Thank you to my Midwives

This is a copy of the thank you letter I wrote to my three midwives.

21 December 2006
Dear Michelle, Kathy, and Joe,

Over the last three weeks I have been trying to think of someway to thank you all- to show the depth of my appreciation. Words, which most days I can play and build easily with, have escaped my pages. This search has left me speechless but has shown me the enormity of my gratitude; has shown me that there simply are no words or actions to truly express my appreciation. My experience with you three could not have met my expectations more fully. From our ever so personal and caring prenatal visits to the challenging days surrounding December 2nd, you all could not have fulfilled the meaning of midwifery more fully. I imagine the moments searching for Ari’s heartbeat from your perspective, and I know this was a challenging time for each of you as well, both personally and professionally. Please know that Brian and I feel and are so proud to say that you all could not have done a better job. We fully feel that every action, every word, every touch was perfect. If I can separate the devastation of Ari’s death, labor for me was a beautiful experience, made more beautiful by the support provided by our midwives. Throughout pregnancy I was drawn to the mysticism and spirit of labor; so curious about this rites of passage; so curious about the true meaning of birth; so connected to the ancestral path of the world’s women. I feel that giving birth at home, with Brian, with women, three wise women, helped me fill my curiosity and discover the bright depths of birth. I am also so proud and honored to continue the heritage of childbirth through homebirth and midwifery, a common ground that spans human time and the human globe. The translation of the word midwife has been on my mind recently- with woman, wise woman, mother’s friend. You all, with or without certification, completely fulfill the meaning of midwife, and in my mind I see you joining the ranks, carrying the way, of all the wise women that have come before, helping woman bring life, helping women swing open the wide gates from maidenhood to motherhood.

I am so thankful to have you three be apart of my life and Arianna’s life. I thank whatever force, coincidence, or wind that brought our paths together. I thank you through and through my heart from now until forever.

Love,
Ava

Birthing Wall

This is a copy of the letter I sent to the women who helped create my Birthing Wall.

21 December 2006
Dear Road Gang Girls, Sisters, Mothers, and Elders,

I asked each of you to create a piece of birth art to be added to a birthing wall made of pictures, words, stories, quotes, and photographs that would help me remain calm, focused, and inspired during labor. My vision was to have a reminder of the powerful and magical energy that surrounds each of you to lift me up during the toughest parts of labor. When the midwives arrived at our house, and we all soon learned that our baby had died inside my womb, the toughest part of labor became something none of us had ever expected. The birthing wall took on a different role than planned- a role that has held me together during these early days of grief for the loss of our daughter, Arianna.

I assembled the birth wall on a wintery Wednesday afternoon when the house was quite and the air still. I pinned each image to an old sheet tacked to the wall across from our bed. Slowly the spaces were covered with pictures of flowers, poems from Rumi, prayers from the bible, drawings from artists, and single words of power and clarity. Throughout the days to follow, I would walk past the big colors and bold words of the wall, letting the images sink into my body. I would wake in the morning and gaze at of the passages, letting the words seep into my skin. At night I would invite the pictures into my dreams, all the while becoming ever more excited for labor to begin. And soon it did.

During a Friday evening dinner party contractions began with great welcome and anticipation. But our excitement plummeted deeply when we later learned that our baby would not be born alive. Labor continued, despite our devastation, and in the darkness of Saturday morning, I pushed on the floor at the foot of our bed under a great wall of strength that was created by each of you. Truth be told, I didn’t look once at the wall. My only focus was within my body. But as Brian caught Arianna, and the sun came up on a new day, the wall stood before me as I recovered in bed. Oddly, each picture and each word was perfectly fitting for the new circumstance. The words intended to guide me through a contraction- allowing, centering, accepting, surrendering- became words to guide me through grief. The beauty of the images gently reminded me that not all of life is perfectly cruel. The collective wall held me as I thought of the feminine strength that created it. I felt each of you there.

The wall remains nearly three weeks after the death of Arianna and stands steady at the times when I do not. The wall took on a magic and perhaps even an intellect of its own to help me when I needed it most. When I needed it most was not during the intensity of labor, for the primitive knowledge of my body took over. I didn’t need to reread the words or reexamine the pictures, for they and the power they contained, were already within me. What I thought would be the hardest pain turned out to be the easiest. When I did need the wall most was during the throws of unexpected, unexplained grief. I need the wall as time ticks by, leading me away, forcing me to move on. I need the wall as I renavigate my life. I need the wall to help me as I slowly regain my own strength and rediscover my own power. And for this I am thankful.

I love you all,
Ava

Letter to family

This is a copy of the letter I sent to my friends and family, telling them that I was pregnant.

10 May 2006
Dear Family,

I am writing you all to deliver some ‘you better sit down’ news. Good news- don’t worry. Brian and I are about three months pregnant; unplanned but welcomed! I apologize for the mass letter, but I thought it would be the best way to communicate my journey over the last month.

Brian and I went to the doctor on April 8th to take an official pregnancy test. With a smile and a handshake from the doctor, we found out the big news growing inside me, despite consistently taking birth control pills for three months. I felt happiness, confusion, shock, excitement, nervousness- although I did have some preparation for the moment, as hints from my body, dreams, and premonitions since I met Brian gave away the surprise. For the next several days, I was overwhelmed with logistics, questions, reading, daydreaming, planning. This consumed every minute of the day and night, all the while both Brian and I feeling sure we would continue through with the pregnancy.

Week two hit with some bad dreams, cold feet, second-guessing, challenging questions from loved ones, and intense confused tears. Brain and I very seriously considered having an abortion- so close that I researched my options and called doctors, while feeling unsure which direction to go. After many talks with my sister Liv, Mom, Brian, a pregnancy counselor, and myself, I was still completely at a loss as to what to do. Eventually, Brian and I decided not to talk about it to anyone for two days and then come to each other with our certain decision.

Luckily, on day two I had to go do some solo fieldwork for my job. I drove my company’s Chevy truck down Spring Gulch Road, dust clouding the views of the Teton Mountains and East Gros Ventre Butte. I found my project site and headed in to the spring-inspired cottonwood and spruce forest. Taking a break by the snowmelt filled stream, I sat on the ground and listened. Sat and listened, slowly and openly, outward and inward. All I could sense was humming, color, light, beauty, and creativity. The growth of spring was inside me and surrounding me, allowing me to feel connected, centered, rooted. The ongoing quest to drop my humanity and move in the same energy as the rest of the living world soon became momentarily real. Clarity followed in an unspoken, un-thought whitewash. The spinning mobile of thoughts fell apart and I was left to follow my heart.

To honor life and beauty, my spirit and spirituality, risk and adventure, integrity and faith, and those in my life who have died, we have decided to have this child. To do anything otherwise would deny all I hold central and principle in this life; would kill the part of my body where I feel sacred and connected. Of course, I am still nervous to enter this new chapter, but I am sure. I am excited for you all to be cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and great-grandparents! I do consider each of you to be my family, in the truest sense of the word and will cherish your love and support to come.

Be Well and I Love You!
Ava

Stillborn Labor

On the evening of December 2nd, 2006 labor began at a small dinner party. The conversation, laughter, and companionship helped open my body and allowed my contractions to get stronger. Around midnight, after about 4 hours of mellow contractions, my boyfriend and I decided it was time to go home. As we stepped outside and saw the snow storm, I knew tonight would be the night. With sleep clearly not an option, the contractions took over my attention and we soon called our midwives at about 1am. Over the next hour, we prepared the house, played rusted root, and called my sister and mom. Between contractions I hustled about, but during I leaned on the table, crouched on the couch, swayed in Brian's arms. The contractions became more intense, and I became more mellow. The lights dimmed, the music turned to classical, I layed in bed. I was ready. I was so deeply excited in every part of my self. I was to become a mother in only hours. My baby was to become her/his own person in only hours from now. My midwife, Michelle, and her 2 assistants arrived at the house around 2am. They set themselves up and soon took out the dopler to listened to the baby's heartbeat.

There was no heartbeat. Michelle tried and tried, searched and searched, but we heard nothing. I layed as still as I could through my contractions, hoping she could find something. I could hear Brian near my head beginning to sob as the time ticked by. I remained neutral. I felt nothing but my contractions. I was in an even plain of shock and disbelief. Michelle said in all her years of experience, she was never unable to locate the heartbeat. I tried to reposition myself, while Michelle talked to the others and phoned our backup doctor. We decided to go to the local hospital for an ultrasound to confirm what we already knew. After struggling through a cold snowy car ride, we arrived at the hospital to find out the ultrasound technitian was not on call. At this point I had 3 options: drive an hour in a snow storm to another hospital, continue labor at the local hospital, or go home and deliver our child. I struggled with the decision, not wanting to go through labor only to find my child lifeless. I wanted it done for me, to not feel a thing, I wanted drugs, I wanted to be shut off, despite my devotion to natural childbirth. I asked Michelle what she thought was happening- was there a chance? She said maybe but likely our baby had already passed. And then with one short sentence, reality came plowing over me. She said, "it looks like we are going to have to say good-bye before we were able to say hello." With those words and that truth, my tears, devistation, fear, and sorrow replaced the hope and joy I had for our baby's childhood and my own motherhood.