My Passion, My Calling.

I've known for years that I am supposed to work in the childbirth field. Pregnancy and birth has fascinated me from a young age, and I had extremely limited resources to satiate my knowledge. I was adopted as an infant, and my (adoptive) mother never experienced a pregnancy. All of my questions were met with short answers, often with "I don't know". The human body was considered a taboo subject in our extremely conservative household, and my access to information was incredibly restrained.

When I got married and became pregnant with our first born, I started researching. I must have read a thousand books, web pages, and medical journals. I joined every pregnancy and parenting forum available. I downloaded all the apps, I went to all the classes. I absorbed every bit of information that I could. For a first time mom, I knew quite a bit, and that knowledge only further lit my passion for pregnancy and birth.

During my years as a parent, I have studied more, and learned more. I have grown as a parent and as a person. And my desire to guide, assist, and educate others has only grown. But all journeys come with struggle, and 8 months ago, I reached a massive hurdle in my pursuit of birth work.

I had an emergency cesarean.

That surgery saved both my daughter and myself from death, but it was the most terrifying, traumatic experience I have ever had. I had planned a peaceful home water birth, with a photographer and family and friends. It was going to be a beautiful celebration to welcome our sweet miracle baby earth side. Instead, I woke up a few nights past my due date in a pool of blood, with more and more running out and down my legs. In an instant I was scrambling to head to the hospital, all my plans and dreams for the perfect birth shattered. What happened at the hospital saved our lives, but it destroyed my faith in my body. I felt my passion and drive leaving my body. Everything I had been working towards for all those years tasted like ashes in my mouth. How could I continue to pursue my dreams when my own experience was a failure? How could I move past this?

Thankfully, supportive family, good friends, time, and therapy all helped me to climb over the massive roadblock in my path. It hurt for a while, but soon enough I was back on the path to following my dreams. Now, there is no pain associated with the birth of my sweet little bird. There is no more anxiety, I no longer have the nightmares. I can freely say it was one of the worst days of my life, but I no longer feel like it's holding me back.

I am free.

I am alive, my children are alive, we are all healthy and full of love. My body is not broken, my experience makes me stronger. I am free and able to pursue my calling, my true passion.

The first birth after my c-section, I was nervous. Would I now hold resentment towards women who achieved their dream births? I didn't think so, but emotions and hormones can be funny things. That first birth, as the baby emerged from the warmth of his mother's womb into the brightness of day, I cried. I cried because the miracle of life is so overwhelmingly beautiful, and I have the incredible privilege of watching babies and mothers be born. I have the honor of being invited into the sacred space that is the birth room. I have the ultimate joy of watching new life begin, to see those first breaths, to be one of the first things a brand new pair of eyes sees. In that moment, as that brand new baby boy sang out that he had arrived, I knew that my calling, and my destiny, was and is birth. It's what I am meant to do.

So for the rest of my life, I will pursue my passion. I will be fearless in the face of adversity, I will never doubt my calling again. All types of birth are valid, and every woman deserves to have a beautiful birth experience of her choosing. I'm here to help make that happen, and I hope that someday, I will get another chance to birth without fear.