In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Snapshot Stories.”
I sometimes turn around and do just that.
When my daughter was born I had a massive hemorrhage. The midwife went over everything that happened and my case with a couple of her doula colleagues and the suggestion that she brought to me a few days later was that I should very, very strongly consider not having any more children and certainly not attempting to have another homebirth. This was a midwife that I loved very much and she’d treated me with such dignity as she cared for me after my daughter’s birth, but it was hard for me to hear that she somehow felt that my body was defective or a medical mystery. I did, however, take her advice to heart, at least until I found out I was pregnant four years later. At that point there was no one that was going to tell me that I couldn’t birth my baby however I wanted. I fought, and I fought hard, to find a midwife that would actually attend my birth. I travelled hours and hours away from how and when the midwife I’d chosen backed down, I joined up with another midwife who helped me get whatever I wanted. She told me ever little loophole that we could sneak through to get my homebirth and that’s exactly what we did.
In this picture my midwife is removing the saline lock that I’d allowed her to place before the birth (it was the one medical thing that I was okay with). After the birth I did start to bleed and the midwife ran over to hook up the IV, but it just would not run. My midwife looked at me and said, “I held up my end of the bargain and now you need to hold up yours. You are not going to bleed.” We looked at each other and we knew at that point that I wasn’t going to bleed. The bleeding slowed immediately with no intervention and within 30 minutes I was up nursing my third, and final baby. No need for medications, interventions, or panicked. The birth itself was incredibly intense, but for the first time I got my gentle third stage and my body did exactly what it was made to do.