Vincent - Baby catcher : chronicles of a modern midwife

Contents

Baby Catcher is dedicated to all the midwives everywhere.

Acknowledgments

During my fifteen years as a midwife, many babies timed their arrivals to coincide with the night of our familys annual Christmas party, my childrens birthdays, school pageants, family gatherings, and the hours between midnight and four A.M. Every midwife should be blessed with a partner like Rog, my husband of thirty-six years. He unfailingly appeared at my side, ready to carry my equipment to my VW bug as I headed out for yet another inconvenient birth. With patience and versatility, he filled in whenever I was absent, doing everything except fold laundry.

Eternal love and gratitude to our three children, Colin, Jill, and Skylar. They could have resented the little souls that took me away from them, but they never made me feel guilty, not even when I missed Christmas morning two years in a row.

But even before my husband and children, there were my parents, Mary and Bill MacRobert, who always believed I could do whatever I set out to do. They still do.

For years, many people urged me to write this book, but none were as persistently obnoxious as Sally Gambrill, my friend from college days. Nag, nag, nag. Like a puppy with a sock, she just wouldnt quit, promising to line edit for free if Id just write it. So I did, and she kept her promise, eventually reading these chapters so many times she knows them by heart. All she wants in return are California Meyer lemons, but even if I dedicate a whole tree to her, Ill still be in her debt.

A serendipitous chain of events resulted in my contract with Scribner. It all began with a class at Book Passage in Corte Madera that led to Dorothy Wall, a Berkeley writing consultant. She helped me hammer my book proposal into shape and then pointed me toward an agent, Felicia Eth. A week later, Felicia and I agreed to our partnership before wed even finished our latts.

Felicia smiled at my neophyte enthusiasm, patted my sweaty hand, and mailed my proposal off to several New York publishing houses. Two weeks later, I had a contract with Scribner, where Jane Rosenman nurtured me through the first edit. When Jane left to spend more time with her children, Jake Morrissey assumed the role of doula and helped me deliver Baby Catcher on its due date.

Thanks to San Francisco Chronicle columnist Adair Lara, my first writing teacher, for teaching me how to show, dont tell; for scrawling death to adverbs all over my first efforts; and for hooking me up with Marie, Lyssa, Bibby, and Holly, my first writing partners.

I would happily sit forever at the feet of Philip Lopate, who assured me Id be published and then added, Id be honored to write a blurb for your book.

I cant say enough about the nonfiction group of The Internet Writing Workshop. Ann Hutchins, Barbara Mullins, and many others provided invaluable critiques, but Im especially grateful for the relentless nit-picking of Dawn Goldsmith, who hacked at these chapters till her keyboard bled.

Humble thanks to Dr. Bill Stallone, who first backed my practice and seemed to enjoy swinging from the branches as much as I did. Jim Jackson, Joe Weick, and his partners Hank Streitfeld and Betsy Kanwit, and Lisa Keller followed. I know they faced resistance from their peers, and Im grateful for their faith in me and for their support of women who wanted home births.

Thanks to Carole Hagin, the gifted midwife who nurtured me through my first ten home births and allowed me to ride her coattails for a year before cutting me loose to dance on my own.

Heartfelt thanks to Sandi MacKenzie. She served not only as my first home birth assistant but also presided over the home birth of Skylar, my youngest child. In addition, she gave permission for me to share her caramel recipe (see ).

After Sandi left for midwifery school, Kathy Heilig, Margaret Love, and Bonnie Bruce assisted me. My thanks for their speedy response, enthusiasm, and skilled help at hundreds of home births.

Many thanks to the nurses at Alta Bates Hospital who welcomed my patients and gave them special attention. I especially thank Ann Beckes, Cherie Campbell, Cheryl Jacques, Cindy Speltz, Doris Burleson, Holly Wagner, Irene Terestman, JoAnne Koury, Lois Carelli, Lori Prescher, Lynn Polon, Maggie Halliday, Marion Johnson, Marybeth Abarbanel, Mijo Horwich, Rita LaBarge, Robin Calo, and Wencke Roed. Many of them honored me further by asking me to deliver their babies.

I appreciate the women who have attended my strength training class at the Oakland Hills Club. They laughed at my stories, advised me what to wear when I met my agent, and took me to lunch at Oaklands Garibaldis restaurant to celebrate the sale of Baby Catcher . The hamster Beanie Baby they gave me sits on my computer and is my muse.

Perhaps most of all, I thank the Berkeley couples who trusted me to deliver their babies. I see them all the time at places like Codys Books or Safeway. At Peets Coffee or the Cheese Board Im likely to spot someone with a six year old that I caught. While waiting at my sons orthodontists office, I recognized another mom, and she pointed out her teenager whom Id delivered.

Im profoundly thankful for my years as a baby catcher. Ive had a good run.

As it was in the beginning, is now,
and ever shall be, World without end.

G LORIA P ATRI

T HE D ECLARATION OF A BSOLUTION

B OOK OF C OMMON P RAYER , 1928 VERSION

You Have to Lie Down

S EPTEMBER 1962

D UKE U NIVERSITY , D URHAM , N ORTH CAROLINA

P lease lie down, I begged Zelda. Please.

Wearing nothing but a shiny coat of sweat, the young black woman stood upright on her hospital bed, stomping from the lumpy pillow to the foot rail and then back again. For the past fifteen minutes shed been running laps on top of her bed, towering four feet above me as I raced along the floor with my arms outstretched in the futile hope that I might catch her if she fell.

Its against the rules to do that, I whined, aware of how prissy and juvenile I sounded, but I was just a student nurse, and Id be in trouble if I couldnt control this crazy pregnant woman. I tried another line of reasoning. You might hurt yourself, not to mention your baby. Yeah, that sounded better. But she wasnt buying it.

Moaning, she sped to the head of the bed, tromped on the pillow with her callused feet, and grimaced as another labor pain began. Shaking her head from side to side, she banged on the wall with her thin hands. I watched the line of her vertebrae sway like beach grass in the wind while she dealt with the pain.

Lordy, lordy, sweet Jeeeesus, help me, Lord. Yes, Lord, stay with me and guiiiiide me. Mmm-hmm, yes, yes, sweet baaaaaby Jesus. Umm-hmmm... As the contraction wound down, she murmured, Thank you, thank you.

She was twenty-two, in labor with her third child, and so skinny I could see the tendons in her arms and the sharp angles of bones in her face. Even with her belly sticking out in front, her hipbones jutting beneath the brown skin were easily visible. I saw the babys knobby heels and elbows moving just below the surface of Zeldas taut abdomen. It was the only part of her that was big. It looked as though the child in her womb had drained all the nutrition out of her body and into its own, like sand in an hourglass moving from one chamber to another.

Short of tackling her, I didnt think I could convince her to lie down, so I pulled up the safety rail but saw the low barrier would contribute nothing toward preventing a fall. I lowered it, shaking my head in confusion and wondering what Mrs. Purdue, my instructor, might say. But then I figured rules are rules, especially when youre a student nurse, so I hauled it up again. I saw Zeldas half-smile as she watched me from the head of the bed. Blushing, I could just imagine what she was thinking: up, down, up, down, what is this crazy white girl gonna do next?