What I wish I could Tell you!

by GrowingFlowers

I’m alone in the house. Again. Treska went to yoga, she drives herself. (A story in itself!) Kaya is at a friend’s home in Arroyo Seco. Falko is fixing my car with the mechanic – Manny.

I started a fire in our Kiva fireplace. It’s not a wood stove, so it doesn’t give as much heat, but it works, its beautiful and serves many purposes. It’s chilly here. Snow is covering the mountain, the zucchini has “frosted.” The leaves are black, wilted. The chard looks great though! Perky and sturdy.

I heated up the coffee from the cooled-down coffee pot in a little pot on the stove. It simmered and it tastes the way heated-up coffee tastes. A bit blacker than normal – but lovely. Cozy. It’s a lovely liquid breakfast. Green tea, coffee and soup. Kaya made a most delicious soup yesterday – read about it here! Reheated coffee, reheated soup. Yum.

My dog, Miso, keeps jumping up on the couch to cozy up – I feel guilty shooshing him down again.

I am wondering a few things. A friend pointed out to me recently, that, due to my love of “writing it down,” documenting and my privilege of being at births and experiencing an intensity in life that isn’t often revealed, that I should be telling more stories. He said, “The potential is great.”

I don’t know how to do this. It is a struggle. I would LOVE to tell you about these births I attend. I’d like to write about the dynamics between the students, the preceptors. To relate the deep bond we feel with our clients often. I’d love to relate a bit of what happens in our prenatal room  - what stories we hear.

I’d like to tell you about a recent hemorrhage that ended in a bloody transport to the hospital. A HCT super low and a mom who hid under the covers.

I’d like to tell you about the little girl who woke me up (I wasn’t the primary midwife) dancing around and singing, “Her water broke, her water broke!”

I’d like to tell you about how hard our students work and how  intense all of this can be on so many different levels.

I’d like to tell you about going to do a prenatal visit 10 miles out-of-town to find a horse on the porch and a mama, flamboyantly dressed in pantaloons!

I’d love to tell you about how, now, every time I smell Cinnamon, I think of blood.

I’d like to tell you about the young, tattooed, gangster girl, tough, who said, over and over again that she was scared. Then pushed her baby out in one push – with so much joy that I thought I would explode from happiness. So did everyone. We all practically burst.

How about the woman who talked to me non-stop as I sutured her? She told me a long and rambling story, always bringing my focus back when she could tell that I had strayed.

I’d love to talk about CB ed classes – how they bolster my spirits when I feel a bit hopeless at the concept of gentle birth. How much I love to get to know these women who trust us to catch their babies.

I’d love to talk about how HARD it can be sometimes. Really. The joy and the bliss keeps us coming back again and again, but sometimes, it can be so deeply challenging that I question it all.

How about the woman whose husband was too drunk to drive to the birth? How he had gotten out of jail and was “celebrating” – he couldn’t drive and almost missed the birth. I’d love to tell you how she looked ecstatic when he walked in and then immediately began to push! Laughing and crying.

And how about the tears, the wails, the deep breathing, the glowing and unbearable beauty these women in labor have? I wish I could take pictures of them all, as they work so hard, and show you – show everyone what natural birth looks like.

I want to write, again and again, what it feels like to drive these dirt roads, these super bumpy roads to a home, in the mountains, in the town, in the desert and what it feels like to be invited in with so much gratitude to homes.

How about the time we had, literally, two murderers in the Birth Center at the same time! One was the husband of a client, one was the mother. I liked them both! (A lot)

How it feels to be in the rain, the snow, the hail, the blistering sun, while women labor, men support, children sleep and all the weather happens outside, just like normal. Like every day.

 

I wish I could tell you about all of this.