I was being interviewed. She leaned forward in her chair, a page full of notes on her lap. She began to tick off her list… “I want someone to take care of me who will know what to do if something goes wrong, but basically—if things are cool—I want them to stay out of my face! “How do you feel about that?” she asked, throwing down the gauntlet.
Before I could respond she continued, “Do you believe that women can know things about birth without being taught? Do you have expectations of the people you take care of? Would you insist that I go to those ridiculous childbirth classes? Do you need to be in control, or can we be partners in my care?”
Finally, she paused and took a deep breath—looked me straight in the eye—waiting for my reply.
“These are good questions and I am happy to answer them, but first…I would like to hear the story of your last birth,” I asked her.
She sighed and closed her eyes, as if remembering. She didn’t speak for a long time, and then…“I had such hopes for a natural birth. I was healthy. I read books. Took childbirth classes.” She hesitated…I waited…
”When I went into labor I did everything I had been taught to do, but there came a moment when I felt this primal energy sneak up and rip through me—like out of nowhere. I felt like a mighty, powerful animal. I thought, ‘Fuck all this fancy breathing stuff’…I wanted to roar and shout and strut and throw myself all over the room. I started to go there, but then I thought…what is happening to me? Doubt came in… Trust myself? Trust others? My body was telling me one thing, my intellect another. I felt like there was a fight going on in my brain. I wanted to be a good patient and do what I had been taught, but the urge to do otherwise felt compelling and dangerous. So then I panicked and tried to stuff what I was feeling. My labor stalled out. I thought I was going crazy and started crying. The nurses persuaded me to take some medication to get ‘back in control’. It only made me feel confused and I cried more. It was awful. My baby got born eventually, but I feel that I failed myself somewhere in the midst of it all. I don’t want that to happen again,” she said.
She looked at me expectantly…I smiled, ”You have SO come to the right person!” I assured her. “I support women and their deep instincts. I believe that they know what to do when they trust and rely on their innate wisdom. I will keep you safe so you are free to give birth in your own way with your own voice. We will do this together.”
Throughout her prenatal care our relationship deepened. I came to know and respect her strengths and needs. We developed a trust in each other.
She went into labor in the middle of the night. I slipped quietly into the hospital birthing room. The lights were dim. She and her husband were dancing cheek to cheek to a Frank Sinatra song playing on a CD player on the dresser. Their eyes were closed. She was moaning—his arms supported her as they moved around the room. Slowly he opened his eyes, smiled, and whispered gently, “This is the prom we never had.”
They continued to dance. Sometimes she would pull away and drop to the floor. He would sit in the corner, watching her with frank adoration. Sometimes he would lie down beside her, massaging her back and legs. She was completely absorbed in her oceanic rhythms, wave after wave sweeping over her.
I remained still—a protector in the wings, watching over this family—listening to the strong, steady heartbeat of the baby, captivated by the power of this woman. Occasionally she looked in my direction—checking in. I smiled and gently nodded my head “yes”—letting her know that she was perfect and safe—that what she was doing was working.
Suddenly—her eyes bolted open. She was kneeling on the floor, bent over the bed. I could hear a deep, guttural grunt in her breath. “Oh no,” she exclaimed. “Damn!”
“What’s wrong,” I asked.
“I can’t believe it,” she uttered in dismay. “I’m pushing already. I was having such a great time; now my labor is ending!” After three more contractions, squatting there by the bedside, she delivered a healthy baby boy. I was stunned…I had never met anyone who felt that their birth experience was too short!
Women continue to amaze me when they are able to bring both sides of the brain together like this—cognition and instinct. They go into the zone, and I think they find a treasure box there that reveals to them a greater possibility to transcend the limits of their ordinary human experience. In addition to a baby…an unexpected gift.
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