I had my doula certification workshop this weekend, and during the workshop we went over our required reading list. Then, our instructor gave us the names of books that aren't on the list, but definitely worth reading. One of the books that came up is The Baby Catcher, by Peggy Vincent. Peggy Vincent is a well respected midwife, who started out as a nurse. You can read her bio here

I was desperately looking for a birth related book, but something that wasn't so clinical (my brain can't handle anymore of those books at the moment), so I went to the book store, and bought the book.

OH MY GOSH...

I was only able to read the first chapter this morning before the boys woke up, but it had me in tears. Peggy was a young student nurse working in the OB section of a large hospital. It was her first day on the job, and she was overseeing her first labor. Hospital regulations stated that laboring mothers were not allowed to leave the confines of their bed. However, the laboring mother, Zelda, was not cooperating. Here's a short excerpt:

Zelda realized he was determined to knock her out, no matter what, and she went wild again, tossing her head and making strangled sounds from beneath the cushioned mask. She kicked and bucked with every ounce of her strength but succeeded only in rattling the delivery table till I feared the bolts would shake loose.

She couldn’t keep it up forever, but her face turned deep purple before she finally sucked in a tremendous mouthful of the gas. Her fists and spine relaxed, and her head rolled to the side as she slumped into unconsciousness. When the doctor lifted the mask, dribbles of spit hung out the side of her slack mouth before dripping to the pillow.

"Jeezis, I’m glad this one’s over," growled the doctor.

Invisible in my student uniform, I stood beside her as they untied her arms and legs and moved her onto the gurney. A tall nurse carried the bundled baby out the door, and I thought, Zelda doesn’t even know it’s a boy. I slipped my fingers into her loosely curled hand and held it as I watched another nurse jam a white sanitary pad between her dark and bloody thighs. When they stretched her legs out flat, her belly wrinkled like a deflated brown balloon and slumped between her angular hipbones.

I stared at her a moment, and then I grabbed a sheet from the linen shelf and covered her nakedness, wanting to do more.

So much more.

The section in BOLD is the section that had me crying. At first I envisioned myself as Zelda: a mother powerless in her own birth. Then I switched roles and became Peggy: a young nurse, wanting to help Zelda, but being powerless to do so. There simply are no words.

We've come a long way with laboring mothers and childbirth, but we still have a long way to go. I really do want to help women in their births, but I wonder if my "calling" is to help change policy. Should I become a lobbyist? Or am I best serving mothers by supporting, educating and advocating for them during their births? I'm not sure what the right answer is at the moment. I'm sure that it's going to take a couple of births to decide where I 'fit'. But I'm looking forward to the journey.