Love Birth. Will Travel.

In July I had the privilege of attending a birth, over 1800kms from home. I've known the Mumma for four years through the Joyous Birth network. Back then we were both pregnant (her with her second, me with my first) and planning our first homebirths. Last year we found ourselves pregnant again and when my bub was around 3 or 4 months, Kat asked me if I would take a doula holiday to be with her when her baby was born.

We had some trouble deciding when I should take flight to her, because babies aren't buses (and even those don't run on time!). In the end we decided I would come just before her irrelevant due date and stay for ten days (the time was, sadly, dictated by how much leave my partner could take from work to care for our eldest while I was at Kat's birth with our youngest). My family caught two buses, two trains and a plane to get to Kat's hometown. There we stayed in a cabin by the creek in Maroochy, squeezing holiday adventures in between birth preparation meets. It was a lot of fun.

Kat and I got a kick out of seeing our two children born around the same time playing together. We had long exchanged tales of parenting these two spirited blessings and she had told me her son was the boy version of my eldest. My girls also adored her daughter. I have many memories of my baby giggling her head off at Kat's children, particularly her son making fire engine noises (which he did long after he was bored with it because he felt it his duty to "make baby happy!").

A few days after I arrived we took some photos of Kat's impressive belly at 39 weeks gestation.

We talked about her pregnancy, her birth plans, her fears and contingency plans. We debriefed previous birth experiences and explored the very real possibility that this baby's birth would be a completely new experience. Her irrelevant due date came in the middle of the trip and Kat was very ready to farewell what had been a challenging pregnancy. 

One week after my family left our hometown, I met Kat's local doula. I felt much calmer about the likelihood that I would be back home before the baby was born once I met Pernille. Kat wouldn't be without a birthy sister if that's what she wanted when the time came. 

Friday I was anxious. My departure time was just around the corner, Kat was incredibly uncomfortable, but feeling that baby was settling in. I wanted Kat to feel comfortable again, I wanted to be present for the birth, but I also didn't want her feeling like a watched pot that never boils. I challenged myself to focus on what I could do and what I had done, even if I missed the birth. All that mattered was that Kat felt I had served her well, but would she feel that way if I left before the birth? Could I, should I change my flights? Could I find someone to watch my eldest while I was still in Queensland and my partner had to return to work? And what if I did all this and found myself facing the exact same issues at the end of next week? 

I resolved to accept that I was not meant to be at this birth and began writing about what a birth servant's role is and what it isn't. Kat's journey was forcing me to reassess what a birth servant is, with the (rather obvious) conclusion that watching babies come out of vaginas is an occasional perk, not the job description.

On Saturday my family went to the Eumundi Markets to meet up with some friends. It was a much needed adventure, I lost myself amongst stalls and in good company. In the afternoon Kat's husband and son joined us and we watched the kids play for a couple of hours before heading back. Kat asked our mutual friend, Nat, to stop by before heading home. 

I was exhausted and fell asleep on the bus ride back. My partner and I decided that he would take the kids to the supermarket to get supplies for dinner and I would return to the cabin and take a nap. I staggered from the bus stop to the bed and just as my head hit the pillow my phone buzzed. I knew what the message was about :D

Nat had dropped by at Kat's request to say hi and now she was working as a doula. This was not what she had thought the day had in store for her when she drove to Eumundi early in the morning. 

I let my partner know I had a birth to get to tonight and I'd need our baby. We worked out he'd be returning to the cabin on the same bus I wanted to catch to Kat's so we arranged a switcheroo. As I jumped on the bus and got a ticket, he handed me the baby and mei tai before stepping off.  A little after 6pm I was whizzing up labourade. By 9:30pm 11.5 pounds of baby girl had been born.

For my last day there I spent a few hours at Kat's house. As I arrived Kat's husband came out to greet me with a thank-you and a hug for my part in the night before's fun. Then he headed off to the hospital to be with his wife and baby, while I minded their two older children. They were very excited about their new sister they had yet to meet. Their Aunt came by to collect them and take them to the hospital to meet the baby. I stayed behind, finishing off the dishes and making sure all the surfaces in the kitchen were spotless. Then I made my way to the hospital, as requested. It was then that I met "Erin".

Erin and Kat were getting off to a fabulous start with their breastfeeding. Of the past six years Kat has spent breastfeeding, she has only had a six month break and now she embarks on a tandem feeding adventure.

Our flight home left Brisbane at 8pm on Monday night. Before catching the two trains from where we were staying to the airport I dropped by Kat's house to make a fresh bottle of labourade. I had the pleasure of teaching her eldest daughter how to do it too so she could keep her Mumma well stocked in the beverage after I was gone.

Before departing I said good-bye and thank-you to Kat. She was snuggled up in bed with her delicious new girl. So much that could not be said, was felt instead, holding hands, embracing one another. We laughed at how our babies were wearing the same sized suits despite almost seven months passing between their births.

A few hours later I just had to know the stats. As we checked our luggage in at the airport I plonked my baby on the conveyer-belt and learned that she weighed a mere kilo more than Kat's not yet 48-hour old baby!

Home again now and everything is exactly as it was before, for me. I feel as if I dreamt that week. Then Kat shares photos of Erin via Facebook and I remember it was real. I wish I weren't so far from them now, but trust the women still there are nurturing the pair well in my absence.

Dearest Kat, thank-you so much for inviting me to join you for that week. 

Part of what makes it feel so dream-like to me is that I cannot believe my luck that I got to be in the same space as you as you birthed. What luck! What honour! To top it all off it happened in this surreal holiday land where it's Summer in Winter.

My only regret is that I was unable to be there for more of the postpartum care. Hopefully the labourade and herbs served you well and you're still scoring snuggle-time in bed with that perfect girl, just as I left you xoxo.

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.