We had our last ‘official’ meeting with Cathy the midwife the other day, and she brought by the sweetest little book for Alice.
It’s this book from WA paper-cut artist Nikki McClure, and in a quick google search of her art, I found this baby book, which I am buying for Alice (and considering buying for Ella, and just going back and filling things in).
Cathy did Alice’s footprints at our first postpartum visit, and then wrote a sweet little birth story and blessing on the inside cover. It reminded me that I have still not posted Alice’s birth story here, and to tell you the truth it feels silly posting it now. She will be three months old on the 8th (how did that happen?) – is anyone still interested in reading about this? If anyone wants to pick my brain about it, I love talking about it, but it just feels weird to post the story on some arbitrary day, like “Hey, how’s it going, here’s a story about
my vagina! one of the most important events in my life!”
Perhaps I will wait until her first birthday to post it.
During our visit with Cathy, I realized again how glad I am that we hired her, and that I took the time to get to know her. I’ve certainly never walked away from another medical relationship feeling like I’ve gained a friend and mentor, and I feel blessed that I stumbled on someone who is willing to be both. She inspires me to listen to that little voice in my gut that believes that women deserve the option to trust themselves. No, not everyone wants the kind of birth we had, and no, not everyone would be safe birthing at home. But why is it not an option- a real, attainable, accepted option – for those of us who do? Over the last year, I have been given the kind of care that women deserve, and seeing this kind of midwifery in practice makes me giddy about the prospect of offering this kind of care to other mothers.
So, I am doing research. I am comparing midwifery schools, trying to decide if being a CNM (and the years of nursing school) would be worth it, trying to envision how I could start this process in the next five years, with the end goal being finished in ten. So much (everything!) can change in the next few years, but right now this feels like the path I need to be on. Tom is behind me onebazillion percent, and kind of laughs every few months when I bring this up as if it is a new idea (“You know what I think I should do, once the girls are not so tiny?” “Look at ladies hoohas?” “Yup. “) but agreeing that it would be great, and actually finding a way to make it happen are two very different things. I can’t get serious about attending births until the girls are older, and financially, Tom should be the one to go back to school first to be able to use his degrees as more than wall hangings. But eventually, the girls are going to be able to wipe their own bums, Tom is going to be working in a career he loves, and I am going to be looking in the mirror asking “What’s next?”
Right now it’s either this, or writing that bestselling book of poetry.(Quick, how many of these do you own?)
Which is to say: it’s this.