First

The first baby I ever saw come out "the right way"--and hey, if you think there is a right way, well I do, too--was born in a big blue tub of water.

That baby actually inspired me to really pursue this whole fascination I have with childbirth. I remember getting the phone call from my friend C.--I was a spanky new "doula." Uncertified, willing to support whomever, however, armed only with a bunch of books and my experience with having my babies "the wrong way"--and hey, if ya think there is a wrong way, well I kinda do too. Wrong in that my kids should have come out of me the right way, but got stuck. But still kinda right in that I lived and they did too. Just because something doesn't work the way it's supposed to doesn't mean it's a failure. I mean, wrong and failure are not synonymous in my book.

So, got called at three in the morning. Mama was a G1 (first baby) so I thought I had time to get over there and help some. Showed up at her house and she was REALLY huffing and puffing. From my reading I deduced that we probably needed to go to the hospital sooner rather than later--I decided this after the mom said, "We need to go to the hospital NOW." Yeah.

I drove while mom and dad sprawled out in the back-seat and worked through the contractions which were hitting back to back. At the hospital we met with the midwife (MY midwife--I had claimed her first and she stuck out a c-section, a VBAC that didn't work, and another c-section with me). She had me fill the indoor mushy-blue-birth-tub with a hose as my friend was checked: 7 cm.

Mom got in the tub and it turned her to a soft, floating being who sighed instead of groaned with each wave from her uterus. The room was quite, we were all so calm. Our midwife did things unobtrusively--an underwater doppler to hear baby every little bit, gentle assessments with her hands when needed. Baby was born shortly after, into the water, the midwives hands reaching down to pull him up onto his mother belly, the father crouched behind the mother, reaching into the depths to lend his touch.

I still picture the colors in that birth: gray and aqua and new baby-pink. Not the usual bright reds and splayed legs with everything private exposed. This was the childbirth I wanted a piece of--this was the world I fell in love with. Not even sure I saw a nurse, a stethoscope, a warmer, a monitor, a chart, or an EFM strip. Probably oblivious with a dose of naivete--that was me--the new doula who didn't do much but watch in awe. I found myself believing in natural childbirth and knowing in the realest sense that it is done and done perfectly all the time without intervention. It was right and good and normal.

Thank you C. and C. and E. for that introduction. Maybe I will see something like that again, and soon.

Pic from here.