My second catch

When I saw her there—In her trailer-- Mouth opened, eyes closed, holding on to the sink as if the edge was threatening to fall—and it was threatening to fall--and she knew it. I was momentarily rendered speechless and motionless--A strange non- movement . In that briefness of second, that tiny place offered me her grace.

There I was, in a trailer park, with a mama who knew nothing of Ina May or Marsden Wagner. She hadn’t taken a hypnobirthing class or a birthing from within workshop. She hadn’t taken any class, to be exact. She didn’t know about legislation. She would not have classified herself as fringe or radical. She didn’t eat organic foods or buy non-toxic locally made toys. She drank instant coffee. She ate American cheese. She had never heard of waiting to clamp the cord. She was wide-eyed when we told her about lotus birth. I am sure we were the craziest bunch of women she had ever met. Her husband jokingly called us her “witchy women”.

She chose homebirth because something inside of her told her that she and her baby deserved it. She didn’t understand why they needed all those tests and machines and fears. This was her third baby. The other two came just fine, why wouldn’t this one? She knew she deserved more than 5 minutes with the person who she was allowing to witness her birth. She knew that she was being given substandard care, partly because she was on Medicaid, but mostly because this was standard American birthing.

So, there she was, in her bathroom, in transition, and all alone. Her older kids were with grandma, her husband on his way home from work. I watched her for that briefest of minutes and saw a mama who was tapped into an ancient source. I could feel it walking down her hall. I knew when I opened that door that she was going to be well into herself. I was honored to be invited there with her. I didn’t want to disturb her. When she looked up and noticed me, she gave a crooked smile and asked if she was OK. I nodded. She moved to the tub.

When her husband came in a few minutes later, I knew she was ready to release the baby. I knew the midwife was not going to make it. He gathered up some supplies for me and we both sat, awestruck by this primal mama. Earlier he had told me that he really didn’t like to be at the births. He complained about the sights, the sounds, the smells…He admitted he wouldn’t be much use. But, there he was—sitting with me on their bathroom floor, worshiping his wife and her super-powers.

Suddenly she jolted out of the tub and dashed to her bedroom. She lay flat on her back on her bed, not a position I would have suggested. But this mama knew what her baby and her body needed. She hadn’t needed any coaching so far; she trusted herself and I trusted her. I turned the lights down low. Her husband handed me warmed towels. When her baby slipped into my hands a few minutes later he laid a warmed blanket over his daughter and helped me put her on his wife’s chest. Their daughter gave a minor protest. With each breath we watched as the pinkness radiated out from her heart until every part of her was rosy and full and content with her new home. She watched her mama and her papa and drifted right off to sleep. We waited to cut the cord until well after she had delivered the placenta. She spent a good couple of hours, snuggled in the dim light of dawn---mama, baby, papa.

While I was doing the newborn exam a few hours later, I heard her husband on the phone relaying their good news. He was bragging about the dim lights, the delayed cord clamping. He even bragged that his wife didn’t need a single vaginal exam. He told the person on the other end how they “don’t let you do this stuff in hospitals”.

And there you have it: two people spreading the word about normal birth. Two folks who will go on to help others in their community reclaim their rights to birth how they choose and where they choose. Two people who would never identify as radical or as fringe or as activists, but who knew birth had so much more to offer them than what Western Medicine was letting on. They knew something was missing, they found it, and hopefully they will never shut up about it. Shout it from the rooftops, dear new friends.