Meet me in the secret sacred place.

Sometimes I feel like I'm part of a secret world. Like I get to go places no one else is allowed access. I guess I kind of do. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a war zone because the town is so busy and I have a peacekeeper cross on my jacket, that stops the fighting to allow passage. Like I'm some sacred respected healer that even the toughest war strewn fighters will pause and hold space...like there's this unspoken rule about letting the Midwife through. Sometimes my imagination gets carried away.

I drive from one client, high on the mountain, over a one lane bridge, it's crisp and cold and only the tallest of trees hold witness as the pine needles crunch under my feet and I make my way out to my van. I can see my breath, it's cold. I shiver, jump in and begin to drive my way through windy hairpin blind turns, down a one lane paved road that's patched many times over. I don't dare look over the edge that drops straight into an infinite abyss of trees and shrubs. A fleeting image of tall trees catching my mini van that slid off the road crosses my mind and I focus on carefully navigating. I like trees. I love them actually...I drive back across the wooden bridge that passes over the raging angry cold white river below, past the moss covered rocks...soon the road widens and a double yellow paint stripe is down the middle. The trees aren't so tall and the abyss has risen to a visible height with a nice broad shoulder on the road. There are other cars, homes, businesses and finally the familiar freeway. I drive and drive for 80 minutes and find myself in the bustle of downtown. Homeless are on the benches, cars are honking in the rush to zip past pedestrians and slow, likely texting drivers. Advertisements, streetlights, and graffiti now hold witness to my careful navigation. I no longer worry about an abyss, but moreso that I will miss a turn and have to sort through a plethora of one way streets to find myself back where I need to be. I watch the clock, every ticking away to the next appointment. I pick my stop-and-go way down a well known path, through this street and that to finally a familiar back road, lined with trash and padlocked gates. A cautious neighborhood. It's quiet, yet you can feel eyes watching you from covered windows and closed doors. I wouldn't want to be stopped here in the wee hours. I pull up to a gate and punch in a code that allows my quick passage, straight to a huge church. I find my way through the huge empty parking lot, past the abandoned basketballs, past row after row of empty parking spaces and a quiet, well manicured gazebo, around to the back of a large church building. I go to the first of two metal outdoor office type doors with frosted security glass and knock softly. I am transported into the cozy den of a mother, her sweet 5 week old daughter and her toddler watching cartoons in Russian. It's warm and dreamy with essential oil blends melting through the air. Sheepskin covers the couch and a soft, warm, pink baby is nestled up. 

"Good afternoon" I am greeted. I can't help but smile. This beautiful healthy baby, big sis and glowing mother are thriving. Her birth story is enchanting. A beautiful home candlelit water birth. Her baby is a rainbow birth story, a story of healing, of empowerment, of hard preparation and processing rewarded with a victorious HBAC (home birth after cesarean).

I left her home an hour later, softly closing the door behind me after a few goodbyes and hugs, kisses blown from big sis. A thank you card is in my hand and my eyes are misty. She's thanking me and I'm the one who feels like I should thank her. For being allowed to hold witness for her journey. To celebrate with her afterwards. To be turned to and trusted for advice. It was truly my honor. She's moving next month and the little home in the back of the church will be vacant. Perhaps no one else will ever know the magic that happened there. But I do. I look around and burn the image into my brain. I will remember navigating the routes to get to her, punching the secret code on the automated gate, driving around to the back to knock on the right door and find an everyday miracle thriving in that space. It is a secret world. A quiet, hushed, private place that I get to step into. I will remember this cold day, and this warm home. I will remember the paths we both traveled to meet in this sacred space and bear witness to a sacred miracle.

<3

Grateful.