My Little Golden Book of Phobias

 Since yesterday I have been in the birth center with a mom and her husband. She finally got into active labor with the help of a castor oil cocktail and breaking her water bag. She is not happy now, after laughing for many hours and having mild contractions. My partner and I worry that after all this time, she won't be able to give the big effort as labor gets more intense and finally she pushes the baby out. She had a tub, nitrous, support from her husband and doula and us. Jen and I are pretty tired. Poor Felix has been in the house all day, with a few pee breaks. I can only imagine his anxiety. My neighbors have been lovely to let him out at walk him but he misses me. Nothing to be done. 

Tomorrow is a clinic day and I'm hoping to get home for some hours of sleep. Sheesh. This is exactly why I'm done with this crazy life. I'm tired, we're going on 24 hours and she's pretty far from delivery, the specter of a transfer always there. 

So what am I grateful for? Lets see. The sun was out all day. The baby inside this mother has great heart tones. This baby has some nice and sweet parents. My fellow midwife is someone I haven't known very well and now I do. We've told birth stories (she's the mother of 9 kids) and laughed and supported one another through the care and choices we are offering this family. 

I don't want to push too hard because I'm tired. It's such a fine line between offering sage advice and recommending something that may not land or work. Midwifery is a creative process and I've learned how to be a human being because of it. Patience. Intuition. Forbearance. Wisdom. Humor. Deep listening. All of it. My first training in letting go. In trusting the process. And knowing what to do when situations are scary. 

So I'm grateful for the opportunity to, as they say in my chaplaincy training, come alongside an intense experience of another traveller. To give birth. To pass through the doorway. To be born.