. There is something I find so delicious about being considered “the family doula”. I love it when it extends to the circles within which the clients live and work as well, so this small city of mine begins to feel like extended family with all the interconnectedness.
I am the doula for students and professors in certain departments in some of the universities in Montreal, to a circle of dancers, to a group of family physicians, to the postpartum nurses at one of the hospitals I work at, to moms of established playgroups, etc. It is amazing to see how the work grows, and to be asked to keep coming back. While I get many many requests for doula work, some of which I personally simply cannot take on due to volume or other engagements, I ALWAYS try to take on my repeat clients if they ask me, even if I am quite booked for a particular month. I have changed vacation dates, made exceptions, reduced prices, whatever it takes to do my best to meet those needs. I feel that if I am given the exceptional honour of being asked to attend the birth of a former client, I’m going to accept whenever I can. It is so sweet to be proudly shown and given the previous child to snuggle while the mother talks about this present pregnancy as we drink tea, and to be able to discuss little things about her last labour. There is something, I think, profoundly comforting about having someone at your birth who knows you…who knows some of your unique birthing behaviours.
The story of the first birth I went to which I told you about a couple of blogs ago, is a perfect example. I attended my friend’s next birth (her third) several years later. Knowing her beautiful, interesting behaviours helped me get the midwife in the room on time. Had I not known, I would have ended up doing a repeat catch. For this labour, she chose a midwife at a birthing centre. She had chosen to treat for Group B Strep, so as soon as she felt some labour-ish sensations, she went there to ensure she had antibiotic coverage 4 hours before birth. I went over there, and she was barely contracting at all. We had fun, walking around the beautiful old building. I took pictures of her big belly, and of her and the baby’s dad. The contractions she had didn’t make her crack a sweat.
After a little while, she started having a few more noticeable contractions, which made her lean over and breathe a little harder. Nothing to write home about. Then she leaned against her husband and had a really big one. Then she started walking around in a way that struck me with great clarity; this cute duck-ish walk she did, while emitting a few little whimpers, was what had happened just before she started crowning at her last birth. I RAN down the hall to where the midwives were hanging out. I said, “The baby’s coming!” They looked at me like I was crazy, because they hadn’t seen or heard any convincing, serious active labour when they had been in the room about 25 minutes before….otherwise, given her history, they would have stuck around. As far as they knew, she was just beginning to have some noticeable contractions. But midwives tend to believe wild allegations of precipitous labour, regardless of what the cervix has been doing a few minutes before, so one of them came tearing back up the hall with me. My friend looked at her, yelled “It’s coming!”, did her “yank-down-her-panties-and-throw-herself-onto-her-back-with-a baby-head-between-her-legs” thing, this time onto the bed, and proceeded to birth her 10 pound baby in a few easy pushes. I don’t think the midwife even had time for gloves. But thank God she was there, because she did her midwife magic and that baby was born over an intact perineum (not so when I clumsily caught her previous baby years before).
It is so beautiful to watch a woman you have helped before undertake this journey again, trusting you to help her manage her fears and life situations. I have a lady who calls me every couple years from a religious Jewish community, saying, “Hi, I need you again!”. She called me recently again…this will be the fifth time. She really depends on my presence. She says I calm her, and buffer the energies of the hospital. I don’t take that responsibility lightly. It’s not a casual duty. This is a woman’s birth experience, after all…her own way of expressing this unique, feminine, biological function and all the emotions and circumstances surrounding it. To be invited into that inner sanctum requires commitment that is made months in advance. I would be very sad if I ever missed one of her births. She has had so many challenging circumstances in her life, and I am the anchor who holds all her information and wishes so she doesn’t have to explain herself to every person who walks into the room while trying to go inside herself and labour. I don’t need to do anything for this woman, who is a very powerful and experienced birth giver, but make sure she has a calm space within which to do her thing, and hand her the homeopathic remedy she likes to take throughout labour (amazing stuff…it’s from Israel and written in Hebrew, but man, it makes birth speedy and efficient for the ladies I’ve seen use it). I need to call the doctor in when she starts smacking the bed with her hand, because I know this is how she expresses her need to push NOW. She and her husband are very fair skinned, and the babies they make are very very pale when born, but it’s never been a problem at all, so I pass that info on to Pediatrics when they express more than just a little concern. It’s very simple work, but so enriching!
My hope for all you new doulas is to eventually know the joys of a practice that is largely made up of repeat clients. It is very nurturing…for them, and for you.Lesleywww.motherwit.ca
by MotherWit | Feb 21, 2010 | Uncategorized
The more birth workers I have met over the years, the more I realize that many of the women drawn to working with birth are some serious bad asses. I mean that with awe and respect, of course. I am making a sweeping generalization, so if you are and have always been an upstanding member of society, from an amazing family, and with impeccable mainstream morals who happens to be a midwife or doula, obviously, I am not including you in this. It in no way means I wouldn’t think you were just as an amazing birth worker as a woman with the profile I’ve noticed. There are rarely black and white absolutes in anything, and I mean to offend nobody. I’m just mentioning some interesting similarities I and my colleagues have seen and discussed.
If you are to witness a birth at home or a birthing centre with midwives who choose this out-of-hospital venue, you will notice a distinct difference from the vibe of the caregivers in a hospital. Doctors, while usually kind and compassionate, are primarily clinical. They come into the hospital room, murmur some reassurance, then walk out again until they are needed. They are not generally emotionally involved. When they speak, it is to give clinical updates. Sure, they joke and have fun too, but it’s usually just in little spurts. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this. We appreciate that physicians need to maintain focus where they do, and don’t ask to rely on them for the majority of our emotional support. We’re glad they are there for our health concerns and sticky birth situations.
The room in which a midwife is catching a baby usually has a very sexy vibe. A lot of midwives I know have a very warm, comfortable-in-their-skin, good sexual energy. I was at a birth recently in which a few midwives were present, and the room was just pulsating with a very earthy, feminine, unselfconscious energy. It was wonderful! I’m not referring just to young, hot midwives when I say “sexy”, but to midwives of all ages, sizes, and religions. Sexual energy is a way in which people relate, not a way they look or talk or act. A hug is not normally a little over the shoulder, kiss the air kind of dealie with a midwife or doula…it’s full body contact, warm, loving embrace. Held eye contact, comfortable posture, easy flow of words, and lots of touch are things you will see many of these women demonstrate. Midwives will hike up their skirts and get on their hands and knees on the floor, their bums in the air and cleavage bared, to catch a baby if that’s what’s required. A doula will do all kinds of gymnastics to support her client however she is comfortable. Doctors may certainly accommodate, but don’t usually adopt these postures without you seeing some mental whirrings first and perhaps making sure everything is tucked in.
I know this may seem a little like i’m saying midwives and doulas are always all motherly, comfy, and sexy and doctors are all sort of rigid and cerebral. Obviously, there are some very clinically oriented midwives and super motherly doctors. I worked with a doctor who moved recently, who would just love sitting in the room for as much as the birth as she could manage given her time constraints, comfortably helping herself to the snacks the mom had set up, chatting about her own natural births and how powerful and beautiful she felt natural birth was. She would hug and slow dance with her labouring patients and rub their backs. She would cry when they achieved the births they wanted, and really knew about their emotional lives. I would feel comfortable coming up behind her while she was sitting there, rubbing her shoulders or giving her a hug here and there. She just had fantastic sexual energy, as well as being able to put on her doctor hat and get down to serious business when needed. I always sort of thought of her as a midwife with a medical degree. The lines can certainly be blurred….you have doctors like this, and “med”wives, who take a very hands off clinical approach. Either way, the ladies who seem super comfortable with and excited to sit with birthing energy tend to have some bad ass qualities.
What does “bad ass” mean? I don’t mean it in the criminal, miscreant kind of way (though I know fabulous midwives from that background too), but more in a fierce, awesome, unique, talented, creative, freaky, hardcore kind of way. I mean people who have lived and transformed and don’t give a crap about what people think. They have pasts. They may have been some of the “bad girls” in school, black sheep of the family, or “asked too many questions” as little kids because they were fascinated by everything. I mean they are usually rich in experience, having seen stuff and hung out in dark places, having wrestled a few demons for physical or emotional survival. They could not be boring if they tried.
Midwives and doulas often come to their professions with a lot of passion. Perhaps they have always been drawn to birth, or perhaps they birthed their own children and found their passion there. In any case, what I have found is that these women often have a lot of life experience under their belt, and funny enough, a lot of it is HARD life experience. They have had time in their lives to explore other avenues. Lots of women who work with birth have been something else in their younger lives, like English students, stockbrokers, yoga teachers, or world travelers. Many of them have had time to explore lots of relationships…sometimes some pretty awful ones. I don’t know if anyone else has noticed this, but a lot of them have lived some pretty intense lives. Perhaps this having lived on the edge for at least part of their lives…more on edge than the average person..has created this ability to be so comfortable with the intense, unpredictable nature of birth. Or perhaps this “edge-i-ness” is simply part of their make-up, and they thrive in these environments.
When I studied Psychosynthesis Psychotherapy, which is a spiritual approach to counseling, my teacher talked to us about the seven spiritual paths. There was a path of science, a path of knowledge, a path of devotion, etc. Those who choose to work with birth seem to be on the path of science (doctors), or a path of love (doulas and midwives). What this means is service motivated by deep love for those we serve. Doulas and midwives love women, babies, and the process of birth. We stay up all night, stand on our heads if we have to, forgo food, risk heartbreak, and get our hands dirty to ensure a woman comes through birth as safely, comfortably, and as loved as possible. We are dedicated, expressive, creative, and focused to a crazy degree on something that defies expectation and prediction. These are great strengths.
Each path has some challenges too. Many of the psychological similarities of those on the path of love have to do with difficulties with relationships, stemming perhaps from boundary issues having possibly been created by iffy boundaries within the family of origin. Self esteem is often a challenge with those on this path. Some can have challenges with focusing on other things in their lives outside of the love and service stuff, therefore have some organization/health/financial challenges.
The nature of birth work is very suitable for those midwives and doulas who are on the path of love. If there are those on this path who experience relationship challenges, working with birth can be very appealing. You forge and experience intense, love filled, helping, healing relationships with people, making a profound difference…then it’s done (to that intense degree, anyway). There’s no time to create baggage and risk all the messy stuff long term relationships and friendships can potentially cause. Seeing a baby into a family you’ve helped to create more solidity for is perhaps a way of healing the experience of being in a family that was perhaps not so solid. Helping a woman experience the peak sexual experience of birth in a safe and empowering way can be a way to heal times in our own lives that were not perhaps so sexually safe. We love unconditionally, non-judgmentally, in the face of a peak experience of pain and perhaps some cases terror. Our being able to hold this for others may in a deep way be inspired by knowing what it’s like to feel otherwise. Perhaps we can hold intensity or potentially be a rock in the face of loss, trauma and heartbreak because in varying degrees, we have been there.
Again…all kinds of people come to birth and work that energy with skill and love…not all are of the profile I describe above. If you are a birth worker, on a path of love, devotion, science, or otherwise, let me know if you have noticed this tendancy towards bad-assed-ness. I am curious if this rings any bells.
Lesley Everest
http://www.motherwit.ca/
by MotherWit | Feb 20, 2010 | Uncategorized
I was saddened to hear today that Carla Hartley lost her husband Ray to cancer. Carla is a midwife, and is known in the birth world as a tireless advocate for women’s choice in birthing, for her profound trust in the process of birth, and for her commitment to teaching other women to be midwives in this spirit.
Carla and her family worked tirelessly to support Ray through his dying process, and were with him to witness his spirit’s Deliverance. There are no words to describe the pain of the loss of a beloved partner. I have been teary all day for Carla and her children, who have lost their father.
We can wax spiritual and philosophical, but that doesn’t make pain any better. The truth is that loss hurts. Yes, from the perspective of our Higher Selves it opens our hearts, creates compassion, is part of life, is just a drop in the bucket given the eternity of our souls, but in the here and now, we attached humans suffer with unimaginable heartbreak in the wake of a loved one’s death. There seems to be no way through to healing except to be with and work through that startling level of emotional pain. The vast majority of people go through it at least a couple times in their lives, but its commonality doesn’t make it any easier to cope with. I guess we just have to trust this hard core human experience of loss and the pain associated with it has purpose, and it is our job to make personal meaning of it for healing.
I am comforted to know Carla is surrounded by a huge web of love and support. She is a woman of strong faith in her spiritual convictions, and I hope this creates an island of peace within an ocean of pain.
I don’t know Carla personally, but from what I have known of her and read about her, she is an amazing, giving, kind, involved, beautiful person, and has touched many many lives. Please send her love and prayers for comfort in this challenging time.
Ray’s medical expenses were huge from what I’m gathering, and with Carla’s focus being entirely on Ray’s around-the-clock care, expenses have far exceeded income for a while. Donations through Paypal can be sent to raysfund@gmail.com to help ease the financial stress on Carla and her family at this time when they should be able to grieve in peace.
by MotherWit | Feb 19, 2010 | Uncategorized
It may sound funny, but even after quite a few years of working with birth, I still dream about birth all the time…giving birth, catching babies, helping friends in labour.
I have birth fantasies, too. Sometimes I’m on the Metro or the bus next to a pregnant woman and I start daydreaming of a tv situation in which she suddenly bursts into second stage labour, and everyone is freaking, and I get to doula the woman and everyone around us, and then everyone gets to bear witness to a beautiful, fast, physiological birth and their minds are positively influenced forever and ever amen.
I have not had any “car” babies in my career, though have come AWFULLY close a few times, but part of me thinks this would be a groovy experience. I’m sure no mom wants to give birth in a car, and I’m REALLY sure most partners would not be down with this situation so for their sakes I’m glad it hasn’t happened, but I must admit when flying down a highway with the mom announcing she feels rectal pressure, I get a little excited.
There is a lot of freedom in not being afraid of Birth, as most people kind of are. It’s not that I don’t have healthy respect for the unpredictable nature of Birth, because I most certainly do. But I’m not scared of someone animal-ing out and dropping a baby in my presence. It has happened before. Not in a car, but I have had a couple babies decide to come out without much warning. I have to say I have enjoyed those times. Because I’m not the midwife, I call emergency services to take the mom and baby to the hospital, which was her planned place of birth. It is definitely a guilty pleasure catching a crazy fast baby by accident.
I’ll tell you about the first birth I ever went to. Yes, this is how I was initiated into doula-ing…a true story.
I had taken my little 2 day doula training course (which was jam packed and very good, I have to say) in Boston, my daughter was a year and a half, and I was ready to attend someone else’s birth. My friend Patoo bestowed upon me the greatest honour of requesting my presence at her planned hospital birth. She had a 4 year old at the time whom she birthed in traditional hospital fashion…induction, epidural, etc. The birth was quite fast for a first birth with an epidural. She planned on having the same kind of birth.
I anticipated that birth more than 50 Christmases put together. I was unbelivably excited. Finally, the day came where Patoo called me at around 7 in the morning, saying, “ohhh, I’m having some contractions and it’s starting to huuuurrt.” I dashed over there, dropping my daughter off at my mother’s. She was sitting meditatively in front of a lit candle, looking very serene. Three of her friends and her four year old daughter were there. I had never been to a birth before, having only experienced my own first birth, which was a standard 24 hour dealie, so I didn’t really have the knowledge and honed skills of observation to realize how advanced her labour was. I also didn’t know that women birthing quickly are often in denial of the fact the baby is coming soon.
Patoo had a little ritual she developed spontaneously with her contractions. She would run during the contraction to the kitchen to start making some peanut butter and toast because she was hungry. She figured the hospital would restrict food, and wanted to be full. Then she would run to her daughter’s room to start doing her hair because it was picture day at school. Then she would run to the bathroom and whimper a little while she sat on the toilet. Each circut of these behaviours brought a little more progress with each activity, as well as the labour…the bread toasted…then the peanut butter got spread…then a few bites were taken. For the hair-doing, elastics and a brush were procured..then some hair was swiped at…a snarly pony tail made (try doing a four year old’s hair in active labour), and still I did not clue into the fact she was in spectacular labour. In the toilet, a pee was had, then some bloody show was visible. Patoo just kept doing normal stuff instead of focusing on her labour and getting into all the positions and making the noises I was trained to expect.
Finally, after a few rotations of this circuit, I realized things were looking a little manic. She started doing things like throwing the toast on the floor when a contraction started and the running started looking desperate. Patoo’s daughter was starting to give her mother the hairy eyeball as she’d drop the hairbrush and do a strange running/jig combo. I followed her into the bathroom and then it hit me. I looked into her eyes. She was in labour land. She had left us. This circuit WAS how she expressed her labour. I said, “we need to get to the hospital right now.” I suddenly felt the urgency. She said, “okay, but I have to go eat some more toast,” and started running to the kitchen. I grabbed her and started putting her shoes on, and told one of her friends to get the car ready.
As I was putting on her shoes, she broke the circuit…she said, I just have to go to the bathroom…” “OOOH SHIT!” I thought. I was about to go to the bathroom to get her, when she came shooting past me, her pants down around her ankles, shrieking, “IT’S COMING!!!!!” She ran into her daughter’s room, lay down on the floor with her legs open, and I saw her baby was crowning. I’m sad to say, I panicked a little, and heard this ridiculous phrase come out of my mouth, “Oh no you don’t! Put your pants back on! We need to go to the hospital NOW!” Obviously, I reigned in that ridiculousness, and snapped into “taking care of business” mode. I yanked off Patoo’s shoes and threw them behind me, then took off her pants entirely.
Patoo’s poor daughter was staring at her mother as if her head were spinning right around. I said, “Nina, get off the bed, your mom needs to get somewhere more comfortable.” She just stared without moving. “Nina, move!” I said. She got off the bed and ran into one of Patoo’s good friend’s arms, and I felt so good she was with someone very calm and loving who could make this experience okay for her. I asked another friend to get the friend with the car to come help me, and got her to call 911. The friend with the car was not so calm, and I know not into watching a baby coming out, so I had her sit behind Patoo so she could lean against her instead of lying flat on her back on a cold floor (there was no way she was able to get onto the bed). I demanded towels and warm washcloths, shooting out orders to everyone. It was quite obnoxious, really, not how I would handle it now, but I forgive myself, as this is quite a way to be introduced to supporting birth.
I had never seen a birth, and when I saw the squishy little walnut looking head, I wasn’t sure if what I was seeing was normal. I started thinking, “Oh God, is that a cord coming out fist?” and I was frightened. Then out of the blue,I had one of the most incredible, out of body, spiritual experiences of my life…a voice appeared and spoke in my right ear. “Put your hand over the head, and let it ease out.” Patoo was scared, yelling, “Help me!” and I centred, smiled and said, “go ahead and push if you need.” She did, and the baby’s head came out smoothly. There was a cord around her neck, and of course I had blanked, but knew somehow this wasn’t ideal. The voice spoke to me in a way that was so familiar, so calming. “Take the cord away.” I took the cord, grasping it gently in my hand, and the most profound feeling of familiarity ran through me. The rubbery, warm pulsing cord, the feel of the wet baby head, the motion of her head as I slipped it from around her neck (it just fit…it wasn’t loose) was the most peaceful, right thing I had ever felt in my life. I felt completely connected not to the situation, but to the energy animating the situation. It was truly a mystical experience. Then all of her squirted into my hands…warm, wiggly, alive, smelling like Heaven. The world stopped for a moment. I could feel the shift, the making room for a new life and the blessing the Universe has for that moment…I felt all of it. She yelled immediately, pink and beautiful, and I gave her to her mother.
Time rushed forward again, and we were all over the moon with joy. It was a minute or two before the ambulance guys came, and it was a fabulous time of celebrating. Then they came in, dealt with the placenta, and tucked the baby into the blanket all snug with her Mom. We rode to the hospital where they gave Patoo some stitches, and tended to the baby.
Sadly, they kept the baby for a week at the hospital, on prophylactic antibiotics and under observation because she looked “dusky” (the baby was bi-racial..her mother white, and her father very dark skinned). Basically, from my perspective now, I believe my young, single mother friend was being punished for having had a homebirth, even though it was truly unintentional, and her baby being “saved” from all her nasty young mother “cooties”. I wish I had known more, been more experienced. Sigh…how are you supposed to know all this with two days of training? Anyway, I did my best, and luckily, this little girl went on to breatfeed for a long while despite a rocky start.
We never knew what had happened to the amniotic fluid. Patoo had no memories of the waters breaking, and I certainly didn’t see any sort of major gush. We figured they had broken in the toilet. Then, years later, one of the friends who had been there came to see me for a massage session, and she asked, “I wanted to ask you….what was that JUICE that came out when the baby was born? When you were delivering the baby, 2 streams of pink fluid shot out over each of your shoulders and hit the wall across the room!” Mystery solved.
So this, folks, was my introduction to being with birth. I have, ever since, been passionate about everything relating to birth. I’m not into the phrase “birth junkie” for myself. Somehow I get the sense the Great Lady Birth wouldn’t find this phrase respectful out of my mouth. I know that seems out there, and I have no issue whatsoever with others identifying themselves as such because it IS true when you’re bit by the birth bug you want more “hits” of it… but I don’t call myself that. I need Birth like I need water, though. She is my greatest teacher. My greatest lessons about life have come from being with Birth.
At Patoo’s birth, I was not elegant. I was not spectacular, intuitive, or knowledgeable. But I know I was unequivocally meant to be there. That voice I encountered has visited me on other similar occasions, and has alway provided me the calm with which to trust I can usually handle what Birth requires from me.
by MotherWit | Feb 17, 2010 | Uncategorized
I’m going to be lazy today, as I have just returned from a long day of client visits, made supper, and now I want to watch the Olympics.
I wanted to share a poem that always touches my heart. When I was studying Literature in university, I came across it and it has always remained one of my favourites about some of the most precious moments of childhood. Enjoy.
After Making Love We Hear Footsteps
For I can snore like a bullhorn
or play loud music
or sit up talking with any reasonably sober Irishman
and Fergus will only sink deeper
into his dreamless sleep, which goes by all in one flash,
but let there be that heavy breathing
or a stifled come-cry anywhere in the house
and he will wrench himself awake
and make for it on the run – as now, we lie together,
after making love, quiet, touching along the length of our bodies,
familiar touch of the long-married,
and he appears – in his baseball pajamas, it happens,
the neck opening so small
he has to screw them on, which one day may make him wonder
about the mental capacity of baseball players –
and flops down between us and hugs us and snuggles himself to sleep,
his face gleaming with satisfaction at being this very child.
In the half darkness we look at each other
and smile
and touch arms across his little, startling muscled body –
this one whom habit of memory propels to the ground of his making,
sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake,
this blessing love gives again into our arms.
Galway Kinnell
by MotherWit | Feb 17, 2010 | Uncategorized
I had a beautiful meal today with a lovely couple I’m working with who were so kind as to invite me to share lunch with them. If you have never tried the smoked goat cheddar that’s made in Quebec and has in fact been deemed the #1 cheese in the world of its kind, you have not lived. It was truly special, as well as the company. I often rush around my day doing my prenatal and postpartum appointments and either forget to eat, or simply don’t have time. It was wonderful to sit down with some truly great folks, eat a beautiful meal, and talk about breastfeeding. Life is fine in those moments when we are nourished by good food, good company, and good conversation. In those moments there is joy, even when sometimes things outside of that circle of contentment can be heavy. The space of nourishment is such an important place within which to centre ourselves, to gather up energy and re-source ourselves. Then we can go out into the world with some fuel and handle things with more clarity…perhaps see things with a little more warmth.
I spoke with a lady yesterday whose story made me quite sad. She had a very difficult birth, having avoided a C-section by the skin of her teeth. Her waters had broken, so when she went to the hospital as she was told to do, she was not allowed to eat. Because her baby was extremely high and her membranes ruptured, she was considered high risk for a C-section, which means eating is a no no. I guess they were terrified of a prolapsed cord, even though she stayed in bed as she was told. Most likely they gave her Synto to augment the process after hours of long, hunger riddled labour. The long and short of it was, that she got terribly exhausted. She felt so hungry, and was not allowed access to the nourishment her body was crying out for. She was not given information about what was happening and why. Of course, the poor woman completely ran out of steam in trying to cope with her labour sensations without the benefit of fuel, and resorted to taking an epidural she never wanted or thought she’d need.
Finally, when it was time for her to start pushing, she was told it would be hours because of how high the baby still was. The baby was born in 15 minutes. We are not aware of all the details, because she really wasn’t informed of everything. You go into the hospital with an expectation you will be made to understood everything that is going on, yet I have so many ladies come to me in their second pregnancies in tears because they are traumatized by their birth experiences, and are not exactly sure why they turned out the way they did.
This story breaks my heart….so many interventions related to a lack of vital nourishment. Were the risks associated with not eating truly smaller than the risk of an occurrence of prolapsed cord, if that was indeed what they were worried about? Yes, prolapsed cord is a huge emergency. I have seen it. But is not C-section for a stalled labour, had that been how it went down for this lady, and how it happens for many others, super risky in and of itself? In the here and now the baby comes out just fine, infection and bleeding can be treated in the mother, and another “disaster” has been diverted by the magic of surgery, bada bing. Sounds appealing. But the long term risks are becoming more evident, such as scar tissue in the uterus from the surgery causing the placenta of the next pregnancy to attach there, which can result in disastrous, life threatening bleeding. The maternal death rate is climbing, due to so many surgical births…and many other things I just don’t have the energy to get into, but you get the drift.
Where has the soul gone in this business of baby catching? Midwives and doulas consider nourishment in the form of food, loving words, gentle touch, respect, and the joy of being together in a loving environment essential to the care of the birthing couple. Many medical practitioners feel safer with cold, hard, shiny instruments and machines which monitor, cut, scrape, vaccuum, and suction, and are less invested in a woman’s experience of birth. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard a woman say to her doctor, “this isn’t what I wanted,” and the clinical reply, “This is Obstetrics. You don’t always get what you want,” as if having wanted anything in the first place was silly. Besides, giving birth is NOT obstetrics. The woman giving birth isn’t practising obstetrics! It’s what the doctor is doing, and what he wants has a lot of sway. I understand their job is to monitor for and treat pathology in most birthing women, not to join hands and sing with their patients (though Michel Odent has done that, and it has worked wonders for his practice). But a doctor’s warmth is today considered a blessing and a bonus; a little icing on the cake instead of something that should be expected. The care of birth in North America comes primarily from a mind oriented, intellectual place. Being logical and clinical and applying technology according to arising potentials is what saves us from disaster, not something earthy crunchy like eating, or loving support. Or does it?
A primarily mind oriented approach to maternity care as opposed to an approach which is certainly clinically skilled, but acutely aware of the need for compassion and nurturing seems to create the best outcomes. Midwives care for the vast majority of pregnant and labouring women in the Netherlands, for instance, and they have some of the most commendable birth outcomes in the world. We, sadly, do not. Our neonatal mortality and morbidity rates are pretty awful, considering all the emphasis on technology. Sure, they have great OB care in Holland too, but not for the majority of births. OBs take care of women who are higher risk, instead of almost every garden variety birthing lady as they do here. The OBs also seem pretty content to allow the midwives to deal with normal births, and they seem to have great respect for the birth process, supporting the idea of homebirth, which happens in around 1 in 3 births there. NOT here. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of love between doctors and midwives.
Trying to outsmart Birth as if we were playing a game of Chess clearly is not the ideal way to approach maternity care. Let us bring heart back to caring for birth. Bringing in more love, compassion, and trust is not just some hippie la la notion. It is a crucial missing element. This is why doulas tend to have such great statistics with their hospital birthing clients…we bring the love. We will feed you and nurture you. We will encourage you and buffer a harsh environment. As Ina May Gaskin quotes in her book Spiritual Midwifery, “With love, even the rocks will open.”
