Mama to (Mama) Midwife-A Journey from Chicago, to Flagstaff, to Sedona…..

My second child turned 5 this week. Obviously, his birth, like all the other 3, is extremely meaningful and special to me. But his birth (and the weeks preceding it) marks MY journey and MY birth on the road to becoming an Arizona midwife. I find it fascinating how our own babies, and our own birth stories, can set us on a completely different path. I recorded his birth story 5 years ago, but am recording it again as I remember it now. The “original” version is pure, and perhaps the “real story”. This version comes out of my hands now, 5 years later; and for better or worse, not just as a mom, but a homebirth midwife in Sedona.

My pregnancy with Egan was healthy and happy. I was vegetarian and spent a lot of time doing yoga and meditation. My first birth, 2 years prior, was a “natural” hospital birth that left me wondering how I would handle the pain again. It also left me wondering how, this time, I could have the experience I really wanted. An unhindered birth, where my baby and I were safe and protected. I was still at a very “status quo” period in my life, and had never really considered homebirth. I had been seeing an OB at the local hospital in Chicago, who I liked. When it became clear to me that she wasn’t likely to be on call for my birth, I switched to the practice of nurse-midwives at the same hospital. I will never forget my first appointment–I was about 33 weeks pregnant. I don’t remember the midwife’s name, but I loved her. She listened to me, and was able to ease my fear about the baby being posterior (I had an awfully long and painful first, posterior labor), at least at that appointment, by using her hands. She listened to me. (Yes, I know I just typed that!) I remember feeling like, yes!! This is what I need for this birth.

I had hired a doula to help me navigate the hospital; once again. She was great, and to this day, I give her a good deal of credit for “showing me the light” of homebirth. At one of our last home visits ( I was 36 weeks), we went over the famous birth plan. I sat there, pregnancy hormones and all, and cried. And cried. How I didn’t want this, and I didn’t want that. How more than anything I didn’t want to be separated from my new baby. She was very calm, but looked at me directly and said something like, “It’s not too late to have this baby at home”.

To say a lightbulb went off is putting it mildly. I am a smart person. I am educated. I SHOULD have chosen a homebirth a whole lot sooner, but I was not ready. Like a spiritual person wanting conversion, I could not be converted until the time was right. Her words made total sense to me. And I never looked back. (And this is also one of the main reasons I have since gone on to do what I do–I realize there are COUNTLESS women out there who are now where I was. The perfect “specimens” for homebirth. Healthy, responsible. But they just don’t KNOW that it is an option). Anyway, I digress.

The next day I called several midwives. Illinois is an “illegal” state for anyone attending homebirths that is NOT a doctor or a nurse midwife. It’s funny to me now how my first instinct was to find a nurse-midwife, because the “direct entry” midwives weren’t legal. We interviewed the nurse-midwife and simply put, she was full of fear. Now, at this point I did not “know” very much. But I was not willing to even think about having this baby in fear. After meeting with her, I thought the hospital didn’t seem so bad. And to this day that sticks with me. I am not a fearful person or a fearful midwife. But I realize that at interviews, it is really easy to focus on all the fear and complications and “what-ifs”. I realize that who I am as a midwife was not only formed by the midwife that we eventually chose, but also the midwife I did not want (to be).

Needless to say, the other midwife we interviewed was a direct entry midwife. And exactly what I needed at that time. Yet another HUGE lesson learned as now the tables have turned. As a midwife, and even as a mom, you can get in all the criticisms of this midwife or that one, and what she did, and who hired her and why, etc. But the truth is, women find the midwife they need. I will say, we were perhaps naive in our questions for her and pretty much hired her on the spot. She was attentive to me and my baby, not put off by the fact that I was 37 weeks, and confidently predicted a wonderful birth around my due date (my first had been 3 weeks early, so it was a huge fear of mine). Long story short, she was the midwife for me.

As the birth grew closer, I sorted through a lot of fears and felt really ready. The day before he was born, I started noticing contractions every 5 minutes. They didn’t hurt, but I noticed them. My mom was visiting and we spent the day walking around Chicago with my daughter. The exercise felt good and I was happy to be out one final time, pregnant with this baby. I remember watching TV that nite, still noticing contractions every 5 minutes. I went to bed, but by about 2 am, I couldn’t sleep. The contractions were short but feeling like a lot of pressure. I remember feeling bad about calling the midwife at 2 am, not being in “real labor”, but eventually did. I had to page her, but she did not call back. I think I ended up calling the doula, who eased my fears and told me to rest. She said she’d check on me in the morning.

I slept/labored on the couch all night. By morning, I was feeling it a lot more and tried to finish up some business. By early afternoon, the midwife showed up and I was a mess. Hadn’t slept at all, was exhausted and hurting. At that point the contractions were really intense. I was crying, and she was telling me I needed to eat and sleep. I sort of cringe at the fact that she gave me Benadryl!! Really! She told me I wasn’t really in labor yet. Again, as a midwife, this has always stayed with me. She was my midwife for a reason, and it wasn’t because she was perfect! It affected me deeply, being told I wasn’t feeling what I was feeling. And that my body wasn’t working. She told me she was going to visit a client in the neighboring state (!), Indiana. I remember lying on my bed, on my hands and knees, just being bowled over by the contractions. It was intense. As a midwife, I marvel now that she never checked me (internally), or even so much as listened to the baby. Crazy! A testament to the fact that birth works, most of the time. But I still wonder WHY she assumed I was not getting ready to have a baby.

Anyway, she left and within an hour I felt the urge to push. I literally sprung off the bed, ripped off my clothes and went to sit on the toilet. (The waterbirth tub was not ready yet, as we had never done that part before and at last notice my husband was told it was gonna be a while….). I will always remember my doula looking me in the face with both confidence and fear, saying, “Well, I can catch a baby”.

I was scared and overwhelmed by the intensity of needing to push. (Come to think of it, my second son’s birth was also this way–the “boy” births seem to be harder and more intense for me than those of the girls.) I remember some of the sac coming out, me feeling it and wondering what the heck it was. I was definitely panicked somehow–thinking I needed someone to do the job at hand. Yet another way I was influenced as a midwife. I try to be present by active labor, at least, and if a woman is distraught in any way, even in “early” labor, I will not leave her. I also try to have the kind of relationship with my clients (and granted, I didn’t afford us this time with this midwife) so that they are feeling centered and calm and glad I am there, but not truly “needing” me in an intense way.

I remember jumping into the birth pool as Jason added chipped ice. It was a very bright Chicago afternoon an we lived on the first floor of a two-flat in a city neighborhood. I was very vocal. I was very loud. I never remembered pushing hurting like this, and the only was I could lessen the pain was to groan. Again, lesson learned. I felt “bad” about it for a while after the birth, like I was supposed to have had this surreal, quite homebirth with candles and Enya. I encourage women now–it doesn’t work that way. You do what you’ve gotta do to get that baby out. You leave yourself open to those possibilities. You go with what your body is telling you.

And my body was telling me to get him out!! The midwife entered as I was in the pool, and within a push his head was out. I heard her tell me to stop pushing, and she jumped into the pool behind me and did something. Turns out he had a little fist by his face, and also several wraps of cord around his neck and armpit. He was born into, albeit, very warm water. He took a while to “come around”–when I think of it now, his color was good but he was not responding very well. Didn’t open his eyes for a bit. I remember, as a mom, not really being worried because I knew he was OK. And funny enough, it really suits his personality now. “Egan” means fiery, and that is certainly what we got, at birth and even now. He blasts his way through everything, leaving no prisoners……

I ended up bleeding a bit (she said) and I do remember my bladder being pretty full. The reminder of needing to pee would have been nice throughout labor. But now that I have had 2 more babies in water, I also know that I am kind of a bleeder. Super healthy, and I don’t loose blood to the point where I feel bad. But the pools usually look a little redder than I as a midwife would be comfortable with.

Anyway, the birth was my crazy foray into homebirth and midwives, and this midwife was no exception! But, after his birth, I could NOT get away from the fact that I envied her job. I realized early on that she was a tad more dramatic than I’d like to be, but that being a midwife seemed like something I wanted to do. I read every book and article I could find, and I have to say, I did get a glimpse at how hard of a job it is. I remember wishing that I could read something, even a birth story, that would make me want to forget it all and go open a cookie shop! Sometimes I still think that–gosh, I love it SO much but my life would really be so much simpler if I didn’t HAVE to do it.

Well, I do seem to have to do it. And I credit the Universe, and my son, and this midwife for opening the door of birth and midwifery to me. Having a homebirth opened my eyes to the wonders of the world, and to the choices we all have every day. It awakened me to my potential as a mother and a woman. My life has never been, and never will be the same.

(Conclusion-I started a formal apprenticeship with another local direct-entry midwife just 4 months later. And 5 (longer) years later, I practice as a Licensed Midwife in Arizona. Having moved from Chicago to Flagstaff, I now serve the Sedona, Flagstaff and Cottonwood areas as a homebirth midwife.)