"My involvement with midwifery has been the very best life I could have. I feel I have been living on sacred ground."
~ Jan Tritten
What looks like shadow exists only because light exists. One cannot be present without the other. These past few days I have been dancing between shadow and light. Bear with me, stay with this metaphor as you read.
What I have to write about is haunting, so if you would like to dance only in the sunshine of midwifery, you might not want to contine reading. I am afraid to write this blog because it is loaded. I feel though that it is important, probably the most important thing that I have written about to this day.
I don't even know where to begin except with the exact moment. On Friday a woman came in for a scheduled appointment. I went to get heart tones...you can guess right? Take a deep breath.
There were none, her baby's little heart had stopped beating. This was her 1st pregnancy, she thought she couldn't get pregnant.
I asked why I had been the one to receive this brutal message. I was terrified, I moved slowly and got the staff midwife. I wanted to run away but I couldn't. How could I? Many thoughts crowded my head, how could I possibly support this family when I was in shock?
Another midwife went to the hospital with them for a sonogram...when I gathered myself together, I took her place. I was there when the father received the news but I was not allowed to be with them.
I went back to the clinic with a heavy heart but at the same time I felt like this was an amazing gift that I had been given.
This is every midwives worst fear no? And I was in a situation where I had to deal with it. The gift is this: I wasn't alone, I was in a learning environment with 20+ women to gather around me and help me cross this threshold. I was dancing in shadow and light and being present in both. It was hard, it is hard. It is not the end of my story.
On Sunday I was on shift and by chance it was my turn to go to the hospital (we do followup on people who are transported out of our care). This time I was allowed in to see this family, as I crossed the threshold to their room, the nurse was checking this mom's dialation. I stood outside and wondered how it was that I was here at this exact moment. The mother was complete and ready to push.
This time I did not want to run away. I commited myself to serving this family and I did. I was there for the birth of this baby. It was phenomenal.
After the baby was born She lifted her little 8 1/2 boy into here arms and spoke words of love to her child asking it why it had choose to leave.."Que te paso mi amor?" She wrapped the baby in a blanket, they took photos, there were profuse tears. She named her child.
The baby's heart had not beaten for at least 3 days, before she had entered the clinic for her appointment.
I am in a very strange space, 4 days later I have cried, I have grieved, I would say though that I am more grateful than anything.
I don't think this is a reaction that everyone has.
It was a gift, it was no accident that it was me that did not find the heart tones and it was no accident that I was there the moment that she was ready to push her baby into the world. Is it?
At times I think that I just haven't quite absorbed the profound sadness of it all. The hardest part was not my involvement, the hardest part is thinking about the grief of this family. I have just had a small brush with it. I was allowed to be on the outside, I am allowed perspective. It wasn't me who lost a long awaited child.
I am sure that many people who read this will have specific questions, and specific judgements. As of now, the cause of the baby's death is unknown.
Does it matter? Does there need to be blame? Isn't life so very mysterious?
Thus the beginning quote:
"My involvement with midwifery has been the very best life I could have. I feel I have been living on sacred ground."
~ Jan Tritten
