Midwives are Born

by GrowingFlowers

I am realizing more and more why I write this blog. I forget everything that I don’t write down. Seriously.

This is one heck of a glorious fall, I suspect it may be the most beautiful in years. Perhaps a combination of the cold snap, the excessive rain and the warm days have made for brilliant oranges, yellows and even reds here in New Mexico. I feel a craving to be outdoors, in the trees. I love the smell of the dead leaves, it brings me right back to my childhood on the east coast. And I feel frustrated to not be able to capture these glowing trees on my camera. I would like to share the insane light that is captured in these leaves. I mean, it is illuminated and breathtaking. I look around and I have stop my car every few minutes to try and take it all in. I just want to BITE it.

We’ve had a sweet fall. My aunt and uncle from Phoenix came to visit and we hiked, soaked in two different hot springs, ate yummy roasted chicken and veggies slathered in fresh herbs (sage, rosemary and thyme) from the garden. Kaya made orange blossom panna cotta! We also ate the coconut, corn, curry dish. I love when company comes, I find the energy to really cook the meals I would like to prepare every night!

We had a birth later in the week and it worked out that Treska and I were primaries together. At each birth there is one midwife and one student for the labor. They work together making decisions, supporting and loving up the laboring woman. We spent the night with a laboring mom and I watched as Treska encouraged, swayed, rocked, massaged and whispered to this mama who was working so hard. It’s amazing to see the students as they grow from observers to midwives. We birth midwives here.

I loved writing that last post, “What I Wish I Could Tell You!” and it made me realize how much I’d like to write so many of the birth stories. I would like to try to give more of that part of this life. I can change dates, identifying features, names and perhaps divulge a bit more. I have been saving birth stories, writing them down in order to remember them. It is easy to forget them over the years.

I wish I could bring some more brutal honesty to the birth stories, show you what really goes on in these birth rooms. The rawness, the vulnerability, the power,  the fear, the intensity. The funniness. Is that a word? The giggling.

I loved doing a birth, once, in which two young teens attended, desperately curious, yet embarrassed to look. They sat together in a chair, their skinny  little bodies scrunched up, knees up, hands on their faces, covering their eyes. Both wore high ponytails. Peeking and giggling. Their bodies trembled with laughter, quiet and sometimes louder. Adorable. I talked with them a bunch and told them that they really should watch, if they felt like they could handle it. Gave them permission – each one was just dying to look, but embarrassed at what the other would think if they did, indeed look. So, with big smiles and big eyes, they watched the baby be born.

Babies are born, Midwives are born, Mamas are born, Families……..

Over and Over again.

About these ads