Another experience of labor and delivery
A couple of years ago, a wonderful woman physician in my town passed away. I had always felt drawn to her daughter, who is a very sweet and wonderful, intelligent scientist, who studies and helps with data to protect our redwood trees, as well as other projects having to do with ecosystems and forests. I myself have no daughters, and so when about a week ago, this dear woman called to ask if I would be willing to help her go through labor, I was thrilled.
I did not know how it would feel, to go back into the labor room, without being the doctor in the room. But being a stand-in for her mom was a role I felt I could take on with joy and good will.
We kept in touch by phone as she went through the phase of cervical ripening, and luckily, I was able to be with her as the real work of labor began, and the contractions began to be more intense. Watching her do the strong and fine work of being a laboring woman was a real joy for me, partly because I was not in charge. My duty was simply to help her through it, and to be a place-keeper for her mom. She had had two babies, and she knew how to do labor.
We had an amazing time of it. Her husband was a great support and coach, and she stood up for most of the active phase of labor. He did some great sacro-iliac massage. I have found that this standing and rocking often helps get the baby to come down more effectively than when one is lying down, with some assistance from gravity. It usually makes the contractions stronger; which is hard to bear, but she was brave in wanting to make her labor as efficient and successful as possible. And there is just this marvelous amazing strength of a woman's body with good muscle tone, in good health, doing the work of labor.
When we were getting closer to transition labor, I asked her to get onto her left side, in a tucked crunch position, which I have found helps to get the baby to "turn the corner" in the deep pelvis, although it causes some intense pain inside the left hip. We only needed 3 contractions, and then she was able to get up and stand again, swaying and rocking, and she could feel how much descent there had been in that interval. It was a little wierd for me, to not be checking, but surmising from what I knew of labor, and then needing the nurse to once-in-awhile verify the descent of the baby's head. And her doctor is a good doctor, who was willing to be available as the labor came into the home stretch, waiting for that "urge to push". The actual pushing time was probably less than 15 minutes, due to her being able to stand until the very end, and she was great at that muscular effort of pushing. There is nothing in the world more beautiful than a woman doing the work of labor, with such concentrated muscular effort, and the rhythmic flow of it. She and her husband had picked some wonderful music, much of it from my era, and it blended with the work. Her mom played the ukelele, and some of these songs were songs she used to play.
The baby came into the world in a swirl of pink skin, and a good clear cry, The fetal heartbeat had been good throughout labor, and there was a great thick umbilical cord and clear fluid, and a healthy lush placenta. Her uterus contracted superbly. There were no lacerations or tears. It was just symphonically beautiful! Her first baby had come in a long hard labor, and the second baby had needed time in the NICU for possible infection. But this baby was just a perfectly lovely labor and delivery!
For me, this was a revisiting of something I have known and loved, for a long long time. I think I have delivered at least 10,000 babies in my lifetime; and still, each one is a beautiful work of art. I love the way labor is a symphony, each one slightly different, each family a little bit of heaven, as God sends a new baby into the world. I did not feel sad or depressed to not be the doctor. It was so wonderful feeling like a grandmother there! And I did feel like I had her mom with me, being glad I was standing in, for this dear young woman.
Sometimes we have to believe that if we ourselves cannot be there for our children, someone else will carry the load for us. The human family is an amazing and resilient and blessed gift. I am really really glad I got to have this exquisite labor and delivery event, to remind me of all the joy I have had in my work.
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
Another Experience of Labor and Delivery
Another experience of labor and delivery
A couple of years ago, a wonderful woman physician in my town passed away. I had always felt drawn to her daughter, who is a very sweet and wonderful, intelligent scientist, who studies and helps with data to protect our redwood trees, as well as other projects having to do with ecosystems and forests. I myself have no daughters, and so when about a week ago, this dear woman called to ask if I would be willing to help her go through labor, I was thrilled.
I did not know how it would feel, to go back into the labor room, without being the doctor in the room. But being a stand-in for her mom was a role I felt I could take on with joy and good will.
We kept in touch by phone as she went through the phase of cervical ripening, and luckily, I was able to be with her as the real work of labor began, and the contractions began to be more intense. Watching her do the strong and fine work of being a laboring woman was a real joy for me, partly because I was not in charge. My duty was simply to help her through it, and to be a place-keeper for her mom. She had had two babies, and she knew how to do labor.
We had an amazing time of it. Her husband was a great support and coach, and she stood up for most of the active phase of labor. He did some great sacro-iliac massage. I have found that this standing and rocking often helps get the baby to come down more effectively than when one is lying down, with some assistance from gravity. It usually makes the contractions stronger; which is hard to bear, but she was brave in wanting to make her labor as efficient and successful as possible. And there is just this marvelous amazing strength of a woman's body with good muscle tone, in good health, doing the work of labor.
When we were getting closer to transition labor, I asked her to get onto her left side, in a tucked crunch position, which I have found helps to get the baby to "turn the corner" in the deep pelvis, although it causes some intense pain inside the left hip. We only needed 3 contractions, and then she was able to get up and stand again, swaying and rocking, and she could feel how much descent there had been in that interval. It was a little wierd for me, to not be checking, but surmising from what I knew of labor, and then needing the nurse to once-in-awhile verify the descent of the baby's head. And her doctor is a good doctor, who was willing to be available as the labor came into the home stretch, waiting for that "urge to push". The actual pushing time was probably less than 15 minutes, due to her being able to stand until the very end, and she was great at that muscular effort of pushing. There is nothing in the world more beautiful than a woman doing the work of labor, with such concentrated muscular effort, and the rhythmic flow of it. She and her husband had picked some wonderful music, much of it from my era, and it blended with the work. Her mom played the ukelele, and some of these songs were songs she used to play.
The baby came into the world in a swirl of pink skin, and a good clear cry, The fetal heartbeat had been good throughout labor, and there was a great thick umbilical cord and clear fluid, and a healthy lush placenta. Her uterus contracted superbly. There were no lacerations or tears. It was just symphonically beautiful! Her first baby had come in a long hard labor, and the second baby had needed time in the NICU for possible infection. But this baby was just a perfectly lovely labor and delivery!
For me, this was a revisiting of something I have known and loved, for a long long time. I think I have delivered at least 10,000 babies in my lifetime; and still, each one is a beautiful work of art. I love the way labor is a symphony, each one slightly different, each family a little bit of heaven, as God sends a new baby into the world. I did not feel sad or depressed to not be the doctor. It was so wonderful feeling like a grandmother there! And I did feel like I had her mom with me, being glad I was standing in, for this dear young woman.
Sometimes we have to believe that if we ourselves cannot be there for our children, someone else will carry the load for us. The human family is an amazing and resilient and blessed gift. I am really really glad I got to have this exquisite labor and delivery event, to remind me of all the joy I have had in my work.
A couple of years ago, a wonderful woman physician in my town passed away. I had always felt drawn to her daughter, who is a very sweet and wonderful, intelligent scientist, who studies and helps with data to protect our redwood trees, as well as other projects having to do with ecosystems and forests. I myself have no daughters, and so when about a week ago, this dear woman called to ask if I would be willing to help her go through labor, I was thrilled.
I did not know how it would feel, to go back into the labor room, without being the doctor in the room. But being a stand-in for her mom was a role I felt I could take on with joy and good will.
We kept in touch by phone as she went through the phase of cervical ripening, and luckily, I was able to be with her as the real work of labor began, and the contractions began to be more intense. Watching her do the strong and fine work of being a laboring woman was a real joy for me, partly because I was not in charge. My duty was simply to help her through it, and to be a place-keeper for her mom. She had had two babies, and she knew how to do labor.
We had an amazing time of it. Her husband was a great support and coach, and she stood up for most of the active phase of labor. He did some great sacro-iliac massage. I have found that this standing and rocking often helps get the baby to come down more effectively than when one is lying down, with some assistance from gravity. It usually makes the contractions stronger; which is hard to bear, but she was brave in wanting to make her labor as efficient and successful as possible. And there is just this marvelous amazing strength of a woman's body with good muscle tone, in good health, doing the work of labor.
When we were getting closer to transition labor, I asked her to get onto her left side, in a tucked crunch position, which I have found helps to get the baby to "turn the corner" in the deep pelvis, although it causes some intense pain inside the left hip. We only needed 3 contractions, and then she was able to get up and stand again, swaying and rocking, and she could feel how much descent there had been in that interval. It was a little wierd for me, to not be checking, but surmising from what I knew of labor, and then needing the nurse to once-in-awhile verify the descent of the baby's head. And her doctor is a good doctor, who was willing to be available as the labor came into the home stretch, waiting for that "urge to push". The actual pushing time was probably less than 15 minutes, due to her being able to stand until the very end, and she was great at that muscular effort of pushing. There is nothing in the world more beautiful than a woman doing the work of labor, with such concentrated muscular effort, and the rhythmic flow of it. She and her husband had picked some wonderful music, much of it from my era, and it blended with the work. Her mom played the ukelele, and some of these songs were songs she used to play.
The baby came into the world in a swirl of pink skin, and a good clear cry, The fetal heartbeat had been good throughout labor, and there was a great thick umbilical cord and clear fluid, and a healthy lush placenta. Her uterus contracted superbly. There were no lacerations or tears. It was just symphonically beautiful! Her first baby had come in a long hard labor, and the second baby had needed time in the NICU for possible infection. But this baby was just a perfectly lovely labor and delivery!
For me, this was a revisiting of something I have known and loved, for a long long time. I think I have delivered at least 10,000 babies in my lifetime; and still, each one is a beautiful work of art. I love the way labor is a symphony, each one slightly different, each family a little bit of heaven, as God sends a new baby into the world. I did not feel sad or depressed to not be the doctor. It was so wonderful feeling like a grandmother there! And I did feel like I had her mom with me, being glad I was standing in, for this dear young woman.
Sometimes we have to believe that if we ourselves cannot be there for our children, someone else will carry the load for us. The human family is an amazing and resilient and blessed gift. I am really really glad I got to have this exquisite labor and delivery event, to remind me of all the joy I have had in my work.
"When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed"
“WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM’D”
an elegy for Abraham Lincoln
(title, metaphors and images recycled from poem by Walt Whitman, with the same name, and supplemented with words from President Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address.
Song fragments from "Green Grow the Lilacs" and from "The Battle Hymn of the Republic")
Song fragments from "Green Grow the Lilacs" and from "The Battle Hymn of the Republic")
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed
And the mournful sound of the train
Passed slowly over the corn-mantle on hills and valleys,
The towns were draped in black.
We heard the song of the grey-brown bird,
Calling to us; asking us to tend the healing of our land;
“that a government of the people, by the people and for the people should not perish
From the earth”.
The compassionate eyes in the craggy face
Look outward,
And he holds the law with both of his large hands.
We stand on the marble steps, looking upward, open-mouthed,
And hear the spare song he is singing.
“With malice toward none, with charity for all…”
The heart-shaped green leaves of the lilacs
As we drape them over this dark coffin,
Carry with them our own hearts’ hopes.
“Let us strive on to finish the work we are in,
To bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle
and for his widow and his orphan…”
The perfume of the lilacs, as intense as it is,
Fills the dusty air, and makes the train whistle more like a dirge.
“To form a just and lasting peace”…
(BOOM BOOM BOOM, SHHHHH, BOOM! Whoo-woo!)
“All men are created equal.”
The ever-returning spring brings the flood of the lilac perfume
Through the open windows of the town,
Through the farms and offices and stores,
Through the lives of the women and men, remembering
The song of the grey-brown bird…
“Among ourselves and with all nations”.
( here we sing Green Grow the lilacs)
“Green grow the lilacs all sparkling with dew,
I’m lonely my darling since parting with you;
And by our next meeting I hope to prove true
And change the green lilacs to the red, white and blue”.
In the ever-returning spring, as the green corn ripens
And raises those eager shafts toward sunlight, blanketing the valleys,
And the ever-stronger whisper and roar of the traffic on the highways
Drowns out the small birds’ songs,
Let us hear again the light spare song of that grey-brown bird;
Singing of the law,
(In your courts, oh Lord, in your temple)
(here we sing The Battle Hymn of the Republic, especially the 3rd verse…)
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored…
I have seen him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps,
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps,
I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,
I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,
Hist truth is marching on!
He is sounding forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat,
He is sifting out the hearts of men before the judgement seat,
Oh be swift my soul to answer him, be jubilant my feet…”
The grey-brown bird of these measured and spare cathedrals, singing
The words of our laws;
The mind of steel like a lonely star, enduring the howled abuse by less wise men,
As he spoke to the better angels of our nation,
Let us not forget. Though the song comes from the solitary thrush,
Let us continue to pray to remember;
Through all these losses and the bare ruined winter branches,
When the lilacs bloom again,
When the voice of the dove is heard in the land,
We will remember.
And with those better angels, rise to sing
With the grey-brown bird who was the best of all our songbirds.
mn2016
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