Harper's Arrival

Today I drove a couple to the hospital.
I ran out of their building, jumped into my car, did a U-turn,
saw her kneeling on the stairs as if in deep prayer
her husband's body draped over her in protection.

Watch the bumps
30 minutes of head in the pillow
head on his lap
loving words
low moaning
legs braced for the curves in the road.

Water - I need water.
You're doing it.
You're amazing.

He calls out our progress
We're at Boundary
We've passed Knight Street
We're almost at Cambie
We're on Oak.

Press the button to obtain a ticket.

We park
One contraction
Two contractions
Back out of the car

Fully dilated

"window children/with protective parents/sit and watch/other kids go out and play"

When I had my daughter, obstetric ultrasound was relatively new. My British obstetrician proudly told the story about the Glasgow obstetrician who saw the potential in ultrasonic testing for cracks in submarine hulls. I had one scan late in my pregnancy because the obstetrician suspected that my baby was quite small. The images were unsettling – at 28 weeks, her body was too big to completely fit on the screen, so it appeared as if her legs, arms, and torso were unconnected. I left the room, shaken. After waiting for the results for a day, I heard that the verdict was in – she was growing normally. (Her birth weight was a decent 8lb 8oz.) Even with the good news, it was hard to reconcile those images with the feeling of her inside me.

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Land Speed Records (baby style)

The three little girls born this week almost set land speed records. The total official labour time for all three was 5.5 hours. Wow! (One was a first birth!) Now, I'm counting the official labour time as starting once TWO progressive regular contractions are coming every 10 minutes. (That's 2/10 for short.) Now, the total time of the three labours from the "first sign" adds up to 14 hours.

So, we had "fair warning" for each. I made it to each birth...and we all made it to the hospital in time (my apologies to the drivers that we flashed on the highway!) We didn't spend much time at the hospital before each baby was born (45min, 2 hrs, 30 min.) And...the quotes from the mums and dads and babies were great... "It's amazing the second time around - that was a little easier!" "I can't believe it's over already!" "The whole thing was incredible - crazy!" "That wasn't as bad as I expected!" "Whaaa!"

Now, I wonder if these girls flew into the world because they knew they were joining their sisters? Between these three families, there are now 6 girls!

Welcome to Hannah, Sadie, and Ava!

"The only real valuable thing is intuition" - Albert Einstein

Oh...the remaining three babies...I never talked about them... Sorry! Here it is...

It's interesting how women often have a sense of how their labour will go, even weeks before the due date. Some women have dreams of a spider web (baby wrapped in cord) or a rock climber (cord again) or a square peg in a round hole (positioning problem.) Are these premonitions or self-fulfilling prophecies? I don't know. I like to think that the body is giving the woman a clue about what is currently happening, and that these dreams are reality-based, not fear-based.

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It’s raining baby girls...and a boy!

Six little girls and one little boy in ten days...

It all started with a funny phone call which woke me up... “Hey, Jacquie, it’s Mel! I’m at the hospital!”

“Mel?” (I have a Mel who's due in a month...) Wake up, Jacquie...This is another Mel...She’s friends with another client, and must have driven her to hospital. “Right! How is she? What’s happening?”

So began the 10 days of fun (no overlaps.)

Girl’s night at St. Paul’s. Eight women waiting for a baby girl. Magic, laughter, acceptance, hugs, and love...and a “face-off with a skunk” thrown in for a bit of drama. My daughter was there, too, to witness this birth, to add a greater measure of awe to the night. Hip shakes...”I want to rock!” “I want to push!” ...then, “Hi, Sugar!” “You smell like graham crackers.” “You’re beautiful!” This was a birth of simplicity and joy. It was such a gift to be a witness on this night...

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"We go intertwined..."

Hello Jacquie,

I have been thinking about you today so I thought I would email. Today I was especially amazed by the miracle of Ethan and the amazing little person taking shape before my eyes. I was just on your website reading your wonderful writing and I realized what gratitude I feel for having had your warm presence at my labour. I will never forget the feeling of your sure hand on my foot. Just recently I find my mind wandering back to Ethan’s birth and wanting to dwell.

Well, Jacquie, I hope you are well and it amazes me that every day of your life is spent supporting, and surrounded by, the beauty of birth. You are truly blessed.

- Jolene

Expectation (ek'spek-ta'shn)

n.
1. a. The act of expecting. b. Eager anticipation: eyes shining with expectation.
4. Statistics b. The mean of a random variable.

Hmmm... I love the various meanings. It suits labour and birth, doesn't it? People even say, “She’s expecting...” when a woman is pregnant.

So, is expectation a positive or a negative thought process? Does it help us to realistically anticipate the event? Or can it set us up for the possibility of failure and guilt?

One thing that I discuss with clients are their anticipated “roles and expectations” - of themselves, of each other, and of their caregivers. Clients share their dreams for birth, however varied. Then we compare their expectations to the many potential realities.

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Walk into the cold with your scarf on

Each birth has a central memory upon which all the others cling. Last night's birth has a central memory for me which sums up the power of this amazing woman having her first baby - cold night, crunchy snow, coat on, red scarf over her head, 7cm, keys in hand, "I'm going to the car"...

Wow!

Just goes to show that you never can tell how it will all go - nine and a half pounds can be hard, but on some nights, it can just be like butter and slide easily and gently into the night.

The human body is a miraculous thing.

Room 8

Was it just this week that I attended two labours in Room 8 at BC Women’s? Was it just this week that my daughter came with me for the first time to attend a birth?

Midnight on New Year’s Eve came while we were in the assessment room, during a contraction. Nurses blew horns while my client laboured. The nurses station was laid out with food. It was surreal.

Throughout the labour, my daughter held the space like women did a long time ago - knitting, crossed-legged, low to the ground - bearing witness to this sacred event.

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White Lightning at Christmas

Dear Celia –

“I am a wonderful mother!” you cried while you were in labour. I wondered why this thought surfaced in the middle of a contraction. I didn’t disagree with your statement, but these contractions were like white lightning, your labour’s power vast. This triumphant cry hung in the air...

Ah…it became clear once the rest of the statement was spoken. “ - or else I would have just booked the cesarean weeks ago!”

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Birth of the World

After a bout of pneumonia (of course it wasn't due to overwork...but maybe all that drywall dust had something to do with it) for most of November and early December, all's well. Five new beautiful babies are in the world, bringing joy to their families.

The first flew in 5 weeks early...so sad that I missed it while I was so sick...

The second found me doing my doula work over the phone, drugged and coughing. "She's acting like a caged animal," says dad. "She sounds wonderful," I said, "But it sounds like it's time to go to the hospital." She had spent most of the labour at home, with me talking her through the contractions, encouraging showers, recommending positions, giving pep talks to her husband, arranging their hospital arrival, and helping them to get "the good room." Phone doula work isn't ideal, but it seemed to be better than nothing that day.

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George, Entropy (and the Second Law of Thermodynamics)

I always say that we can only hope for the best on the day of labour - that the baby is the wonderful and unpredictable 'wildcard.' So, we must trust our body and our baby to give us strong clues about what needs to happen, then make the best choices on that particular day, with the support of those around us...

Here’s George, introduced by his mother:

“George was born Feb 16th - I had the induced labour that didn’t progress well and a cesarean - and he turned out to be 11 pounds! Remember us? These women who labour in the park, cooking turkey dinners...well, humbug. Not at all how mine went, although it was totally great in its own way.”

Here’s my memory:

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“I know the heart of life is good…”

"Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
but I know the heart of life is good..."

I don't think John Mayer was thinking about birth when he wrote this song. But I played it over and over again on my drive home from a beautiful birth last night.

Why was this the song I needed to hear after such a joyous and swift birth? I just knew that this was going to be a powerful week. There was going to be sadness to balance the joy. I could feel the phone call coming...

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Oh, Maggie!

The wind blew the clouds and rain away, giving her the sun’s heat upon her back, and showing her the first snowfall on the mountains.

We stood, with the tourists, at the Queen Elizabeth Park viewpoint. She stood, leaning over the bench, pointing out the dried candle wax, the other pregnant woman, the babies, not really looking like a woman in labour.

But she was…

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And then there were Ten

There have been 10 babies born since we returned from our summer holidays, only one of them a girl! Welcome, and congratulations to all!

Snapshots:

Kate’s birth - Nurse: “This little one is going to give us all grey hairs!” (Said on the twentieth fetal heartrate dip before gorgeous, bright-eyed Kate arrived)

Connor’s birth - Mum: “Sorry to get you guys out of bed.” (Said to Grandma and Sister, Dad and Doula, Doctor and Nurse near the end of her 3 1/2 hour labour)

Emmet’s birth - Mum: “That wasn’t bad.” (Boy, did she motor! Moved from standing, to sitting, to squatting, to shower. So, so fast!)

Lochlan’s birth - Doctor, smiling: “What is she on?” (Mum chatters away happily in shower, then stands for birth)

Liam’s birth - Nurse: “She couldn’t possibly be pushing. I just checked her and she was a fingertip dilated.” (Baby born 45 minutes later)

Cameron’s birth - Mum: “It’s just like a marathon - some good bits, some bad bits.” (Said half-way through the 7 hour labour)

Oliver’s birth - Friend, calling from downstairs: “Dinner’s ready!” (She hadn’t noticed that the baby was just about born...by the stairs)

Klein’s birth - Head Nurse: “Has your nurse done her rural Africa trick with the sheet?” (Baby eventually waved all red flags and asked for immediate exit - leading to a joyful, laughter-filled OR)

Adam’s birth - Mum: “I think today might be the day.” (Baby born 43 minutes later, unexpectedly at home)

Oscar’s birth - Mum: “I enjoyed the day. It was a good day.” (Said while nursing baby for the first time, triumphant)

We wrestle angels

On my way to see a client the other day, I drove past the beach, and watched the sailboarders fly through the October waves. Last night, the image returned as I listened to Michael Symmons Roberts on the radio, reading from his own poem about observing sailboarders:

"These men wrestle angels. Each now sits on / an enormous wing waiting for the winds to rise"

For me, it always comes back to labour. For, in labour, we wrestle angels. We struggle to blend reality with expectation. We skim the ecstatic knife edge between pleasure and pain. We emerge, changed utterly.

Thanks to Deb, Elaine, Sheena and Betty - the four midwives who helped me wrestle the angels

Searching the past for ritual

Over the years, I have been a witness to many birth rituals. Often, these are rituals drawn from different cultures. Those that spring to mind...

A Tibetan woman had a long labour, followed by a cesarean birth. Outside the operating room waited two beaming monks, their robes a bright contrast to the hospital walls. After the baby was born, the father asked that the first piece of cloth to touch the baby was a silk fuschia prayer shawl that had been blessed by the Dalai Lama. There, in the operating room, was one spark of colour. The birth shifted from medical to spiritual.

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Groaning Cake


In a book club meeting, we discussed The Birth House, by Ami McKay. We ate groaning cake, talked about birth, the medicalization of women's bodies at this most natural time, history, social change, and our own lives. We were strengthened by the stories of these women at the turn of the century in Canada, their sisterhood, and the quiet yet bold way in which they kept their commmunity together. I hope you read this book.

The tradition of the groaning cake at a birth is an ancient one. Wives' tales say that the scent of a groaning cake being baked in the birth house helps to ease the mother's pain. Some say if a mother breaks the eggs while she's aching, her labour won't last as long. Others say that if a family wants prosperity and fertility, the father must pass pieces of the cake to friends and family the first time the mother and baby goes to a public gathering.

2 1/2 cups flour
3 eggs
2 t. baking powder
1/2 cup oil
1 t. baking soda
1/2 cup orange juice
2 t. cinnamon
1/4 cup molasses
1/2 t. ground cloves
1 1/3 cups sugar
1 1/2 cups grated apple
1 t. almond extract

Sift dry ingredients together. Add apple. Beat eggs. Add oil, orange juice, molasses and sugar. Add to dry ingredients. Mix well. Add almond extract. Bake at 350F. for 35-40 minutes. Makes two 9x5 loaves or 18 muffins.

Boundary Bay Baby!

Perhaps the fastest baby of the year...a little boy has made his way into the world in 43 minutes!
No time for a car ride to the hospital.
No time for the doula to get there.
Just a mother and a father fully present to receive this shining spirit.

(Well, I flew up the stairs one minute after the baby arrived, just a step behind the paramedic)

I think everyone smiled so much yesterday that we all had sore faces!

Congratulations to Sarah and Mark!
Thanks to all the paramedics and the Infant Transport Team, especially for listening to my client and giving her privacy.

That was a day filled with joy!

(2009 Update: This mum has since had another baby...this time planned at home with a midwife. An altogether more relaxed outcome.)