My role at a birth is to serve rather than direct. I prefer to find out what the birthing family wants for each individual birth and, within the realm of practicality and safety, to honor those wishes. Over the last 15 years I've attended around 500 births in some capacity. Well over half of them were as primary caregiver in a wide variety of settings and circumstances, which has also provided lots of experience in managing the unexpected.
How I became a midwife.....
I never planned to be a midwife. It just happened while I wasn't looking. When my first child was born in 1978, I went to the same doctor that delivered me. Natural childbirth was just coming into vogue and each mention of it garnered the same response from dear old Dr. Thomas. -- a patronizing pat on the back, followed by, "don't worry honey, we'll tell you everything you need to know". Of course he didn't. My daughter was born by what can only be described as a surgical, vaginal birth. The IV anesthetic worked only between contractions and caused strange hallucinations. My only memory of the labor is an Alice-In-Wonderlandish nightmare punctuated by intermittent, gut-wrenching pain. Then some 36 hours later, a rubber mask with general anesthetic came down over my face as I was being transferred to a table, in a room full of cold steel, and masked men waiting to deliver my baby....... I woke later in severe pain, unsure of what had happened. A nurse spoke to me through a fog and told me I had a girl. I corrected her, "no, It was a boy".
Two years later when our second child was in queue, I vowed things would be different; and they were. My poor husband endured dragging his pregnant wife and a pile of pillows for six weeks to a hospital classroom. There I learned to breathe the "he-he-ha-ha" way and he learned to massage away the "discomfort of childbirth" with a rolling pin, or with some tennis balls stuffed into a sock. This birth was different indeed. When labor got serious, I thought of more creative uses for the rolling pin and sock. But the doctor came to my husband's rescue with the paragon of obstetrical anesthetics, called a paracervical. It amazingly relieved all the pain while allowing me to remain awake during delivery, with absolutely no impairment of my extremities. Childbirth could be beautiful after all. Unfortunately, before the birth of our third child, we learned it was a very dangerous, sometimes fatal procedure and was no longer legal. Back to the drawing board.
As we prepared for the birth of our fourth child, there was yet a new wrinkle in the plan. Health insurance would only cover complications in childbirth. Normal, healthy delivery would be treated entirely as an out of pocket expense. As we wrestled with our options, (and wondered about the wisdom in praying for just a "small but harmless" complication) a friend spoke up and suggested we have our baby at home..... with a midwife. My husband-- having never given birth himself-- was willing to give it some consideration, especially since the price tag was only about 1/5 the cost of a hospital birth. My responses were a little different. "Do people still do that?" "Is it legal?" "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" "That's barbaric!" We arrived at a tentative compromise that I would get prenatal care from the midwife and put off the delivery decision until we could no longer avoid it. Somewhere along the way I found comfort and strength in finally exploring and understanding the natural processes of birth, and coming to terms with all of the "what-ifs". I did have my first home birth that year, and the empowerment and euphoria were such a stark contrast to the victimized, helpless feelings I experienced after hospital births, that I made yet another vow. I would never again have a hospital birth unless it was medically necessary.
After wonderful home births with daughters five and six, my altruistic nature collided with my need for supplemental income, prompting me to become a certified childbirth educator. I was on a mission to save the pregnant public from the "abuse of uncaring obstetricians and hospitals", and to pay the light bill. After a year of extensive training, I was ready to teach my first class full of sock clad, pillow bearing , expectant couples.
My own midwife invited me to accompany her on some births "just for experience" since it would help me teach my classes. About the same time, there was also a new course being offered by the state to aspiring midwives, and the price was right -- it was free. Again I went, "just for the experience". The natural end of the course was taking a state certification test, which I easily passed.
Suddenly I was a midwife; and I was shocked when ladies started asking me to deliver their babies. Somewhere between the spring of 1988 and the winter of 1992, I had gone from wondering what a midwife was, to being one. Fifteen years later, I can honestly say it has been the loveliest and strangest adventure of my life. The wonder and privilege of holding life and death in your hands, and knowing that you have no real power over it, is profoundly humbling. No birth is average or ordinary, although on our labor charts, a birth without complications is listed as "unremarkable".
