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| This is what our home was like right after Auburn's birth. It was a wonderful welcoming party right in our living room. |
During my first pregnancy, I worked in the Provo LDS Temple for eight hours every Saturday afternoon. I started the service when my midsection was flat and unshapely, but over the following number of months it started to expand. It filled out my white dress and then began to stretch the thick jersey cotton beyond full capacity.
As every pregnant woman in the history of humans can testify: bulging-middled, backward-leaning, frequent-peeing womenfolk garner comments and questions from friends, family, and strangers alike. Lots of remarks and queries. Some folks are benignly curious, some kind and congratulatory, some enthusiastic and encouraging, some downright rude and derogatory, and on and on. Ladies are eager to commiserate. Gentlemen are eager to just be part of the conversation (or so I think, but I'm not a man, so I can't pinpoint for certain their motivation).
I always wished there wasn't a conversation to be had around my middle to begin with. Talk about awkward. Especially awkward are those who can't help but to touch the protrusion as if it isn't part of my body and incredibly encroaching. A time or two, I've encountered people who have actually expressed a desire to kiss my bulging middle. And that's just weird.
One warm Saturday evening, having just completed my shift working in the temple, I waited in the serenely elegant foyer for my husband to emerge from the men's dressing room. An older patron stood nearby between two upholstered chairs. He seemed to be waiting for someone, as well. As was becoming the standard, a conversation involving my apparently pregnant belly ensued. And though miffed to begin with, I quickly became engaged in what amounted to a meaningful exchange.
This conversation in the temple foyer quickly moved from my pregnant belly across the Rockies and the Dust Bowl to Kansas where the man's daughter-in-law shared in my condition. I congratulated him on his up and coming grandchild. He asked if I had considered home birth. It had never crossed my mind. He then told me more about his family in Kansas. It would be their sixth baby. The previous five were all born at home and after the first two, his son had provided the only assistance at delivery. I congratulated the man a second time for having a doctor-son.
"He isn't a doctor."
He was an electrician.
I stood corrected and somewhat dismayed. What business had an electrician in the catching of babies? The man explained that the son and his wife felt comfortable in their independence. He assured me that birth is a natural process and not something to fear.
This was the first time anyone had ever demystified birth for me. I was intrigued by home-birth and honestly flabbergasted by the idea of a doctor-less birth. I am grateful for this man, a stranger, having the courage to speak up with his unusual story. I didn't know it then, but it would help to shape my own.
Fast-forward five years. I was pregnant for the third time. My prenatal care provider was not working out because of a change in hospital policy. If I used her at delivery, I would have to travel more than an hour to the second hospital she had a contract with. Other OBs and CNMs in the area had contracts with the hospital in Ithaca, which was not a hospital I felt comfortable in.
A friend who I had grown up with, posted a picture of her newborn on Facebook with the caption "born at home this morning". The image of the man with the free-birthing daughter-in-law immediately flashed through my mind.
"Have you ever considered home birth?" He asked me a second time.
"Now I am," I told him.
With that, I contacted my old friend to find out how you accomplish an assisted home birth. Where does one find midwives of the homebirthing variety? And how exorbitant are their fees? Will insurance cover it? That's what I asked her.
Months later, Auburn was born in a nest of towels on my bathroom floor. Every delivery has been somewhat of a rebirth for me, but that one in our home, surrounded by comfort and familiarity and love, changed my perspective of myself and of life. I felt more confidence in my abilities and my body than ever before. And birth became a natural and beautiful occurrence. It was an experience I have reflected on many, many times.
I made sure to yell it from the figurative roof tops after Auburn was, "Born at home this morning!" That's what was captioned under her newborn photo on Facebook. "Born at home," written simply on her birth announcement. "Born at home," I told strangers and friends alike. I proclaimed it, not because I felt overly proud or because I particularly like to talk about myself. I proclaimed it because I wanted to give back. I was gifted my experience because two people were willing to share an unusual story and in so doing let me see new possibilities. I never would have pursued a home birth if it weren't for their candor and vulnerability. They taught me about home birth, an experience that has profoundly affected me, but they also taught me an important lesson about opening up to people.
It is brave to share your story. Other people will be brave when they hear it.
