I'm already getting flack from my healthcare practitioners about having had a homebirth with Miles and of course, they want to know if I'm planning another one, which they strongly advise against.
I keep telling them (the practitioners' whose organization begins with K) the same thing: "I can't know now if a homebirth is what will feel most safe for this baby. Thank you for your professional opinion." And I try to respect the medical community's vast experience of birthing emergencies while trying to stay in a mindset of honoring my own intuition and listening to my body and what it needs to do it's job.
I was so fortunate to have a previous doctor who believed in me and in my intuitive vision for birthing my son at home. She took great care to monitor my low-lying placenta with a marginal previa to make sure that I would be safe to pursue labor at home. I respected her authority and would have scheduled a C-section if that is what she could have proven to me to be best. What a gift to be so cared for and feel so supported. But this birth is proving to be a bit different. I have the same sort of situation going with a thickened placenta that is also low-lying, but I have practioners who are vague and will not be honest with me about any impending danger to my child. I know it's a watch and wait game, but as a pregnant woman, I would feast on some real information that I could use to follow my own progress.
It's so frustrating to believe that my healthcare agency wants me to just be a good patient and not make any waves. It may be an unfair projection, but it feels as if some western providers have lost touch with the heroic feminine process of birth. Instead of helping a woman do her job, they seem to get in the way and try to take over the process. It isn't as if billions of women have been doing this for tens of thousands of years with grace and dignity....right?
(If this subject is of great interest to you, I suggest Ricki Lake's film, The Business of Being Born, all about the medicalization of birth.)
At 22 weeks and gestating, I'll be biting my nails for 18 more weeks (with luck!) to see how this little seaturtle plans to come into the world. In the interim, I'll wish for warm jelly, kind hands and strong heartbeats under the bright white lights...
