Another Exceptionally Ordinary Birth

This was a birth that I assisted at.

A first time momma, very young, comes in with ruptured membranes, light contractions. She had care with an OB throughout her pregnancy, had only been to two appointments with us.

It was a beautiful day so she walked around a bit to get things going, through the hallway, into the back courtyard. She walked in slow circles for an hour or so and then went back to her room.

She listens from her room and hears another woman birthing. I was told that she became a bit afraid, a bit desperate all of a sudden, to have this over with quickly. She labors for another hour in her room. I am not privvy to what is unfolding with her after that point.

I am sitting at the back table, listening to a beautiful song with tears in my eyes, it was my 1st shift back after my fathers death.

Birth team is called (the sign that she is probably pushing and help is needed) Staff and I go into the room to find her standing, very disoriented and very frightened, the baby is crowning, the other student trying to make sure the baby is born safely. We move her to hands and knees onto the bed.

The baby is born wailing, wrapped up and passed between her legs. She just stares at the baby in disbelief . She asked what just happened. "Your baby was born" Her baby is scooped up lovingly after a long minute and welcomed with tears.

A birth like that for a momma can be like plummeting down a roller coaster ride. It takes a while to not feel dizzy and disoriented about the surroundings.

I think that is what pushing is all about, the threshold crossing. When a woman doesn't feel like she pushed, when the baby rockets out, she might feel psychologically spacy, like someone just pushed the fast forward button on her live and skipped a big scene.

My third baby was like that so I know, I had the same reaction that this woman had..."what just happened?"

Another exceptionally ordinary birth...

Exceptionally Ordinary Birth

Every day that I step into the clinic I wonder what birth lies around the corner, what unveiling of the inner most sanctum of a woman's world will I be priviledged to experience.

Most doulas and new students who have experienced hospital births revel in the birth that shows the primal. The woman squattting, the woman shrieking, the woman pushing her baby out on hands and knees. Birth without interference. Birth without the intellectualization.

At MLL I have seen lots of those births when the woman follows the natural flow of her body. Over and over that is what I see. There are a lot of fast births at the clinic. Fast fast fast.

My last shift a woman came in with contractions spaced about every 5 minutes apart that had begun an hour prior, I was the only one to do the labor check. The clinic was a bit busy (understatement) and so I went through the normal set of questions to see what was happening with this womans contraction pattern. This beautiful woman smiled and answered my questions. The only way that I knew she was contracting was that she would take a deep breath at what seemed like the peak of her surges. She was incredibly serene in the midst of what seemed to be intense laboring. About 5 minutes in, after listening to heart tones, I saw a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead and felt her back. She was working hard and the temperature of her skin gave it away.

I checked the front of her chart for any pertinent info (that is where we document if a woman wants a water birth, if she is RH-, etc..) HISTORY OF FAST LABORS written in bold lettering. Ok, well still need to do the intake process.

I felt like I was bothering her a bit with all of the questions required for this process, so I took a minute out to observe really what was going on.

In that minute she stated "ay, I feel something below" her voice became elevated and her smile was gone from her face. She wanted to push.

Ok, time to get to a room.

She walked, rather gingerly, head held high, smile on her face to one of our birth rooms. I called for staff and this woman lay down, was checked for completeness (per protocol) and pushed her baby out into the world. The baby had a nuchal hand, a nuchal cord weighed 8lbs 12 oz and it came gently into my hands despite all of this.

This all occured in the clinic without anyone knowing what was going on besides me, the staff midwife and another student assisting.

And this is not the 1st time this has happened to me, usually I am awoken at 2am, barely have time to put on gloves, and at 2:15 am have slippery beings glide right into my hands.

It is incredbily, quite ordinary.

Sometimes I feel it is a bit dangerous to post stories like this, even though our culture needs to hear more of them. Most of us don't have births like these.

I know, lots of questions, lots of things to ponder. What makes it so easy for this to unfold over and over and over again?

Trust? Faith? A fit body?

And then judgement that we have for ourselves if our birth is not like this, if our birth doesn't unfold so easily, if we are not smiling during contractions.

What key does this woman carry to unlock herself so easily?

Descent

The intention of this blog was to write about birth and my experiences at MLL and it has gone beyond that to a deeply personal sharing of all that has unfolded.

I haven't posted about my experiences much lately at MLL, mostly because I have been in the metaphorical underworld.

The western world has a strange view of the underworld, a fiery place perhaps... but the underworld in myth is very different than that.

http://members.tripod.com/~ideomagi/library/inanna.html

There is an incredible story of Inannas decent that I tell in my Birthing From Within classes about a woman on a journey who decends to the underworld to give birth. It is a story of the stripping off of all of the images that we posses of who we are, it is a story about a deep journey into your shadow self, it is a story about crossing a threshold into another way of being.

Innanas decent is an ancient story of a journey with many facets and a journey that we take in our own lives as we transition into any new phase of life. It has a universal theme, mostly directed toward the female archetype.

So my journey into the underworld has been a long winding path and a stripping down to the bone of who I am. Some of it had to do with my fathers death but much of it has to do with the intense process that is MLL. For awhile, the process to becoming a midwife became too difficult to speak about. I was a bit stuck in politics, difficult births, difficult interactions, difficult self reflections, a heavy work load etc... to even begin to share lovely birth stories.

In short, I was in the underworld.

The story also speaks about ascent. After Inanna "gives birth", she begins her renewal and her journey back into the world. The original myth does'n't elaborate on that journey too much but that is where I am now.

It is May....In September I finish the clinical experience. And then what?

Parting with the Ashes

Photos is of the flowers spread during my father's memorial service. The background is Lanai. It was a beautiful ceremony done with much ritual and song. I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful goodbye.

Grief part 3

MY FATHER’S body

Is ashes now…I had to fax a note to Nakamura’s mortuary. It said this “This note authorizes Nakamura’s mortuary to creamate the body of Walter McAnally.”

I spelled cremate wrong.
That is so far the only part that I have in the transition of his body to spirit.

The last time I held his hand was in August. Brad and I flew to him, he said he was sick so we went to see him. He would not tell us what was wrong, mumbled something about Rehad, needing to get off of the sauce. He could not drink and live at the same time.
Apparently the drink was more important than his life.

I am so glad that I followed my gut and said goodbye. When I drove away from his Lahaina house, I knew that it was goodbye. His closest companion didn’t seem to think
So, his boss seemed to think he would choose to live somehow.
Oh crap, this story is probably going to far.

But you can see friends who requested that I update my blog, that grief has anger in it too.

It sucks to be angry at someone who is gone. I know, I know, it is part of grieving but it still sucks.

I know my body relives the first abandonment at 3 years old when my mother left him, and he fled to Maui. I didn’t see him for 15 years…I don’t remember that 3 year old me and the grief that must have generated.

But I feel it, somewhere it is buried in me, it is resurfacing.

And I think that is Universal, when someone dies, all the unfinished business, all of the memories, good and bad come up. The “proper” thing is to let go and remember only the good, to smile and cry and grieve the loss of the person. The truth is though that you are grieving your own personal losses, every one of them comes up again.

The losses are like a can of shaken soda, the cap comes off and the bubbles explode out.
All of the emotions, the good, the bad and the ugly…

Grief part 1

Beginning something, with words, feeling my way through the text.

I have had reluctant fingers, afraid that they won’t represent well, or afraid on an even more difficult sentiment, that I will get started and won’t be able to stop.

The emotions that I have been carrying around are a great sea trench. I have been floating over them, looking down and wondering to what depth the darkness goes.

I was afraid to take the plunge, to swim in them, in they mystery and depth.

But last Thursday, I had no choice.

A week has gone by since I got the news, via phone message, that sent me plummeting, iron weights on my feet, into that watery cavern.

The message from my uncle was that my father lay in the hospital with tubes in him, making his heart beat, breathing for him. He decided that methodone and alcohol would be the way to end his life, he decided that his body had betrayed him and that it was no longer worth living in.

I know he made that decision awhile ago, but last week he carried it out to a fatal end. Intentional? Unintentional? The answer to that will only be known to him. I can’t go there, the world of questions could make me crazy.

His decision did not surprise me, but the phone message shocked me, grief enveloped me, pulled me under. I was driving when I heard the message. It took all of my strength to turn my car around and be back where people would ground me. I couldn’t go home, Arno and the boys were out camping.

So I went back to the clinic where I was held as sobs wracked my body. I was taken home and fed and helped to figure out what to do.

If any of your read this…thank you. I couldn’t have gone at it alone.

I was stuck for a bit, figuring out how to deal with my father’s death alone. They had made the decision to take him off of life support and I wouldn’t be in Maui in time to say goodbye to his physical body.

So I did the only thing I could think of and that was to go to San Diego, to be with my older son, to connect with my father that way.

Arno joined me two days later, he had been out of cell phone range for two days. Not being with my guys was disorienting.

Grief part 2

Grief is a strange thing. There is not a set of instructions on how to grieve.

There are times when I smile and feel awful for doing so, I am not supposed to feel like smiling am I?
There are times when I can’t form a sentence, when I have delved so far into my inner world that asking a simple thing like “What time is it?” seems to drain all of my energy.

I cry at inappropriate times, standing in line to get on the airplane, at the bookstore counter.

Yet, I cannot cry at appropriate times either.

I feel huge anxiety every time I move into new interactions because people want to say the right thing to me. People want to give me comfort, want to embrace me, and when they do, the wound opens up fresh, the emotion threatens to send me sobbing in the arms of near strangers.

I wonder how people would react, casual acquaintances, when offering condolences, if I did just let myself cry in their arms.

The hardest part is staving off that wave of emotions with every new “I am so sorry for your loss.”

I know, I should just let it out right…I was taught to stuff it. It is not so easy to overcome that teaching.

Sometimes I want to carry around a notepad and just write out what I am feeling, for me that is so much easier.

I stumble over my spoken word, it cannot convey what it is that I feel. Spoken words for me just tumble around like rough rocks in my mouth. I cannot speak the depth of love and gratitude that I have, the depth of grief, I cannot speak tears into my eyes.

Uggggg......

In previous posts I had gone off on a vent of my evals...I was venting and was very much in my emotions and not in my thinking brain. Meaning I did not think how my words might affect other people. So I blogged, venting some frustration not realizing that I might hurt someone and I did.

I have had a lot of time to process those evals and the end it was my pride that was hurt, it still is, and so I vented. Not because the evals were inacurate, but because they were. It was difficult to deal with the feedback.

It is a tough line to tow, one which doesn't offend when you are offering up your rawness. I risked a lot and for that I am sorry. My intention was not to hurt but to get my frustrations out. I was too specific.

Those who read this blog should know that it was a momentary feeling that I let sit on the pages of this blog. I considered changing it awhile ago but I didn't.

I apologize, I really do, everyone at MLL is amazing and I have learned both from my positive and diffficult interactions. I have learned some humility but I have so very far to go in so many ways.

Some might say that I should not censur myself and on some things I think I shouldn't but when it is a shared experience, it is a difficult judgement to make ya know?

At any rate it is late and I need some sleep...

I feel like I share so much of the beauty of my experiences here, and that mainly is what is expressed here(I would say 95% is joy). Part of that beauty is the contrast, the difficulty of this hard work and the level of intimacy that you have, the beauty of serving as a midwife, the priviledge of learning.

10 minute list

I have 10 minutes, thought it would be fun to make a list of things that I have experienced birth and prenatal wise in my time here that I am grateful for. It has been huge learning:

1. Nuchal hands in abundance
2. Babies in the caul
3. Only one nuchal chord
4. Placenta previa
5. Palpating a breech (a few times)
6. Polyhydramnios
7. Oliohydramnios
8. varicosities in strange places(I won't get too descriptive but you can guess)
9. caput
10. molding
11. 2 minute second stages
12. 3 hour second stages
13. PIH
14. Gestational Diabetes
15. Fainters
16. Hemmorhage
17. Placentas with various insertions:velimentous, battledor
18. Heart shaped placentas
19. accesory lobes
20. PROM-prom sucks
21. SROM that soaks through scrubs if you don't put on the waterproof gown.
22. Painless birth
23. Women who suffer in labor
24. 42 year old primips
25. 16 year old multips

and so much more. This list actually only took me 5 minutes! Cool tomatoe huh?

Instant sisters...just add birth and mix

It has been quiet here, in my blog but I would like to pose this question to the lovely human beings who read here. I would love to hear your responses.

I have been thinking quietly about the profound loss of so many things in our femininity, our connections to other women mainly, mirroring our connections to the devine feminine. I think of how as women we have so few things that link us together and how we can be so suspicious of each others motivations. It is difficult to trust one another at times because we have been so wounded by our culture (wether it is family culture or the culture that surrounds it)

I see it everyday, this guarding and unguarding that we do...the subtle dance of friendship, the subtle rules and rule breaking. Alliances forming, cliques forming then breaking apart.

It is interesting and painful to be a part of. We are such strong women at MLL, you can imagine how things could get difficult in such an intimate space with so much brillance and insecurity at the same time.

I have had some recent interactions with a fellow student that have brought me to place where I wondered if I had grown up, or if I was still stuck in the trauma of being an adolescent girl. It brough me to a time in my life where being "in" was so much more important than being myself. It was/is not pleasant reliving that.

I am in the constant process of healing and moving through painful things, like the birth learning process, the social process learning curve is just as steep here.

I haven't had sisters, I grew up with 5 older brothers. I have instant sisters now, for good or bad. Someone help me understand this whole thing. I am at a bit of a loss right now on how to move through it.

I am serious, share with me your understandings on how this all works...I should have the answers but I don't.

It is a silly plea I know....HELP!

Dreaming

I am going to ramble for a bit to see where this takes me, funny how I don't know....

This weekend I had the opportunity to visit Pam England in Albuquerque. Those of you who don't know who she is should know the title of the book that she wrote "Birthing From Within". At any rate she has been a mentor to me and a transformational figure in my life. How she has mentored me goes way beyond birth, she has taught me to find beauty in the mundane, beauty in what others might see as ugly, beauty in the moment.

She has mentored me to heal myself, silence my judge, nuture my child and develop my inner warrior. I have crossed many thresholds in her presence and for that I am grateful...

I got to see the inner sanctum of her world, her little casita in Albuquerque where she runs BFW and spend at least 2 hours with a cup of tea in my hand and warmth in my heart.

I was so grateful for a peek at how ordinary her life seemed. Sometimes I think the perception that we have of a figurehead of an organization can be that they are untouchable, and though she has never appeared untouchable, I have always thought that I could never aspire to be a person so centered as she is.

I noticed many things as I sat and spoke to this woman one on one. This was the one that was most powerful for me:

She is a master weaver of words. She doesn't speak as most people do, she speaks with tenderness, she speaks with images and she speaks with stories. She uses what she calls "delicious" speech. The words that come from her are carefully chosen for their affect...yes they are hypnotic and she is a master at that hypnotic language.

Some describe her as shamanic and I always wondered what that meant as I have never met a shaman. I always have envisioned that as a mysterious leader as someone who is capable of leading people across profound points in their life through ceremony and ritual. And she does that for many. But she does it unmasked...there isn't a mystery to it. She has mentored many about how to do this leading of parents across a threshold into birth.

I had my 1st mentor training almost 3 years ago but I have not delved into BFW as much as I would like, parts of me where afraid to because it is so very unconventional. My conventionalized mind couldn't always accept it.

And I see here at MLL how much it has helped me. I would like to bring a little BFW to the new students coming in. I think it might have a profound affect on how they experience MLL.

So why did I title this post dreaming? Not because I am dreaming of BFW but because of a story that Pam told me about how we dream our reality, how our perceptions influence our joy and how much we open our hearts to people.

How do we dream our lives?

I will give an example....

The photos I post here are of pure things, it is intentional that I do this. I love to capture the pure joy of moments. I think it sets the feeling tone before you read, dear readers.

So what if I posted photos ugly things, a piece big piece of raw meat or a car crash...

How would you then begin to dream my posts? How would you then receive my words with this simple change?

Pam gave and example that I will summarize:

When you are walking out in nature, up in the mountains, or surrounded by tall lush trees in the forest, how to you greet people as you pass each other on the path? Notice what your eyes and mind do when you see people in this setting.

Think of a dangerous city that you know imagine yourself walking there midday, how do you greet people? What do your eyes and mind do there?

Both of these situations are interesting are they not? In one setting you might "dream" people to be gentle and smiling. In the other you "dream" people to be in a hurry or to have poor intentions.

It is a really simple concept, one that most people are aware of. Pam calls it "dreaming" because it is something of the mind
and only of the mind that we create.

Then translate into your birth life if you are a doula or a birthing mother. How do your "dream" a cesarean birth with lots of interventions? Now how do your "dream" a homebirth lit by candlelight and warmed by soft music.

Most of the people who read this would dream the 1st one as awful and the other as lovely and transformational.

But haven't we met many individuals who would dream the opposite dreams that one was scary and the other predictable.

And we judge them as wrong.

Pam would argue that these are just judgements that we have and that homebirth or cesarean could have the same level of transformation...one doesn't have to be good or bad. It is how we help, as care providers, to shape the dream that is so important.

she rocks many worlds.

Ancient Ones

How can words describe a world made clean by snow...the tracks of history somehow made pure by the white blanket that covered it?

The only footprints visible were the ones made by our explorations on Saturday afternoon in the mountains of New Mexico above Albuquerque...

How such an amazing place was made empty could be explained by the 29 degree temperature and the new snowfall.

But what fun we had exploring the maze of below ground dwellings, that had existed way before a mission was created over 200 years ago.

"What remains today are austere yet beautiful reminders of the early contact between Pueblo Indians and Spanish Colonials. The ruins of four mission churches, at Quarai, Abó, and Gran Quivira and the partially excavated pueblo of Las Humanas or, as it is known today, Gran Quivira. Established in 1980 through the combination of two New Mexico State Monuments and the former Gran Quivira National Monument, the present Monument comprises a total of 1,100 acres."

This is an excerpt from the state government website, that it defines it as a mission is astounding. The mission church is such a small part of the ruins, the Pueblo people existed in that place long before religion imposed its structures. There are reminents of Kivas and sacred ceremony sites around the large church.

snow in our backyard!!!

and what do california boys do when it is freezing outside?

Sacred ground

"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

Birth Standing

Writting a specific birth story is challenging because of all of the births I have seen in the past three months, they blend together. I was going to write about my last catch but I am not so great at narrative. I thought it better to write some of the more intense moments instead, kinda like looking through a photo album of snapshots of the past 3 months here.

I could even catagorize them according to interesting little details no?

Moms standing and squatting during pushing...

1. A mama came in pushing, we brought helped her to the "peach room", barely had time to put a chux down, before her baby came out hollering. Her huband stood behind her and held her elbows as she squatted with each back to back contraction and pushed. None the less, he had a backache afterward.

2. Sylvia...one of the strongest woman I have ever seen. A 3rd time birthing machine, she followed her instincts so amazingly. She birthed standing until the head began to come, then moved gracefully to the birth stool where to rest of that 9 1/2lb baby came sliding out. We were a little worried as the heart tones slipped below 90bpm as the head was compressed (very normal but it always seems to bring a bit of worry into the room). Baby came out a litte gunky but beautifully pink.

3. The first time I assisted was with a momma standing. The baby's head came sllllllowly out without restitution and then had some sticky shoulders. A slow 2 minutes ticked by before we moved her to the bed into McRoberts, that seemed to work to birth the rest of the body. The baby was great and the parents were estatic. The whole labor and birth we had been speaking in Spanish. As the momma received her little girl, she looked at all of us and said "OH THANK YOU, I am so happy"

A little side note:

I have seen a lot of sticky shoulders, for awhile I was equating it with bed dystocia, or "mammas birthing on their backs" dystocia. I don't know now though...I have seen hands and knees dystocia too. I also used to think that dystocias were caused by directed pushing too, but that theory hasn't panned out either. Most of these babies were under 8 lbs too.

I wonder sometimes if the dystocia is about fear, or disturbing the birth space as well. I imagine that Michel Odent would agree...

At any rate, the sticky shoulders have always easily resolved...so maybe that would not define a true dystocia? I am still working it out in my head and may never draw any scientific conculsions. Birth never seems to follow the paridigm of science, there are too many variables to adequately give theories about labor patterns and complication patterns that apply regularly: ie, dystocias are more likely to occur with babies over soo and such weight. It just doesn't seem to happen that way....

I was talking about birth stories was I not? It is so easy to get off topic...part of my writing is processing all of these experiences and information. To be continued.

Mother Nature

I haven't written in awhile, things continue to flow for us well here with a few stops and starts, minor glitches. It seems like conflict would be more exciting for a blog no? I haven't written much because life here seems to continue to astound me, energize and lift me up. I feel like a broken record. If you don't want to hear me wax philiosphical, read the last paragraph, it contains the birth story.

I really do believe that the power behind your emotions is what drives how your life unfolds. Life unfolds sweetly now, the glitches seem so minor that they are not worth putting much energy into complaining about (housework, homework, car repairs, ocassional grumpy children, ocassional grumpy staff members and students).

So the "feeling sense", the power behind these lovely feelings, continues to be the lense through which I am viewing my time here. Good good things continue to unfold.

I could write an entire blog on the color of the trees here as they prepare for winter. I understand why so many writers wax poetic about fall and how it sets the world ablaze with its stunning shades of yellow and green against an azure and cloudless sky. The upper valley, where our home is located, is like fairy land to me. I have never lived in a place with grand seasonal changes. I could stand still in our back yard for awhile and just watch the yellow leaves of trees drift gently down and make feathery piles on the green grass. Sometimes, after dropping off the kids at school, I drive aroud the neighborhood just to look at Pecan orchards in their seasonal bloom.

Silly, sentimental me. Natures beauty has always been my church. As a child it cradled me, as an adult it feeds my soul.

I almost titled this post "PRAYER" because of the power of it, prayer in nature, prayer in birth...

My last catch brought tears to my eyes because of that power. That was the way this laboring mom coped with the intensity of her labor....she had her rosary beads in her hands, and at the peak of contraction she whispered a prayer to the Virgin Mary and rubbed on the beads. It was stunning to watch her draw on the power of that. Her voice was so soft, her words inaudible and sacred. Her body moved instinctively to that ritual. She moved in a circle around the room, moved her hands to the circle of the beads. Her voice circled through the prayer over and over again.

Ok, I ran out of time...will post the entire story next entry. The point is though that mother nature is amazing, I see it around me and I get to see it in this midwifery journey. Trees, mammas, babies...

Cowboys in our garage

There are 2-not one, but 2 Ford f-150 huge, deluxe, cattle guards and gun racks, fully loaded trucks in our front yard. Are they strange neighbors? Are they looking for things to shoot in the wilds of the Rio Grande? Are they farmhands at the neaby ranches? Are they chasing down a lost horse that may be roaming the open fields down the street?

Nope folks none of the above...they are here, in my house, staring over my dear husband's shoulders in our garage learning to make biodesel. Yep-these cowboy hatted booted mustashed tobacco chewing lovely folks are getting chemistry lessons in our garage.

Those Ford-150's? Yep Diesel trucks that run on recycled, converted veggie oil.

You think Californias are forward thinking folks, and Texans are assbackward? Nope-yer wrong.

I have met more mammas here (outside of the birth clinic) who co-sleep, elimination train, extended breastfeed, home birth in the few short months we have been here than most of my parenting years in San Diego.

Mind you, we are 5 miles from the border of New Mexico. That has something to do with it. Our kids are in Montessori school and that has something to do with it to.

I really thought I would be miserable here. I am not. Kids, husband even the dog is happy here. Arno is in heaven, he is teaching bio diesel to some cowboys. Plus he starts a very lucrative job next week...though sigh, his 1st paycheck doesn't come until January 15th.

Are you all trembling in your California Birkenstocks dear friends in San Diego?

I miss the sand, I miss the ocean, I miss my family, I miss my dear grandmother who just got out of the hospital. I miss my California king sized bed. I miss my long time friends. I miss you all!

Ps-My darling 5 year old made the society pages of the Diario. He was at a Holloween birthday party and in troops newspaper man to take photos of kids. I am a pround mama. Sorry the photo is not turned correctly.

Hands and Knees

Everyday joys of life in the clinic...
1. Watching a mom who waited 4 long years to concieve rub her belly in joy, her eyes welling up with tears. I get choked up myself. She listens for a full minute to her baby's heartrate on the fetoscope, her eyes closed and a smile on her face.

2. "Que nombre le vas a poner?" one of the staff (a native speaker) asks a little girl what name they are going to give her little brother. The little girl's answer? "hermanito" or "little brother", Como? responds the staff asking her to repeat it, the little girl answers "con marcador"
It is a language joke of course ...the word como could be interpreted two ways, you use it when you want someone to repeat something but it also means "how?"-well with a marker of course, that is how we will put his name on him. The expression in Spanish is "what name will you put on the baby" which can be a literal interpretation to a 4 year old.

3. A dad really trying to be macho but sobbing in the corner where the midwives hear him but don't see him. His little boy just entered the world.

4. A mom birthing on hands and knees to a baby that enters the world sunny side up and crying before the shoulders are born (my 3rd catch)

5. The 9 centimeter expression "I can't do this anymmore"

6. The color of the 7 am morning sun on the 1930's building across the street- illuminated amber. For me it signifies another beautiful beginning of the day.

7. A wise 15 year old crying upon the arrival of her baby, kissing her 17 year old husband. No fear, no shame, just pure joy.

8. Babies coming out with nuchal hands, nuchal cords, lower than anticipated heart tones. No forceps, no vacums, no cesareans, they just come out with love and patience and freedom of movement.

The fullness of the moment

My very sweet man brought home this cake last night. I wanted to open the bottle of champagne but we decided chocolate might be wiser.
Really there is no new thing to celebrate, but as days go by I feel like I am growing, expanding, learning and experiencing joy that I never thought was possible. I am moving beyond judging to being in the moment. It is quite an awakening to be capable of doing this and brings fullness to my life.

Things are tough yes, so very very difficult. I get tired and cranky, it is hard work, things unfold at MLL that I don't always agree with. There is such beauty in the clinic too and the families there. I will share some of these moments in a bit. 1st here is a quote that I sniped (with permission) off of the BFW mentor board from Isabel Hoskins:

"All of life and self being in HARMONY with the Tao and/or God's Plan/Love, whatever term one comes to, is quite different to me than saying it is all good. It is moving beyond good and bad and am embracing the FULLNESS of all that exists, that within violence and oppression and horror their is also light and love and beauty and it is impossible to ever really separate out the distinction, where one ends and the other begins or the cause and effect. In the end we are left with the events and though we may define them on the surface as "bad" did they not bring us where we are today, to the gifts we know and claim? We can never seperate it. It just becomes what IS, which is an embracing of the Harmony that is the Way. To move beyond good birth/bad birth, right birth/wrong birth, good self/bad self/, and see that perhaps such terminology is, though understandable, forever limiting for ourselves and experience. - there is great power here. "

I couldn't have said it better really.

Only to be awoken 45 minutes later....

A continuation of the last post...

...only to be awoken 45 minutes later. I was in a dream still I thought as I helped the room set up for a mom who was at 8cm after her labor check. She entered the room saying "Ay quiero empujar" I glanced at her face and wondered what magic had brought her into my life for my 1st catch. This woman was stunning, filled with that incredible light and energy that gets a baby out. She was flushed from her work, skin glistening,the picture of perfection with this dad who was also smitten with her glow. Selma Hayek meets Aztec godess...

This was an instance where I literally just caugh the baby. She laid down and after a few pushes, this child litteraly launched out of her. I had my hands out to receive as the baby was crowning, looked up at her to say "sople, sople" to let the perinuem stretch a little. That second of looking away to her face, the baby came out with this popping sound and launched into my hands. If they hadn't been there, I think that little man would have hit my chest. I fumbled a bit and placed little Jesus Abraham on her belly. The staff midwife looked at me and said "did you hear that?" Yes, was my reply," what was that?" " Shoulders" was her reply. I am still wrapping my head around that one, not sure what that was, I think perhaps just pressure of fluid behind him that helped him on his way. He surfed into the world. Hang ten little guy.

This family was so lovely, 1st words out of dad's mouth were. "Your service is so much better here!" which gave us all a laugh. Their last baby had been born in Juarez and 3 years later mom still had pain from her epis (she had to be sutured again for this birth and had torn on the same line)

Dad was so exited, he wanted to see the placenta, the chord-its vessels, he was a litinay of questions for the rest of the night (even at 3am)

It was nice really, all perfect, the placenta came on its own, 3/4c blood loss. Baby latched right away. Etc, etc, etc....

Whew.