I had the honor tonight of attending a "regional midwife peer review."Say what?! I guess several local midwives get together every other month. It's a closed meeting so they can discuss clients (not patients-but clients) without breaking confidentiality. They learn from eachother, tips and tricks. They learn about difficult pregnancies or births. They support and encourage, they examine and critique. There were 10 midwives there. One came all the way from Reno.
I'll admit I was a bit nervous. I guess in my head there was still an old image of "midwife." I had just gotten lucky, and the only modern ones lived in my neighborhood. At least I thought so. One by one these beautiful smiling faces came into the room. These women of strength dressed in soft linen skirts and cool breezy summer clothes. None of them had voodoo dolls. None of them had long hair held in place with bandannas. No one flashed the peace sign. A few were wearing Birkenstocks though. They passed around recipes of home made granola and fresh fruit ice cream. They smiled and hugged. Ollie slept peacefully on my chest. They talked of birth and babies. I was reminded of the strength of the Willow trees. Here I was, little me, clutching my baby to my chest, sitting in this room of...majesty. It really was a feeling to experience.
Finally things came to a start and the room fell silent. I had a moment of nervousness. I respect these women so much, it was more nerve racking to start out than if I were sitting in front of a board of neonatal neurosurgeons. (say that ten times fast) Nervous. Really. I think perhaps it's the human touch. Mainstream medical professionals make it a point to distance themselves. They do not get emotionally involved, they are trained not to. They do not cry with patients, they do rarely rejoice. Skeptical, steady, always professional. They do not share granola. (it was really good granola too by the way)
They wanted to know our story. My story. They wanted to know from my point of view what had happened. I told them to the best of my nervous ability what we had walked through. I wasn't sure what scope to focus on. The medical stuff, the emotional stuff. I felt like I sputtered all over the board. They all watched and listened. Silent and strong. I wondered what they were thinking, if they were making mental notes. What they would do in our situation. I know they were likely thinking "thank God it wasn't me," and sure some thought wow-as they knew the outcome was good-Ollie was in my arms after all. They asked me a couple questions and we watched a DVD put together by one of my midwives. (well really an "assistant" for the record...but she's one of the mw to me) It showed pictures from my labor all the way through til Ollie was 5 weeks old. We pointed out details of this and that-cord, and color-all the things the faithful blog followers have seen already...I'll spare the repeat story. We oogled and awed over the little miracle he is. A few more questions were asked and then I left.
They thanked me. I wish I would have said thank you back. They are such neat people to hang out with. Guardians. Like a strong Willow Tree left standing after a fierce storm, these women weather the storm of prejudices, pride and ignorance and guard the beauty of free birth. The right-of free birth. And yet, they blend in with the rest of the world just like you and I. These guardians. The weather so much and yet not only stay strong, but gentle, kind, and loving. It is as if you could not hurt them.
Once again I was ...I'm not sure there is a word. I don't become baffled anymore at these women, although it all still takes my breath away. I have come to expect the amazing things they do and represent. I wish I could describe to you the emotion in that room. It was serene. It was an environment of learning. It was so ...pure. I left there noticing the flowers and the little buzzing bees. I was recharged like after a really good church service, or a beautiful wedding. A room full of that kind of energy, of those kinds of women can do that to a person. It made me have faith that there are still places were serenity rules king over the chaos of life in this world. Children still run around barefoot eating ice cream in the front yard. Neighbors still talk to one another and bring eachother cookies. Drivers still yield out of courtesy. And random lawn mowing still occurs. There are places that are still safe. Safe. That is how it felt. Like there was hope for the world. That someone out there had not given up on that dream. No one there questioned our decisions. No one doubted our actions. We, I was embraced as a competent, caring, parent that went above and beyond for my baby. My faith, my belief in what I am doing and where I am going in all of this was restored and encouraged.
What an interesting way to end that chapter of my relationship with the midwives. We did my six week follow up right before the meeting. They've seen me every week really, but it was the "official" appointment. Ollie was up to 9lbs 14oz butt nekkie. My little mama milk addict is gaining weight perfectly. He wiggles all over on back and on tummy. He looks the midwife right in the eyes and coos at her-telling her his version of all this story telling 'bout life. He captivates people with his deep blue eyes. He says so much from such a little being. It feels good to watch him grow and thrive. He is such an amazing miracle. I still feel blessed beyond belief. I still feel supported. I still feel just baffled. Mostly I feel validated and honored.
And once again, but this time much less dramatically I walked through the land of the Willows and came out a little bit different. I feel something deep inside calling me. I do not know where it will go. I do know that somewhere in all of this I do fit in. I continue to seek where and how. This place is not somewhere you walk through and view and never look back. It calls to you. It beckons you back. I look forward to being in this place again. In the presence of the guardians who do not walk alone.
For tonight I scoop up my nearly 10 pounds of warm cuddles and we tip toe off to our bed. Good night my friends. Have happy dreams of barefoot kids...sprinklers and bicycles...
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