Modern Medieval Medicine

If you didn't read yesterday's post you should scroll down and read it first. I once thought if I should ever have another child I would do it the old fashioned way. I would use a midwife and a doula and have the baby at home. No hospitals. No drugs. Maybe even do it in water. I even talked to Steven about it before and after we married. Right down to him delivering his child. He wasn't really comfortable with the idea but said he would be willing to learn and at least try -for me. I understood his unspoken fears about childbirth and all things it involves. We talked about him being uncomfortable and his need to grow into the idea. Deep down I knew what I wanted and felt a little hurt with his lack of full blown acceptance and enthusiasm. We worked through those long middle of the night conversations and reached a place we were both comfortable with the possibility. When I started looking for an OBGYN I also looked for a Midwife. Our health insurance carrier did not list any midwives and I could only locate one through the state directory that was even close to where we are now. So, for the moment I shelved the idea. I chose a provider through our insurance plan and made the appointment. I had no idea who the doctor was I would be seeing yesterday. I only knew from a bio that he was a pro-life doctor in business for 30 years specializing in tubal reconstruction. Which translated to me as devote catholic who would NOT be interested in performing a tubal ligation after this was all said and done. Which was okay, we had agreed that baby or no baby, when I reached 40 the end would be here and Steven would have a vasectomy. Yesterday, I walked across the burning pavement. Heat rose up to meet me and hit me in a wave that turned my cheeks red and made sweat pour down my face. I reached the front door of the office building just as a woman with several children pushed the door open to exit. I stepped aside and a kindly old gentleman came up at that moment, held the door for the lady and her kids and gestured me inside. I said, "Thank you," glad for the manners and the refuge of the coolness behind the glass door. The older man stood at the elevator and punched the up button while I searched the building directory looking for the office I was to be in. The elevator opened, he ushered me in again and I punched the floor button I needed. He stepped in went to push a button and said, "Well, there isn't another need to push it again." A little small talk as the elevator doors closed. I glanced at his name tag. Looked again. "I think I am going to your office." "Let's get you in then, " he smiled, but not too friendly, just politely. I went into his glass doored office and straight to the receptionist desk. He disappeared behind a door into the inner sanctum. I filled out paperwork but before I was halfway finished the nurse said the doctor was ready and I could finish the paperwork after my appointment. I was impressed all ready. I had been in the office only minutes and was being taken back. I did the pregnant woman bathroom cup routine, had my weight checked, blood pressure, etc. and was led to an examination room. About 2 minutess after I was on the table sans bottoms and a sheet over me there was a knock at the door and the nurse peeked in saying the doctor would be right in. 30 seconds later, the doctor came in followed by a petite dark haired woman. "Do you mind if Anna joins us?" a hint of an accent. "No, not at all." "Anna is our certified nurse midwife. There is a good chance she could be the one delivering your baby." Full Irish brogue! "Oh, that is wonderful. I have been considering using a midwife instead of an OBGYN. This just makes a visit to your office even better for me." 15 minutes later I was walking to the Explorer, cell phone in hand, trying to climb into my heat box and call Steven at the same time. Moral to the story: When you unselfishly think of the other half who is in this game called marriage, God provides the answer to both of your needs and you don't even have to lift a finger. I got my midwife. Steven got his PhD. Doula: The word, "doula," comes from the Greek word for the most important female slave or servant in an ancient Greek household, the woman who probably helped the lady of the house through her childbearing. The word has come to refer to "a woman experienced in childbirth who provides continuous physical, emotional, and informational support to the mother before, during and just after childbirth." Dave: I have that recipe for you. I'll post it tomorrow. Kate: I'll do the meme tomorrow. P.S. Thank you for the name suggestions. If it is a girl we already know her name. Steven and I both have a grandmother who was very dear to each of us. Both have the same name. Should we have a girl she will be named for her two great-grandmothers.