Evolving Definiton of "Birth Servant"

When I first felt the call to become a birth servant I imagined watching babies emerge from vaginas. I thought that was the job description. But the last three births I've attended have taught me that bearing witness to mothers pushing out their babies is but a perk of the birth servant's work.

As I arrived at Loz's newly minted birth space her midwife apologised to me because I had missed the main event. But it wasn't the first time. Eloise “fell” out of Sarah with only her Father present, just two hours prior I had been with them. And I missed my first hospital birth experience a couple of months ago when the sibling-support person cancelled and someone was needed to stay home and care for the mumma's already earthside children.

I was asked by a friend if missing births bothers me and for the most part it doesn't. I believe that you make it to the births you're meant to be present for. This is also why I'm not fussed about my 1 birth a year average and don't actively seek advertising or promotion.

It's also worth considering how people define “birth”. For example, while I wasn't present at the exact moment Eloise was born, I spent two full days with Sarah in the lead up to that moment. In retrospect I attended more of that birth than any other support person on Sarah's team, I missed two hours (they just happened to be the most action packed!). Birthing is a journey and it starts long before you spy a crowning head. 

Bearing witness to a new being entering the world is extraordinarily humbling, exciting, magical and yet boringly normal all at the same time. But most of the work birth attendants do happens before and after the birth. I was honoured to sew wheat packs for Sarah as she dilated around the house and the hours I spent with Loz after River's birth were other-worldly.

It would be rather hypocritical for me to get upset about missing births when I myself have assembled a “birth” support team with the explicit understanding that they would not be invited to the birth when the time came. Some women prefer to birth alone, or one on one with a loved one. It's rare for a baby to read the birth plan before the big day. Generally, babies have their own plan, which we get to discover in the moment. And while their Mummas might want me there, the babies choose differently.

Ultimately if the Mumma who asked me to join her is satisfied with the role I played throughout her journey, then I'm happy. It is, after all, all about her and her baby, not me. I suspect that the longer you serve birth, the more humble you become. I know that when I started dreaming of being at births, in 2006, I had grandiose visions of myself playing the role of superhero. Undies on the outside, cape and all, standing between a birthing woman and a knife wielding surgeon. A very egostistical view of my role.

Since attending births and giving birth, I now understand that the superhero is the Mumma. She doesn't need a cape or undies on the outside, she's got all her power within. Thus far I've only been at homebirths (or the home-part of a hospital birth), so there has been no knife wielding surgeon, and no need for anyone to protect the Mumma. The idea of birth servant as hero is ludicrous to me these days. Birthing women don't need saving!

Experience has taught me that my job involves getting myself the hell out of the way! Stand back and let that Mumma release her powers. I'm sure it would be different if I were attending births in hospital where the black cloud of intervention looms and the dynamics of numerous staff come into play. I'm sure attending hospital births will teach me a lot of new lessons, when the time comes. But even then, it won't be about me protecting or saving the mother. It will be about finding a way to ensure that everyone else in the space stands back and lets the birthing woman be her own hero.

Now, that may require some ninja-doula skill... ;P

My friend Sarah as a jedi-doula, a role I described to her in my birth plan (complete with this pic) last year.