March 20, 2024
Hello Dear Friend,
Today was my final postpartum appointment for our sixth baby. Kind of the final celebratory “just checking in to make sure everything is still good” with baby and momma, and closing out this pregnancy together. Can I share some thoughts I jotted down on my phone “notes” app with you?
This occasion is definitely bittersweet. I remember the very first appointment welling up in hot tears seeing the midwife Doran’s sign “be still and know” in the appointment room. This was the message given to me over and over when going through the all- encompassing grief of losing our son just months before. My whole person was grappling with him missing and confused that there was a new baby now without him here.
Those many first appointments I was pretty guarded, not the chipper ecstatic new momma I automatically felt was expected of me. Or maybe what I expected of myself? The midwives made space for me in all this, welcomed me and my baby right where we were at.
Starting with the beauty of the birth cottage, filled with cozy textures, home-like rooms, feminine art and soft seasonal touches, a place was made for us to be and become. A stark stark difference from the sterile, fluorescent light-filled OB clinics I had spent plenty of time in. I am definitely not saying a more medical model of care is a bad choice, as it can be necessary for some, but I am just commenting on a real difference of attention to the human person that does matter. I’ve experienced this difference mattering in managing anxieties, creating safety and cultivating peace that is paramount for a healthy pregnancy and birth. Crunchy paper exam tables, being rushed in and out, matter-of-fact conversations are different than a plush bed, generous hour-long appointment slots, and a culture of sensitive celebration. I am profoundly grateful to have been given the gift of the latter.
Midwives make a place for the “how are you, in all the ways.” In a profoundly personal process, the raw feelings can surface. I can relax more, look deeper within, know there won’t just be a focus on whether my urine has protein in it or how many pounds I have gained. These midwifery prenatal appointments aren’t a replacement for therapy, of course, but a caring sister or mother quietly nodding and listening is absolutely a balm for the often-weary soul of a pregnant mother.
Although this sixth one seemed like a very long pregnancy, the time also flew by, so funny how that is. Mirroring the serene country drives to the midwifery cottage that took me through all the seasons, it was a winding journey of sorrow and relearning trust. Watching summer turn to autumn and settle into winter toward spring, He gave me renewed hope. It took me months to integrate the reality of new life inside me. I see now I needed these drives, the regular (mandatory) appointment on the calendar, to have the space to hear some simple yet big truths: “Hey dear self, you’re pregnant!” “Hello! This ride is a reminder you’re growing a baby! You really are!” “Hi, sweet soul, I know you’re in so much pain, but we can receive joy too, sorrow and gladness can hold hands.” I needed the empty van, the time for worship songs played loud and in solitude. My heart steadily healed and my soul was strengthened over the months, through those tears of grief and cries of surrender.
Besides the solo drives, I’m also aware of how much I needed those midwives, their persons, to receive me, and to offer the accompaniment that midwifery care is designed to give.
Midwives in my experience are much more than medical personnel who pop on gloves and catch your baby. The main midwife this time was there for this baby as well as our fourth. A wonderful midwife in Minnesota walked with me through my tumultuous second and third pregnancies. The midwife for my first essentially jumped in last second but took charge like a confident mother hen. Relationship matters, and they are truly sisters and mothers, holding your hand and heart through it all. Affirming your personhood, communicating you are capable. I’ll never forget at the end of one of my births, in a moment of panic asking, “get her out!!!” My midwife looked me gently in the eye and said with a calm strength, “I don’t get out babies, you birth your baby.” What a message for a vulnerable mother, to be told with loving confidence, “you can do this.”
A side thought– I love that though I’m not coddled at this point as a rookie, I’m also not dismissed as a know-it-all. Midwives provide reminders that two years of time since the last pregnancy can erase from your conscious thought. The simple, “hey, remember you need enough protein… and are you staying hydrated?” and “remember last time how bad the after pains were? Let’s make a plan for this time around.”
After this final appointment, I feel so grateful for the care and am noticing I’m somewhat sad that my monthly “retreat” out alone, bonding time with baby, “just me” care time built in, in a space curated so lovingly for a woman’s heart… is coming to another end. It’s almost as if we pregnant mothers are in the womb of midwifery for our own gestation. But alas, birth always always comes!
I’m asking aloud how this kind of womanly support can be continued after life takes off full speed again? For the technical postpartum period, yes, but also as the months and years continue in motherhood? I’m convinced now that this ongoing check in, the reminders that I’m a person with my own needs, the recognition that I’m doing hard hard hard work as a wife and mother, affirmation that it’s normal to always have big things to process…it’s all crucial to my wellbeing. It’s so very good that my family looks to me for nurturing, but how can I be nurtured in an ongoing way?. How can I keep up this important practice? How can I offer it to other mothers?
More musings on the “how”… every so many weeks postpartum? A ritual? An intentional sharing? A special drink and a snack to celebrate random milestones? A morning just reserved for self care and checking in and processing and girly beauty? How can we seek to continue uplifting and supporting the mother with little meaningful cares like “Do you need a tissue? A protein snack? A bottle of water? A soft, lovely smelling place to sink into and nurse your baby?” A periodic “you are seen – you look great! You are beautiful! Nice color on you! Love that lip color!” “How are things– the good and the hard?” The “well you’re not alone and there are women who care and are here for you.” And the ever winner, “what do you need now?”
This is the sort of thing my heart wants to provide through the place she made. Learning together how to create space for the other, and to welcome them in with warmth and love.
I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for being here as always.
Love,
Serra Ann
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