I can't.
I checked her 3 hours ago. She was 8 centimeters. Her last baby came in 4 hours. I know she's complete. I can hear it in her noises, I can tell by her movements.
I wonder what's holding her back. What's she thinking about?
Her doula, her husband and I continue to whisper words of encouragement.
Finally she finds her hands and knees next to the bed and she says "I can't. I can't climb in a bed again. I can't get on my back and push like that. I can't have.....People telling me to push and do this and do that. I don't want to do that again." and the tears began to flow.
I find myself on my hands and knees and there is her husband on hands and knees. And we all put our hands in the middle and we talked. We talked about old birth stories, and how they had their time and place. We talked about how those babies are grown into children. We talked about giving space for this baby. This story. This birth. We talked about making a choice to surrender to this journey. Having come so far it seemed silly to stop trusting now. And so we boxed up those thoughts and we put them on a shelf to bring down later.
She said "When should I take my pants off?"
I said "When you feel like taking that one small step towards letting this baby be born."
And so she did.
And I never said "push." Not once. We whispered words of encouragement, and reminded her to continue to trust her body and allow her baby to come. She got to be in charge.
And hands and knees I was, and her, and her husband, as their baby came gently out on the floor--NEXT to the bed. She reached down between and pulled up their precious little surprise baby. And a story of healing was born with the lusty cries of a beautiful baby girl.
And I was reminded why I became a Midwife, why I chose homebirth and why I will continue to support and encourage mothers seeking healing births at home.
I will hold space for this. Always.
I wonder what's holding her back. What's she thinking about?
Her doula, her husband and I continue to whisper words of encouragement.
Finally she finds her hands and knees next to the bed and she says "I can't. I can't climb in a bed again. I can't get on my back and push like that. I can't have.....People telling me to push and do this and do that. I don't want to do that again." and the tears began to flow.
I find myself on my hands and knees and there is her husband on hands and knees. And we all put our hands in the middle and we talked. We talked about old birth stories, and how they had their time and place. We talked about how those babies are grown into children. We talked about giving space for this baby. This story. This birth. We talked about making a choice to surrender to this journey. Having come so far it seemed silly to stop trusting now. And so we boxed up those thoughts and we put them on a shelf to bring down later.
She said "When should I take my pants off?"
I said "When you feel like taking that one small step towards letting this baby be born."
And so she did.
And I never said "push." Not once. We whispered words of encouragement, and reminded her to continue to trust her body and allow her baby to come. She got to be in charge.
And hands and knees I was, and her, and her husband, as their baby came gently out on the floor--NEXT to the bed. She reached down between and pulled up their precious little surprise baby. And a story of healing was born with the lusty cries of a beautiful baby girl.
And I was reminded why I became a Midwife, why I chose homebirth and why I will continue to support and encourage mothers seeking healing births at home.
I will hold space for this. Always.
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