That Time My Midwife Was Out of Town

Today I was reminded of a conversation I had with my midwife regarding the impending birth of my fourth (and last) child. It went something like this:

Midwife: Now, I’ll be gone to the National Midwifery Whatever on so and so to yada yada yada. But I think you’ll be fine!

Me: (long stare)

I just KNEW she wouldn’t make it.

This is where most pregnant women panic. I’ve entrusted myself to this person. She has examined my most private places, given me knowledgeable advice, told me how she met her husband, etc.

And NOW she drops this bomb out of nowhere?! How was I to cope, much less react?!

The morning before the day my son was born my family went blackberry picking. It was Memorial Day weekend in Texas…glorious! As I sat up in bed after a much needed nap, my bag of waters ruptured. It was time!

And my midwife was off improving herself. Gah!

The happy ending is that my son was born about 27 hours later with the help of the backup midwife (never been pregnant, bless her) and without the midwife I originally hired to support me.

Luke's Birthday

I did the work of the laboring woman. Me!

That’s not to say that I’m not eternally grateful for the guidance of my beloved midwife, Margie, who came to help when she heard I was in need. (This angel supported me in my previous three births.)

What I want to say is that it’s YOU, mama, YOU who are the star of your birth! You can do this hard thing, because, darn it, who else is gonna do it?

It’s your holy task — one that you are fully equipped to sojourn and conquer!

Do not fear the unknown; embrace it! It is not to be feared simply because it is mysterious. Revered…yes. But feared? Never!

You have what it takes to have an amazing birth!

Until next time…

Jennifer