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Home Sweet Homebirth (Video)

Midwives have existed since the beginning of humanity. Why, then, is it so difficult to find a midwife in America?  What events occured between the mid 1800's until the present day which nearly made midwifery extinct in America? And why are more families now looking into homebirth as a refuge from hospital care?
Home Sweet Homebirth provides the answers. Interviews with noted doctors, historians and midwives. Very interesting and informative video.

  Homebirth Grandmother
 by Beverley Viljakainen         

How  bizarre that I had to be 61 before I experienced my first home birth!    Had it not been for my son and daughter-in-law's decision to have their third child at home, I might never have participated in this  Celebration of Life.    

I  offered to take care of the children, almost five and two-and-a-half.  When the first signs of labour began late in the evening, my son called to ask if I preferred to come for the night or to be called later. I  hastily left my bed and drove the twenty-minutes between our rural homes.  Was I up to whatever the night would bring?   

The parents were timing contractions and I left them to it, once again readying myself for sleep. Never have I been so grateful for and dependent on my long-time practice of yoga!

Before long, the sounds of the midwives' vehicles roared down the laneway shattering the night silence.  As the outside lights lit up the pre-dawn darkness of my room, I was
overcome with the strength of my emotions:  the fervent hope  my daughter-in-law would remain strong and well, gratitude, and an abiding confidence that the Innate Intelligence
within us was flowing as best it could and would serve us well.  I was ready!

Peaking into the softly-lit bedroom I sent my daughter-in-law a silent message:   "Let's do it, girl!  One more time!  For humanity.  For God."  The courage of woman was reflected,
at that moment, in my belle fille, the ever-so-elegant French expression for 'daughter-in-law'.

I settled myself  for what I expected would be "the duration" but my son called for me to bring the children.  As I stood between their beds in the next room, I said to myself, 
"Yeah, sure!  They're sound asleep."  Tentatively, I said to their sleeping forms, "The baby is coming."  Before I finished the sentence, my granddaughter's feet hit the floor and she
was gone.  Her roly-poly younger brother  made it to his hands and knees before I picked him up and shot out after her.  The midwife swears their little sister paused to wait for us before completing the last thrust of her journey. As we marvelled at the newly-arrived, perfectly formed wee being,  she turned her head towards the children's voices, voices she
had heard from the womb for many months.  Gazing intently in their direction, it was as though she wanted to see who had been speaking to her all this time. 

Before the cord was cut, my son, a chiropractor, checked the infant's spine, wanting the communication between her brain and body to be as free-flowing as possible before the umbilical connection to her mother was severed and her nervous system began to function on its own.  The necessary minor spinal adjustment made, we watched as her newborn gray colour became a rosy pink right before our eyes, the life force turned on full throttle.   My elder granddaughter was asked if she would like to cut the cord and, without hesitation, she held out her hand for the scissors, listened carefully to the instructions, and did the deed.  My young grandson beamed on, full of the wonder of   "New baby out mommy's tummy!" 

The placenta was examined carefully by midwife and father, then taken to its previously prepared burial place in the orchard.  A new  fruit tree has since been planted above it
and we continue to marvel at the magnificent harvest that yet another autumn has delivered to us and to the world.

     Beverley Viljakainen  lives near Priceville, Ontario.        

 

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