Nothing ceases to amaze me in midwifery. Maybe other professions
are this crazy and I just don’t know it because I am not pursuing them? I don’t
know. This birth story is about Marie. Yes, all names have been changed to
protect the innocent and the guilty. Marie had been late to care and
noncompliant the entire time. Her dates were off and she had no idea when this
baby was coming. Her other children had come postdates so it was not surprising
when her belly kept growing and she didn’t call. It was in these last few weeks
of her care that we had been trying to get her to come to her appointments and
she was avoiding us because she wanted a homebirth and was afraid that drawing
any attention to her growing belly would get her induced. All we wanted was to
chart a NST and BPP. These weren’t gonna happen. Plus, she was in the middle of
a heated custody battle with court dates set all around her questionable EDD–hardly
the climate to make a mother want to go into labor.
Luckily her children were with their father the night she
did call us. The baby daddy had rented a motel room across from her apartment
as he was not allowed on the premises due to his criminal record. This motel was not the kind with room service
or even a coffee maker. It had a shower and barely enough toilet paper to think
about going to the bathroom. The heavy stench of cigarettes permeated the walls,
floor, bed spread. An old television, not the flat screen kind, was on a table
next to the window unit air conditioner. I think you could rent these rooms by
the hour. Anyway, the dad was a sketchy character, shifty eyed and uncertain of
what this whole birth entailed. He wasn’t overly supported and spent most of
the evening outside smoking, thankfully.
We set the birth pool up; luckily it is a horse trough so it doesn’t require much. The mom was four cms when she got in the water. I stepped outside to eat my multigrain bagel with cream cheese and was flossing the sesame seeds out of my teeth when the midwife whipped open the door and shouted that she was pushing. Dad and I comically both ran toward the door at the same time, almost pushing the other one out of the way to get inside. We didn’t even get gloves on to catch this almost 11 pound baby. She was in the water for less than 20 minutes. The baby was gunky sounding, so we quickly cut the cord and I did what I call the c-sec pat on the baby. I turned baby on its side on the heating pad, with its face slightly lower than the rest of its body. I gave it firm pats to get that gunk out of the way. Mom got out of the tub quickly to deliver the placenta. We caught our breaths just in time for the other birth assistant to arrive and gain the attention of the motel management. We had apparently surpassed our allotted parking spaces. Luckily smoker dad intercepted the manager who was demanding that at least one car leave. The dad replied that the midwives will leave after the baby is born. Um. Wrong answer. Management gets angry and says she will call police if we don’t leave. Babies cannot be born on the property. It is about 15 minutes postpartum. Thankfully the universe had made me purchase a pump for the birth tub just days earlier. Otherwise we would have had to bucket brigade the water out of that birth pool. We quickly, faster than I think we have ever cleaned up a room, got everything out and into the cars before the manager came back.
The midwife, the fearless leader she is, decided that we would not let the manager know that we had the baby. She didn’t want the police called because this mother didn’t need that to complicate her custody battle. So, mom put on her best acting face and waddled out of the motel room huffing and puffing as if she was in heavy labor as the manager and housekeeper stood by watching. They asked if we needed an ambulance and we said no thanks we would drive quickly straight to the hospital right now. Really, we were heading right across the street to the mom’s apartment to do a newborn exam, well, really, do everything. I don’t even think we had time to do a round of vitals after the placenta and before we “transported.” Mom hopped into the front seat and her duffle bag was placed on her lap and didn’t make a peep.
My Journey as a Licensed Midwife in Louisiana 