I admit as I write this first blog post that it feels a bit unnecessary. There are many comprehensive and inspired books and blogs that honor the miraculous design of birth. I do however, enjoy reading stories and insights from other people and birthworkers. Inspiration, determination, and independence are after all the reason that I find myself remaining connected to this part of the human experience (birth).

When I first began my journey into motherhood I had studied the human body and trusted its miraculous design. I never questioned my own ability to bend my elbow let alone birth a baby. Armed with confidence I entered my first labor experience with closed minded determination to proceed with natural birth. I was unsuspecting, however, of just how little the medical system cared about my experience and/or ability to give birth unmedicated and without intervention.

Though my first baby was born after a relatively short labor without medication, multiple interventions occurred immediately following the birth that dramatically impacted my postpartum experience. After a (large) episiotomy that I did not want (or consent to) my full term son was born and his cord was immediately clamped and cut. He proceeded to have difficulty initiating breathing independently and was taken by the staff who likely proceeded with the steps of neonatal resuscitation. Whisked away I did not get to attempt to breastfeed for around 24 hours (although thankfully a nurse guided me into using a breast pump).

I left this experience with the knowledge that I wanted to have more children and they would be born in a different way. I wanted emotional support throughout my pregnancy and birth, I did not want to have to advocate for myself (no more episiotomies thank you very much), and I did not want to be separated from my newborn baby (hello delayed cord clamping). I researched my local options and came up with hospital based midwives (who act like doctors), a certified nurse midwife (CNM), and a traditional midwife. Being from a medical background I chose the CNM, feeling that any health care provider must be licensed and educated by a university.

I went on to have two home births with the CNM. These were amazing, fast (less than 1 hour each), empowering experiences. My midwife supported my decisions and even though she almost missed the first birth (and did miss the second), I felt that I had succeeded in my search for a birth that supported my body and its design. During this time I also began feeling out how I could be part of the birth world. Would I learn to adapt my university training to supporting pregnant women? Would I be a Spinning Babies instructor? Would I teach childbirth classes?

I did eventually do a bit of training in each of those arenas. When I came to my fourth pregnancy I had begun to look for a different midwife experience. Who knew that midwives themselves could have so much variety?! I had been helping host a support group of sorts for local home birthing families for nearly a decade at this point. The traditional midwife I had located after the birth of my son was leading them in her home initially. Although I eventually took her place as the host, her presence allowed me the opportunity to develop a friendship with her. So much so that for that fourth birth I decided I would use her as my midwife.

I didn’t know this at the time but choosing her to be my midwife would alter the course of my own life and career. I was mostly a stay at home mom at this time and didn’t expect to begin working in any capacity until my kids were grown. Her care impacted me so deeply that when she asked for my assistance in helping first time mom with a long labor I immediately said yes. While helping with that birth I started having the idea that perhaps I could be like her. She was close to retirement after all and her knowledge was literal gold.

For the next three years I sat under her teaching and gradually began attending births first as her assistant and later she became my assistant. I also furthered my knowledge through various courses on breastfeeding, neonatal resuscitation, and various other educational offerings. As I write this I am deeply aware of how much I have learned, but at the same time how little birth generally needs from someone like me. Birth is after all, a physical event, something your body innately knows how to do, and something that isn’t meant to be forced upon a woman.

What I learned from my first labor and birth was that I was best served not by tools, a hospital, and protocols; but instead my own home, a loving touch, and the presence of people that I loved. My time with the traditional midwife allowed me to hone my skills of providing love and support to those that I serve so that I can provide them with the same type of care that I longed for with my first baby (but didn’t know existed). Only through this type of care can a woman have a birth that supports all aspects of her body instead of trying to force it into action.

The lessons I have learned could more than fill a book.  But I want to list a few of them here as they relate to my hospital experience.  Most of all the fact that while connected to the placenta via the umbilical cord a newborn is receiving oxygenated air (and up to 1/3 of his own blood).  This grace period allows for a slower transition and decreases the need for interventions.  There is an alternative to being whisked off to the warmer, after all.  

So if you are reading this post and wondering what you would like to do for your own pregnancy, labor, and birth I challenge you to think about supporting your own body through this physical event. How can you be supported and loved through it, not forced to perform according to the guidelines of another human being. We are all uniquely made, after all, and I don’t believe that God programmed our bodies to birth in a way that follows a graph or timetable. Psalm 149:14 “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”