I’ve been attending births as a doula for almost eight years now. Witnessing the miracle of birth is what keeps me in this career. Most of the time, I can’t believe how lucky I am, that families invite me to attend the births of their children. It is truly a humbling experience every time. I will admit however, that the memories of some of these births have faded over the years. But the first one, the very first birth I attended, that memory will remain with me forever.
I was a doula in training, eager to go to my first birth. In order to complete my doula certification I needed to attend six births with a proxy doula. My proxy was Erica. A tough talking Jewish woman from New York, Erica had no problem telling me exactly how it is with this job. I loved her for that. The reality of this profession is unforgiving, exhausting and wonderfully rewarding. I called Erica many times through my certification process. Once even during a birth to ask, “what should I do?”. She was always there, offering me sage advice.
I felt an instant connection with Erica. She had been a ballet dancer with The School of American Ballet. Our shared ballet background, gave us an easy understanding of one another. I would eagerly wait for her to tell me stories of her spotting George Balanchine in the halls. Or, of the students getting more competitive if they knew Mr. B was coming around the studio to find new dancers. It was Erica that took me to my first birth. I remember, getting a call from her in the middle of the night. “Mom is ready for us, come get me and let’s go.” I was so nervous, my adrenaline was pumping. I tried to calm myself as I got dressed as quickly and quietly as I could. The last thing I wanted was to wake up my five month old son. I kissed my husband goodbye and headed out the door.
Erica had told me in advance, that her client lived in a brand new development on the edge of town and the house was hard to find. “You’ll get lost if you’re alone, better pick me up and we’ll drive together.” She was so calm when she got into my car, sipping hot tea from her thermos, the tea tag swaying with the movement of the car. I tried not to drive too fast. We pulled up to the house and knocked on the door. The husband answered, “she’s in the tub” He said. Doubt started to creep into my head, “what if I do something wrong?” But then I remembered, Erica would definitely tell me if I was doing something I shouldn’t be.
We walked into the master bedroom and there mom was, laboring in a large birth pool with flowers floating on the surface, Enya playing softly in the background, the glow of a pink salt lamp providing the only light. Mom looked up at Erica and smiled, “I think I’m dying” she said. Erica gave her a half smile and an encouraging look, “you’re not dying” she said “you're having your baby”.
Erica suggested I get a cup and poor water from the warm tub onto mom’s back. From then on, that was my job, trying to avoid the floating flowers as I poured water onto mom’s back during her contractions. It wasn’t long before Erica called the midwife and soon, she and her assistant were walking into the bedroom. I watched as the midwife set everything up for the birth. I stayed in my spot, I didn’t want to get in their way. Soon mom was pushing, the midwife told me to stop with the water, I did and was about to get up when Erica told me to stay there and watch. The midwife handed me a flashlight to hold for her. I shined the light as we watched the baby come out into the water, and guided by the hands of the midwife, straight into moms arms.
Mom was elated and dad couldn’t believe their baby boy was here. I sat back, turned off the flashlight and soaked in the moment. That was pretty amazing. Once mom, dad and baby were cozy in bed, the midwife’s assistant, a tall German woman with blonde hair and a thick accent told me “Come, you want to learn? Let’s go” I smiled and followed her to the kitchen where she showed me how to prep the placenta for encapsulation. We also gathered all the towels we had used and started the laundry. “Mom is hungry, make her something to eat” she told me. I made scrambled eggs and toast with peanut butter. I brought it to mom who was happily watching as the midwife did the new born assessment. Dad brought their toddler in to meet the new baby. It was a wonderful moment to witness.
On the way home Erica told me, “don’t expect all births to be that easy!” I laughed. It did feel like a perfect dream birth. So smooth and short, we were only there about four hours. For an aspiring doula like I was, all those year ago, it couldn’t have been more beautiful. Erica was right of course. Over the years I would experience many births, some just as wonderful as the first, some much more difficult. However, the moment mom and dad see their baby for the first time, always remains the same. Joyful, relived, and completely in love with their new little miracle.
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