Boundless Thanks

I ran into the midwife who delivered Josephine yesterday at the grocery store--the first time I've seen her since around six weeks after the birth. I felt an immediate surge of happiness when I realized it was her, and she apparently remembered me (or else faked it really well!) and threw her arms around me in a great hug. I caught her up on the last 6 1/2 months of baby life, and she told me some very depressing news. The medical practice that employs her (and two other midwives) is discontinuing their services as of July. Seems they are in some financial trouble having hired several new doctors (with doctor salaries and malpractice premiums), and something, or really, someone, had to go.

I can't even begin to say how upset this makes me. Besides the fact that this is a huge loss for the community, and the fact that now anyone who goes through their pregnancies with that practice will be required to see nine doctors over nine months as opposed to three midwives, it also makes me sad in a very personal way. She and the woman who delivered Rudy are inextricably and very positively tied to my memories of pregnancy and birth, and I cannot imagine the experience without their care and guidance. In each case, I was offered exactly the kind of care I needed. With Rudy, I needed a strong hand and the voice of experience to get me through a tough induction. Someone who held me by both shoulders and looked me directly in the eyes when I was reeling out of control and said, "Listen to me. This is what you need to do." With Josephine, I needed less of that direction and more room to follow my instincts and labor on my own. I needed someone who knew enough to say to me when I was again reeling out of control, "Your body knows what it's doing. Just let it do its job."

This is going to sound maybe overwrought, but I love these women. They cared for me in a very real way during the two most painful, exhilarating, and transformative experiences of my life. It's really nothing short of a tragedy that the women coming after me in this community will not have the benefit of their nurturing and skill.

So here, in this admittedly not-very-public place, I want to register my outrage at their dismissal and acknowledge them for ushering me firmly, gently and lovingly into motherhood.

Thank you, Anne. Thank you, Bev.

Thank you both so very much.