Joanna tending the new baby boy.
by Joanna Nemrava
My first child was born in the hospital almost eighteen years ago. It was a good birth, they told me—an easy birth. I remember thinking, You’ve got to be kidding me!
When my son Damian was nearly five years old, and I was pregnant again, there was no question in my mind—this baby was not going to be born in a hospital. With the encouragement of a midwife who emanated both her unshakable faith in the natural process of birth and, more importantly, her absolute belief in my ability to birth, my second child was born quietly and beautifully in our own home. Damian “midwifed” me throughout the labor—rubbing my back, and bringing me water and cold cloths. When inspiration moved me to finally get into the bathtub, I knew that Senya would be a water baby. The pain of contractions became waves of intense sensation that couldn’t quite be called pain, though they consumed my body every two or three minutes. With my son, my partner, and my dog all crowded into the tiny bathroom space of our Vancouver basement suite, Senya came swooshing into the world, “like a torpedo,” as my elder son would later say. We held our baby skin-to-skin, tears and bathwater and blood swirling around me—no bright lights, nowhere to go, no one to take my baby away and just clean him up, dear. And suddenly the sweet voice of my elder son raised in song—“You are My Sunshine”—welcoming his new baby brother. We just laughed when we realized that we had no cord clamp. My grandmother called. It makes me smile to recall the response my partner joyfully yelled into the phone: “We are just boiling up the shoelaces!”
Two years later, thirty-seven weeks pregnant with my daughter,
I loaded all of my worldly possessions, my boys, and my dog, into a Datsun pickup truck and moved from Victoria to Vancouver. I met my midwife for the first time and then we all drove to Salmon Arm where my Dodge Camper Van was waiting to provide our summer home. At thirty-eight-plus weeks, I had cleaned and cozied up the camper van and we all headed back to Vancouver. At thirty-nine weeks, late one evening when my boys were tucked into their cots and I sat reading a book by the light from the street lamp near a convenience store, my water broke. I was thrilled— my daughter would arrive soon. Serenely, I put water on the stove for my labor tea, as I knew that contractions would soon begin. I phoned my midwife and left a message to let her know that I would soon call her to attend the birth. Then I tidied my camper kitchen, measured out my labor tea herbs, and hummed happily to myself in the peaceful quiet of night.
Contractions began to come quickly. I called my midwife. She cried, “WHERE ARE YOU!?!” before I had a chance to say hello. She had been frantic that I might have been alone and birthing somewhere in a Vancouver 7-Eleven parking lot.
The camper van, with boys and dog, was deemed unsuitable for my birthplace, so Teasha was born at our midwife’s home. It was a beautiful homebirth and I was thankful to my midwife, who gracefully accepted my choices and kept a safe space for my final sacred journey through birthing. Senya slept through the whole thing and woke to his sister’s thin wail. Damian cut the cord and held the flashlight for the midwife to see. For several days afterward we enjoyed our babymoon in the comfort of our midwife’s home and her fragrant gardens. Then, despite her invitation to stay longer, we gathered our lives back into our camper van and headed off. I longed to return to my favorite overnight camping spot near the university endowment lands, on the edge of a large grass field near a fine thick growth of wild brambleberries where we could pick a lovely feast of berries for our morning breakfast with yogurt and nuts.
Four years after Teasha’s birth, I was accepted into the University of British Columbia Midwifery Program to embark on my new adventure to become a midwife. Being a midwife has been both challenging and deeply rewarding. My greatest joy in my work is when I am able to honor a woman’s choices and let her lead me through her birth experience, while holding her safe space and guarding over her sacred journey through birth. I love the relationships that women share with me. It is an honor to earn a woman’s trust and share in one of her most intimate experiences.
Every birth is unique. From each birth, I hold the precious memory of a woman’s strength, pain, and joy. This is true for hospital birth and homebirth. However, a birth in a woman’s home has a profoundly different energy. She is in her own territory; therefore, I am a special guest in her home while she retains her power. She moves where she wishes, eats as she likes, raises her voice without censor, sheds her clothes without asking permission, gathers those around her who support and nourish her journey, and instinctively adopts her best position and place for birthing her own child. I hold her safe space, quietly monitoring labor and fetus, offering guidance when needed. It is profoundly moving to be so trusted in this role of protector, facilitator, and witness. To help a woman discover her true strength when she feels she cannot go on, to guide her through the last moments of birth, to assist her partner in lifting the wet warm newborn to its mother’s breast—these are the rewards of my work as a midwife. Each birth reminds me of the gift that my midwives shared with me, and I am thankful and humbled to have the opportunity to share that gift with others. What I ask of all homebirth mamas is—tell your story. Share that gift with others and spread the word. Women are strong, and birth can be an empowering part of our life journey as women, and as mothers.
Joanna tending the new baby boy.
Joanna is a proud mama to three beautiful children and the founder and owner of Mighty Oak Midwifery Care. She is the Head of the Department of Midwifery at Royal Inland Hospital, the current president ofthe Canadian Association ofMidwives, has served on the Board of Directors of the Midwives Association of BC since 2003, and is a clinical assistant professor with the University ofBritish Columbia Midwifery Education Program.
FROM TAO TE CHING
