We’ll be birthing our baby at Mountain Midwifery–at least, thats the plan. It’s a stucco building complex called Plaza de Medicos that was probably once an apartment complex. All the curve-topped cottage doors open to the outside. There’s a courtyard for fresh air and it has two stories with a balcony along the top. I like the feel of it. It’s a little retro, very peach , nine minutes from our house and just a block from Swedish Hospital.
When we attended the orientation more than six months ago, Scarlett was just a little lime. There’d been no kicking, no ultrasound and no belly yet. I’d hardly felt pregnant. But I liked the place immediately. Its much more home than hospital. Much more bedroom than bedpan. There’s no nurse station. It has more birthing chairs than wheelchairs. Appointments with the midwives (there are eight) often last a full hour. Herbs are on sale. Birthing pools are available. They can administer oxygen, IVs and use a handheld doppler fetal monitor. They do not perform epesiotomies.
I didn’t start out pining for a birth center and I am still, and I stress, in no way, anti-hospital. I just want to be an independent thinker. I first realized that I had a choice when I saw The Business of Being Born, a documentary which interlaces personal home birth stories with historical, political and scientific insights and statistics about the current maternity system and how American health care deals with pregnancy and birth. The film asks the question: Should most births be viewed as a natural life process, or should every delivery be treated as a potentially catastrophic medical emergency?
Was the film left? Yes. And I kept this in mind during my four viewings (once at the festival, once on my own, once with my husband and once with my Mom). I was careful to note the editing, the emotional appeal and the anti-hospital sentiment. It went a little too far. Bias was abound. Yet I came away with a clear goal: That wherever I birthed, I wanted a) it to be as natural and fearless as possible. b) the decisions for medical intervention such as a c-section, vacuum, pitocin or membrane rupture to be based on my specific situation, not the worst-case scenario and c) to honor the process of birth.
To further my study, I’d also begun reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, which details birth stories from The Farm, a commune in Tennessee where hundreds of babies are born without epidurals, c-sections, vacuums, forceps or epesiotomies every year. I looked into the various birthing classes. . .The Bradley Method, Birthing from Within and Hypnobabies. And because the birth center took almost every kind of insurance except mine (Kaiser), I had a lot of my early appointments with a traditional OB-GYN. I talked to moms who’d birthed at the center and people who’d gone the traditional route. I visited a midwifery wing in a hospital, realizing this was also an option. I spoke with a doula or two.
The more I learned, the more I realized how Hollywood, media and marketing had been misleading me for decades. Images of screaming, swearing women had led me to believe that birthing required a horizontal position, unspeakable pain and a hospital setting. Not to mention a lot of panic. Turns out birthing is rarely a medical emergency, it seldom happens all that fast and being on your back is not an optimum position for giving birth.
This was great news, but I had a bigger problem. I *was* a natural panicker. An overreactor. And this did not bode well for my birth. My mother had us all naturally. . .and despite the fact that deep down, she knew that no one would ever use the word “tough” to describe me, she encouraged me to do the same. She believed. Blindly, but she believed. My husband, well, he knew how I rolled. I may bitch a lot along the way, but I was typically brave enough to dive in and once there, too determined to quit.
Why is all this important? Because the midwifery center doesn’t administer epidurals. Just another factor in our decision.
As my pregnancy continues, and I hear more about the hospital experience and I spend more and more time at the birth center for breastfeeding advice, hypnobabies classes and belly checks, I felt better and better about our decision. The center is was not anti-hospital or even anti-Western medicine. They are simply pro-healthy. They empower you to educate yourself and work together with your body and your baby for a calm, fearless birth.
At Mountain Midwifery, I knew I wouldn’t have to fight off a pitocin-happy nurse, refuse unnecessary antibiotics, beg to be given food and drink or be tempted to get an epidural. The midwives at Mountain Midwifery are educated, certified and experienced; they are kind, patient and wise. They respect my birth plan and base their decisions on my scenario alone. Tracy Ryan, the center’s founder, has helped birth over 500 babies. I feel safe there. I trust those midwives to make the right decision, whether it’s time to push, time to head to the hospital for a c-section or time to wait.
Of course, as some people like to comment: “Sure, I had a birth plan, too. . .and then it all went out the window.” Yep, I know everything could change in an instant. I could “risk-out”. There are several situations where the birth center immediately defers to a hospital–meconium in the amniotic fluid is one example. And I’m trying to prepare for that. Because something else they teach you at Mountain Midwifery is the idea of acceptance. Everyone should have a birth plan. But as my body “transports a soul from one dimension to another,” (as described by my husband), it may have other ideas. All I can do is honor the process and hope to be as present as possible.
