Nine months ago, I was moving into this house and winter storms followed. Snow fall keeps a midwife busy twice, once with shoveling, once with catching. Nine months ago, I was shoveling. Now, I am ready for those blizzard conceived babies to be born into my waiting hands.
MedScape Medical News: Troubling Gap in Hospitals' Obstetric Complication Rates This article is about the need for feedback to hospitals about their rates of OB complications compared to other hospitals. What I took away from this article from is absolute horror that US hospitals are doing so poorly. "At low-performing hospitals, 22.55% of patients delivering vaginally experienced ...
In 1999, my family and I moved to New York from Carbondale, Colorado. We moved here for my first job as a midwife. We moved here with my job contract, a lot of hope, and more than just a few prayers. We drove a U-Haul filled with all our belongings and a station wagon filled with our three kids. We drove across mountains, plains and the great Mississippi. Our finances were tight (our budget could handle an occasional treat at Friendly's, not gallons of organic milk). This move was a stretch for all of us, a leap of faith as a family to support my dream of being a midwife.
For my birthday, I gave myself the gift of quiescence.
Human existence is always a balance of activity and stillness. Literally from the beginning of our physical being, we must move and rest. From the moment that egg and sperm join, a dance begins, movement balanced with quiet. In that beginning, there is work and rest, activity and stillness. That stillness is quiescence.
As a midwife, I have known strong and determined women that by sheer will and determination made their bodies do impossible feats. But sometimes, the opposite happens: the body is so strong that the heart and mind simply have to bend.