I have lots of "Not My Finest Moment" stories. Lots. And for lots of reasons. Primarily because I am human and flawed and I because I also have a tendency to passionately move forward on just about anything that interests me or that I think is a good idea. But mostly because I am human.
Project Failure
I have learned to manage the shame and humiliation that comes with project failure. Coping skills, I got em. I primarily view my project failures as an inability to manifest a vision. Manifesting vision is a hard task so I give myself some slack on those. I also realize that I am not very flexible in my ability to compromise my visions. That is okay by me. Sometimes it makes me sad for the vision (Oh, they are lovely) but there is always the chance that they will find another way to manifest, my visions never die and sometimes my visions seem to inspire the manifestation of someone else's vision and that is super cool all on it's own.
It is not easy to make a good match in the world. Visions need lots of support from those who can maneuver through the 3-D landscape of the world. This may require negotiation and team building. Sometimes it is okay to negotiate and sometimes it is not. It depends on the vision and the goal doesn't it?
Having a goal to make money, for example, leaves a lot of room to design and negotiate all sorts of things. Having a specific vision with the goal of manifesting that vision leaves less room to negotiate. Trading out bits and parts of the vision in order to manifest at least part of the vision, or to save an amount of face is a personal matter for the dreamer to sort out. Sometimes people make the choice to sell out bits of the vision and they thank their lucky stars because they find success. Sometimes people do it and they regret it forever and ever.
Project/vision failures and errors are simply a part of the landscape of getting things done. I have few regrets over those types of the failures. Other times I make human errors. I make mistakes. Worldly, human mistakes. I don't give myself much slack for those. Sometimes I beat myself within an inch of my life when I make mistakes and I really do try to learn from them.
Human Error
It was about 3:30 in the morning when I pulled up to her house. She had called me about 45 minutes before to let me know that her surges were coming regular and strong.
I stepped out of my car and looked up at the sky. I took a big breath and said my little prayer. I noticed the stars and the moon. I took note of the smell in the air and the feeling of the night. I sent an etheric hug to the baby and I let my body fill with love for this family.
I popped the trunk and walked to the back of my car and lifted the trunk door.
My heart sank. It was empty.
Empty. I knew better but I looked in the backseat anyways.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck.
I had been out with my family the night before so had put my birth bags in the familymobile in case I was called to this birth. Apparently, I forgot about that little fact in the wee hours of the night.
I called Mani. She wasn't supposed to be backing me on this birth, but whatever- she owed me a few favors. (thanks Mani: ) The soonest I could expect her to arrive would be about 1 1/2 - 2 hours.
Well, there was nothing to do about it than what had already been done. I gave myself a little pep talk. Reminded myself that the greatest tools of the midwife are in her heart and hands. Reminded myself of one of my favorite sayings from wilderness healing; the cure is within 3ft of you. Reviewed her pregnancy care and her health and reminded myself that the whole point of thorough prenatal care was to assure that there are no impediments to expecting and having a perfectly delicious birth.
I was kind of excited really, the thought of attending this birth with nothing but my heart, hands and soul just seemed perfect to me. The only thing nagging in the back of my head was that this mom did not hire me to be a praying midwife, a midwife without equipment. But the truth is that I am equipped and that there are few if any irreplaceable items in my birth bag.
Fetal Monitoring without my bag:
My ear to the belly
Baby's response to stimulation
Pulse on the soft-spot and sometimes the suture lines
Pink scalp while baby is descending
Hemorrhage management without my bag:
If you know what is causing the hemorrhage- fix it. Go from top to bottom.
Request that mom to stop bleeding.
Make sure that she is warm and comfortable and has the baby at her breast skin-to-skin and without a hat.
Boggy uterus and have the placenta? Feed her some placenta and gently stimulate the nipple that that the baby is not on.
Caused from retained placenta or membranes? Get them out.
Caused from clots? Remove the clots.
Cause from a full bladder? Have mom pee.
Caused from a laceration in the cervix? Bring it forward and pinch.
Caused from a broken vessel in the vagina? Find it, isolate it, apply pressure.
Bimanual compression.
Energetic communication.
Verbally communicate with the mom. Have her express herself. Sometimes bleeding is associated with mom needing to enforce her will.
But most of all, I understand that hemorrhage control is something that is manage way before the actual event. Assuring that mom has a healthy blood system and a healthy pregnancy. Avoiding those things that cause hemorrhage in the first place; Induction, forced or guide pushing, restriction of movement, withholding of food and drink, assisting delivery of the baby unless it is CLEARLY warranted, cutting and clamping the umbilical cord before it's work is done.
I could keep going with my list of how I would replace all of the items in my bag but it would take a very long time and that is not really what the story is about.
I let myself into the home and made my way upstairs.
She was in bed, curled up, listening to a hypnosis c.d.
The vibe was gentle and pleasant.
I sat on the floor next to the bed and took a few moments to synch my breathing with hers.
I observed her breathing efforts, they were normal between the surges and slow and deep during the surges.
I observed her tone, she was nice and relaxed; no tension in her shoulders, legs or arms and just a little line between her brows during the surges.
After a few minutes of this she asked for pressure on her back.
I gently got onto the bed with her and applied pressure over her sacrum. I also took this opportunity to do some more low tech assessments. Her skin was dry and cool. Her veins were not popping or visibly beating. As I held her hand I felt for her pulse. The pressure was getting pretty strong on her back and she was getting a little restless and asked me to help her to roll over. After doing so, I asked her if I could listen to baby's heart and she said yes. I placed my ear on her lower belly and was able to perfectly hear the baby's heart. I was also able to see some baby movements during the surge. Everything seemed perfect.
Rolling over did not provide the relief she was looking for, so she had me continue to apply pressure to her sacrum. After a few surges she asked for something to drink.
I left her bed and went to fetch her a drink and since her surge pattern had changed, I also used this time to grab a few items from the birth kit that had been delivered to her a few weeks back: gauze and baby blankets. I couldn't think of what more I would need. There were a few other items in the her birth kit but I was in minimalist mode and even looking at the box of disposable items such as bulb syringe, cord clamps, gloves, DeLee suction, etc... seemed violating.
As I was returning she said that she thought that her waters had opened. So I made a quick change regarding my thoughts about the items in the box. I turned around and went back to the birth kit box in the bathroom. Instead of selecting the gloves I selected the hand scrub and brush. I inspected my hands and fingers for cuts or abrasions then scrubbed up to my forearms and used the little nail pick to clean my cuticles and nail beds.
I moved back to her bed and the fact that her waters had opened was unquestionable. I took a big whiff and they smelled clean and I visualized they were also clear of anything concerning.
I like to listen to heart tones after the waters have opened, so I asked her if I could check on baby. As I suspected, I couldn't hear that baby with my ear so I asked if I could check via vaginal exam. This is why I didnt put on the gloves. My fingers work better ungloved in some situations. I was hoping to feel for a pulse along the sutures of the baby's skull or on the fontanelle if I could reach it, but no, she wasn't into it. That's cool. She wanted to get up to get up and move around.
I helped her to get up and she walked around for a bit. She wasn't dizzy or light headed, there was no reason to be concerned for her, she said that she felt good. She was in a wonderful space but I could tell that things were moving a little faster than she had expected. She paced her bathroom for a few minutes and then asked if she could try the birth stool. I didn't think it was the time to go into the spiel about how she didnt need my permission for anything, or about how it was her birth or how it was not in my power to grant her permission for anything. Too much information. Instead, I just brought her birth stool over for her. She sat on it and she hated it. That last about, oh... 2 minutes?
She wasn't comfortable. She wanted to sit but she didn't want to sit. She wanted to stand but she didn't want to stand.
She then exclaimed that she had to push. I loved that she didnt ask me if she could. Often times, most times, moms will just move to an instinctual position when they need to push- especially if they are not being bossed around. But sometimes they need some gentle support to maneuver through the situation. I waited to offer options because I wanted to give her body the chance to figure it out but she seemed stuck between a rock and a hard place. Her eyes started to dart around the room, looking mostly at the floor and at the stool, back and forth, all around. I think it was because her instincts told her to squat but she hated the feeling of being on the stool and she didnt want to go anywhere near that position again but she didnt want to stand. I couldn't stand the look of frustration on her face, I wanted to help her so I butted in "how about squatting on the floor against the wall for support?" I thought she might like traditional squatting better than the stool since there would be less pressure and it would crate a different positioning of the pelvis. She liked the sound of that and she lowered herself to the floor.
Fantastic. She followed her body and was bringing the baby down nice and steady. I asked her if I could feel the baby and she said yes. There it was, a lovely pulse and a lovely little bit of pink scalp. Lovely.
At this point I was thinking to myself "How fantastic it would be if the baby was born before Mani got here". But mom needed more time for pushing so I sat with her. Quiet. Doing my Shell thing. Soft accompanying sounds when the energy was high, observing her body language, responding silently to her needs, watching to see if she needed anything from me. She didnt, just a sip of her water now and then.
Mani showed up about 20 minutes later and we were still in about the same position and situation as we were when we had first slid to the floor. I am sure that there was progress going on- just not a lot. Not that there is anything wrong with that, there isn't, it just didn't match up to my expectations based on her labor to this point but certainly wasnt anything to get knotted up over. So I sat and we waited. It was a sweet space.
I resisted using the doppler but did have Mani get a set of vitals for us. After a few surges mom asked if she could get into the tub. I didn't say "yes" or "no", I just filled up the tub for her. And then yes, we listened for heart tones.
It was a garden style tub with the spout to the side. It was a little large for this petit mom to comfortably lie in so I suggested that she sit with her back to the side of the tub with her feet pressed agains the other side, short ways instead of long ways. We were sitting outside of the tub and in front of her.
The sun was starting to stream in through the windows. Her energy seemed revived and renewed. Her husband was at my right and Mani was at my left.
We sat there worshiping her.
She was beautiful with her brown hair glistening with sun drops.
Her perfect complexion was flushing with pink on her cheeks and red on her lips and rose on her breasts.
Her nipples were darkening before my eyes. The shadow of the mother, visiting the flesh.
Her muscles were starting to define themselves and rise up from her bones.
Her eyes showed clarity and resolve.
She had no questions.
She had no fear.
She was only full of
baby and
power and
grace and
force and
love and
truth and
The millions of elements necessary to manifest
vision and
matter and
soul and
body
into being.
She was whole
So we waited. Without interrupting. In awe.
The baby crowned the moment, extended and spiraled out between the mothers legs and swooshed into her fathers hands, she came up all pink and mewing.
The power-shadow retreated and the mom returned, eyes wide with wonder and a huge smile of surprise.
Sometimes when I do the least, I feel the most like a midwife.
What I learned:
To keep my low-tech skills honed and up-to-date
To put something on the seat of my car to remind myself that I have moved my birth bags from their normal spot in the trunk of my car.