*I* am a midwife

I began my journey into birth work with my own personal journey into motherhood- the birth of my first baby. I emerged from the experience as a mother- the repeated cliche of false assurance of a 'healthy mom and healthy baby' that I oh so cringe when I hear-  but with little feelings of positivity and empowerment. I took a look back at the events and my experience as a whole and realized that I had not been an educated, active participant in the birth of my baby and the birth of myself as a mother. I thought to myself, “That was not the way it could have been or SHOULD have been. There has to be a better way!” I vowed that I would do things differently the next time around.

In seeking my own knowledge and wanting to pass it on to support other women, I became a Childbirth Educator and Doula. I went on to have my second baby- an unrestricted, unmedicated, empowering birth within a hospital. Wanting to have a larger scope of support and care, I went on to complete an intensive 2 1/2 year apprenticeship at a busy freestanding birth center, Mat-Su Midwifery- under the guidance and wisdom of some of the best midwives. During the time of my intensive training, so much life happened...settling into life in Alaska- a place I never in my wildest dreams thought I would ever live, the pregnancy and birth of my 3rd baby- born into the water, in the comfort and safety of my home- and so much knowledge, experience, and insight gained from the countless births I was a part of.

Today I found out that I passed the NARM exam. I am now a midwife. All of the sadness I had felt before about the end of my training has now been replaced by pure excitement and happiness, and some relief that my training is behind me. I know, of course, that my training and learning will never end, for as long as I am working and serving women and families...but it will be different now. Good different.

I have been doing birth work for over 6 years now- either as a Childbirth Educator, Doula, or Apprentice Midwife. I have been a part of so many pregnancies- so many births- so many lives. Most of the births I have been a part of, I can remember with clarity, better than my own births. Cumulatively, they have been just as profound as my own births.

So I want to say thank you for the many families I still have contact with... Thank you for allowing me to play a role in your story. For trusting me and confiding in me, for learning from me but also simultaneously teaching me. With every pregnancy or every birth I have attended, I have walked away as a better teacher, supporter, or midwife. You have claim to the midwife I am and will continue to grow into and I hope you realize the importance of that.

So with that said...

THERE IS SOME CELEBRATING TO BE DONE!!!!!!!

Love to all,

Tara

Goodbye, Apprentice

I expected my feelings to be different from what they are. I walked away today, and had the feeling as though I was walking away from life as I knew it...I had, and still have, this feeling of unknown and excitement...apprehension...uneasiness...nervousness...gratefulness, and yet more unknown, inside my heart and inside my mind. I began my apprenticeship journey the same way I suppose- tangled inside all of those emotions and not knowing what I was getting myself into and what the future held. For the past two and half years I have been emerged inside two worlds- midwifery and obstetrics- straddling them, juggling them, and taking from each whatever experience and knowledge I could, and trying to put together the pieces to make up a better whole within me. I have seen birth by candlelight, silent except for the soft breath of the laboring woman, and the sight of her reaching down- unscathed, untouched, unbothered and uninterrupted, to birth and catch her baby with her own hands- as well as highly-intervened birth ending in cesarean section. I have seen shoulder dystocias, hemorrhages, and neonatal resuscitations, as well as calm and normalcy, peace and beauty. I have caught first babies and I have caught 10th babies. There was nothing lacking.


I should be happy and relieved that my apprenticeship is over. I look back at the past 2 and a half years and most of it is a blur. With the experience and gained knowledge came huge personal and family sacrifices. But for some reason I am not feeling happiness, nor relief. I'm standing here looking back at a time that was monumental for me, seeing that the door has gradually been closing and the dynamics shifting. I am wondering what comes next...and how and why and when. The flavor of change seems to be bittersweet. Sadness for the termination of what once was, and excitement of what is coming.

I am so, so grateful for the midwife who gave me a chance. She didn't have to, and I have always known that and respected that. I've learned through the eyes of my own training and the training of others that to have an apprentice is no easy feat. With it comes self-limitation, self-sacrifice, and the burden of the weight of true patience. I am grateful for the patience and the service and the dedication that each midwife has given in passing on their knowledge and experiences to me.

And to my husband- the epitome of what an Obstetrician should be- Thank you...for being you, for sharing your knowledge with me, for learning along with me, and for allowing me to share my knowledge with you and actually valuing it and applying it within your own practice and how you care for women and birth. We have so much to learn and share with each other...and so much to give to the world. We are truly Integrated.

The NARM exam awaits me in 6 days. Here's to the future.

Holy Births and Howling Babies

As a mom labored down the hall tonight, I quietly opened up Varney’s Midwifery. For the first time ever, I noticed the poem that discreetly lies at the very beginning of the text. It resonated with me. So very much.

Holy Births and Howling Babies

In my backyard there are nuns who live in a shaded brick building
next to the St. Stanislaus church and elementary school.

Together we rise before the sun is in the sky.
Behind the kitchen curtain, in the damp haze of morning,
I watch them walk in shades of blue robe.
They glide in white sneakers across the parking lot.
They are cool, calm, brisk.

Some day, I’ll go see them
I’ll ask for some lesson on prayer.
Because the thing is…I pray now.
Not Dear God Almighty!
Just low, easy, quiet thoughts.

I pray when my patience is worn.
When my shoulders ache.
When my own voice becomes tiring to my ears.

I pray when my heart sits heavy with stories and faces of women.
A prayer for the 32 week babe.
A prayer for the lady with the skinny, squawking twins.
A prayer for the woman without a mother, or a lover, or a friend.
I pray when my cold hands run across a pregnant belly
and I feel a kick from inside.

I pray for all my babies, Be good to your mama.
I pray for all my mothers, Be strong, be good to this baby.
I pray secretly and I pray slowly.

I pray for us, the midwives and almost-midwives.
I pray that we make the right decisions.
And I pray for those of us who make bad decisions.
Decisions we regret with outcomes we can’t change.

I pray that we learn from our mistakes.
That with age comes wisdom.
I pray deeply and I pray completely.
For all of the hands and all of the bellies.
I pray for holy births and howling babies.

By Dana Quealy, CNM, MSN

Professional Juggler

I recently watched the movie, “I Don't Know How She Does It.” I sat there and, through the emotional tugs at my heart from sadness and sentiment and blended in laughs, with my tears and laughter I nodded my head in pure understanding. Not only could I relate to Kate- the professional mother and her struggles and antics that this movie revolved around, but I WAS, AM, this character. Professional mother? Mother of profession? I am certainly not either, but every day I strive to balance it all- some days I succeed in my balance, and some days fall nothing short of epic failures. Kate is a motivated, self-driven, sexy vixen of a professional woman. In one of the best scenes, she sits in front of a business big wig, trying to close a huge business deal, and while at a glance she appears to be well put together and the epitome of a professional, every time her business counterpart looks away, she is frantically scratching her severely tossled mane of hair due to an aggressive infestation of head lice that she gotten from her preschooler. He looks up. She immediately stops scratching and gives a smile and a seemingly attentive nod of understanding. He glances back down to his documents. She scratches with fury for relief. Wow…That sucks…That’s hilarious…That’s totally so many modern-day women, yet it doesn’t get talked about like it should. 

Yesterday, running ever so slightly behind schedule (something I cannot honestly say is not my norm), I walk into Ethan’s classroom to drop him off. As we are saying goodbye, one of his classmates- a teeny petite little red-head girl, comes up to me, says, “Hi Ethan’s mom,” and wraps her arms around my leg, burying her face into my leg to give me a big squeeze. I smile and then hurriedly rush off. Minutes later, as I walk into work, Adria in her infant carrier slung on one arm and my iPad and iPhone in the other hand, I happen to glance down and notice a green, quarter-sized glob of snot on my brand new, gray dress pants. I flash back to that cute little ginger, burying her face into my leg to give me love, and I cringe knowing that some kid’s snot is dangling from my pants. Bleh. Gag. Yucky, Honey. And so, not wanting to walk into the office with such bedazzlement, not having any tissue or extra hands to properly clean myself up, I bend down and flick the ginormous gooey booger onto the ground. Mental note to self: go wash hands. I walk to the sink, wash my hands and scurry about my day. Fast forward through the day: paperwork, phone calls, client/patient appointments, midwifery schoolwork, picking kids up from school, and being the ultimate ring master- I am, once again, running late for a very important dinner meeting. I’m driving, attempting to put on my lip gloss, and I’m wondering to myself, “What the HELL is that smell? I seriously have the permanent smell of baby crap on me.” I park, check my teeth in the mirror, adjust my boobs, and jump out of the car, all but running into the restaurant. As I’m approaching the door I look down to my pants and see that while I did indeed get the glob of booger from earlier, I seemed to have missed cleaning up the trailing snot smear that was left behind. Crap. Dammit. I lick my fingers to get them wet and try to rub it off as I walk through the door. I get a waft of air and simultaneously think to myself again, “What IS that smell?!!” I look down into my Louis Vuitton and see the answer. A dirty cloth diaper that I tied in a grocery bag and stuck in my purse the previous day. Oh nice. I am on a roll. I am a sensuous, aromatic wave of Flora by Gucci a la baby crap. But I don’t skip a beat. I smile and introduce myself to the OB recruiter we are dining with. As I shake his hand I contemplate vocalizing the words in my head, “Oh hello, nice to meet you. Don’t mind the breastmilk on my shirt, the mucous on my dress pants, and the aroma of baby poop that I brought in with me. It’s just the dirty diaper I’m carrying around in my purse. No worries. This is normal. All normal. I promise.” 

 My point? I’m honestly not sure. Maybe just to tell all you women- stay at home or working- that perhaps “I Don't Know How She Does It” is right…

…are we just women? Just mothers? Midwives? Teachers? Students? Whatever titles or roles you may hold. No, perhaps the description most fitting is ‘Juggler.’ I am a juggler. Not the most skilled, and certainly not perfect, but I do try. And, if anything, it is usually quite entertaining.