Beaming smiles.
by Ruby Peterson
Hello, my name is Ruby Peterson, and I would like to share with you my homebirth stories. They are stories I am proud of, and I hope that you will be inspired by them.
Beaming smiles.
My first homebirth was fairly typical as far as having a midwife-assisted homebirth. I was living in a major city in BC, with access to the blessed services of a midwife team. Of course, our plan (OK, my plan) was to have my mom, sister, and niece present along with my husband at our homebirth. Unfortunately, this was not in my unborn child’s plan, and he out-waited them. Shortly after the last car drove away with my family in it, he came to meet us and this world. He arrived simply in the presence of me, my two midwives, and my husband.
My second birth story is not quite so simple. By the time of the birth, my husband was out of the picture, and so were the city life and all its amenities (and midwives). I had moved to a small rural area, where midwives were not available locally and homebirths were not accepted. So we traveled to and from a larger city to receive midwifery care. At home, I argued with the doctors about supporting my desire to have a homebirth.
After the first long-winded lecture on medical safety from the first doctor, I informed him that I was simply having a baby and was not sick—and then switched doctors. The second doctor, while he also was unwilling to support my homebirth plan, was at least more open to sharing the load with my midwife as it became more difficult to travel the two and a half to three hours with my young child to appointments. I asked him whether they would care for me if I “presented” at the hospital in labor, and he let me know that they would. I proceeded with my plan.
I met with some close friends and explained my position, asking if they would be willing to support me in a homebirth. We organized several roles: one person to assist/coach me through labor, one person to be there to gather necessary items (we also put a package of necessary items together ahead of time); one person to be there to watch my three-and-a-half-year-old son; and one to record the birth. One friend did back out, because she did not feel comfortable with the procedures. And one friend got a big scolding from her grandmother—then was informed that her grandmother also used to be asked to assist with homebirths in her village, before they were relocated to our present-day villages.
The time for labor came one morning when I got up to get my son ready for preschool. At about 8:30 a.m., I called my friends, and they came over right away. We visited and told stories, and I moved in and out of the tub—nope, no waterbirth was going to happen, I could not get comfortable there. At noon, another friend came over with some wonderful-smelling food, and my goddaughter came from school to visit. And it was then that I had her. With one dear friend coaching us all through, one sister-friend holding me up in the squatting position, and my goddaughter catching my baby girl!
This was the most powerful moment I remember—my baby girl being brought into this world with the assistance of five amazing and beautiful women. Having her enter the world in this way was and still is so very significant for me. We stood strong together. All of the adult women are now her aunties—guiding and loving her. These ladies continue to let her know who she is and her connections to them. As for the two young ladies who witnessed—they both say it is a great form of birth control for them!
Now for my third homebirth story. This one came with my new family. We still lived in a very rural area, and midwifery was not available locally. However, a new doctor was in the area, and there was a new pilot program for midwife practicums and nurse support for pregnant women. These extra services were offered in an effort to enable us pregnant women to receive more support than regular prenatal care offered. Again, I spoke with my doctor about homebirth. At first he did not foresee a problem, but after speaking with the head doctor, informed me that I would need to meet with the head doctor. Once again I was given the lecture about its being unsafe, and my being two hours from a hospital, and about concerns that they could not hook up the electric monitors to ensure we were healthy. And again I informed the doctor that having a baby was a natural and normal process, and I was not sick. More words were spoken, and I let him know that I believe that I know my body best, and unless I became unhealthy, I would be carrying on with another homebirth. Since I had done it before, they took me seriously.
They allowed my midwife to come to my home, and arranged for a nurse who used to work at a birthing center in the neighboring province of Alberta to assist her.
When the time came, we phoned the midwife, assisting nurse, my two sisters-in-law, one of my dear friends who coached before (and her family), and my mother-in-law to all come. So with them, and my two children, and my new husband’s two teenage children, we waited, ate, visited, walked, and ate and walked some more. Finally my baby got serious about meeting us after dinner the following night. Again, my friend assisted and took direction from the midwife. The nurse was amazing, calm, and just did what was needed when they discovered the cord was around his neck. My five-year-old son checked on me from time to time, and my daughter fell asleep in her granny’s arms. My second son came into the world and right into his daddy’s arms, surrounded by a very large family waiting to meet him.
Homebirthing my three children was the best thing I could have done. I am grateful to have been able to bring them into the world with as much comfort as possible, with loved ones all around, and in a natural and nurturing way. It was and still is important to me to push the issue with the doctors in my community that birthing a child is a natural and normal process and not a medical experience. I was not willing to let this spiritual and beautiful gift of giving life be medicalized, and I pray more of us can see the sacredness of bringing such a precious gift into this world.
This is my story, and I hope it inspires many to experience the spiritual journey of birthing in a natural and nurturing environment with loved ones surrounding you.
Picnic on the boardwalk.
Ruby is from the ’Namgis First Nation from Alert Bay, where she works as a counselor. Ruby has a Master of Education degree in Aboriginal community counseling.
by Kirsty Elliot
The smell of spaghetti sauce
causes my face to turn white
wrench in my guts
heavy and cold.
Walking up the hill I must stop
to rest in the moss.
check pockets for candy
but find only a tiny tampon
plastic wrapper peeling open
wispy cotton filament
turned dirt brown
it’s been in there for weeks.
It is in that quiet moment
I feel the rattle of knowing.
The next day I seek proof
in a gas station ladies room
my pee like magic
causes a blue plus sign
to appear in the window
as baby Coco discovers
motion activated
paper towel dispensers
my reality crumbles
and rebuilds itself
in an instant.
I have become a vessel again.
A warm pink ship
with a walnut-sized sailor
nested between hips and thorax
clinging between woowoo and heart.
Just when I can fit into my jeans again
I begin rereading baby name books
Alex Sapho Sienna Po.
I do the daily swallow
of pink lady vitamins
to balance out Valentine’s day
and my enthusiasm for merlot
a few days after our bed
in the silver airstream
became a portal for the universe
to expand through
my lips red as cinnamon hearts.
Maybe other women get happy
when their wombs finally get to do more
than bartend for Keeper menstrual cups
but I get sad
The first time because
I so loved being a selfish, dreamy loner.
This time because
when Coco goes to bed at night
I will see an article of her clothing
and it will be printed with duckies
and buzzing with her atoms
and I love her so desperately
I can barely stand to be divided.
Like my nervous system
became french-braided with hers
the night the gods shitkicked
my ego and body till morning
causing me to buckle over
as she pushed and fell her way into
the world my arms.
