A Midwife Helped Me Out
By Sommer Souther
It’s true. Emily Joubert to be precise.
I had hoped it would be Emily. I had prayed for it to be Emily. She may not know me from Adam, but the kind words she spoke to me almost three years ago, when I was in the middle of breastfeeding hell with Eliot, changed my life and sealed the deal on where and who I wanted to deliver my next baby.
I was sitting in on yet another lactation consult at WBWC, meeting with Rebecca Costello for the first time, when I passed her a sheet of paper.
“I’m not good at speaking up for what I’m feeling or advocating for myself, so I wrote down how this past week has been for me.”
She read it quietly to herself and looked up at me with sincere compassion. The paper I had handed her had detailed all the times that week I had felt worthless, helpless, used up, lonely, afraid, and broken. The numerous times I had questioned whether I had made a mistake in trying to be a mother, because I surely was not one. All the times in the past 4 months that I had tried to look forward with optimism to anything in my life and was greeted instead with the abyss.
Rebecca reassured me, promised I was not alone, both in the community of other PPD/PPA sufferers as well as support people and groups who could help me through this. Then she went to get Emily, to see if there was anything else we could do, any last missing piece of the puzzle we could find on why breastfeeding was not working out for me.
Emily came in and talked through my issues with me, and asked me if we had family support for my breastfeeding.
“It can make a big difference on if you’re able to continue or not” she told me.
“No. They all think I should’ve given up a long time ago and switched to formula.”
“And what do you want to do?”
“I want to give him the most that I can. There have been a lot of dark moments in the past few months, but when there’s a good moment it’s good enough to make me want to keep trying.”
“Well if you were my daughter I would be proud of you. What you’ve been going through is really hard, and you’ve put in a lot of work to get where you are. You should be proud of that too.”
I nodded. I couldn’t speak. I was biting back tears. The validation I had been craving and couldn’t communicate for months was coming from someone I had just met. Someone I had known for only 10 minutes gave me a little bit of my identity back that day. I was someone who worked hard for things they are passionate about. She had also sent me home that day with hope for the first time in months. I knew it had to be Emily that day, even before I knew I wanted another baby.
Fast forward to last week, when my husband Josh called WBWC to ask them what we should do. I had been having very mild and infrequent contractions the whole day that would occasionally and briefly come more frequently and intensify.
“They said to take a warm bath and see what that does. They said the contractions would either space out or get stronger. I didn’t catch the midwife on call’s name.”
Josh filled up the tub with warm water and set out candles and snacks for me, because he is legitimately one of a kind.
I took a long bath while Josh put Eliot to bed, and got disappointed when my contractions completely fizzled out. I decided to tidy the kitchen at midnight out of frustration and boredom, and then went to bed for the night at 2am. I never got to sleep.
At 2:30am my contractions came back so intense and frequent that I thought I had to be imagining I was in labor out of desperation. I was clenching my fist into the mattress with each one coming at only 4-5 minutes apart. I debated about waking Josh, I didn’t want to drag him out of sleep for nothing. My internet history shows me asking Google “salmonella or labor?” At 3 am I couldn’t do it alone anymore and woke Josh up to call WBWC, back.
While he called the contractions shortened to 2 minutes apart and I was bending over the kitchen counter trying to make it through them.
“It’s Emily on call tonight, she asked if you felt like you wanted to come in and get checked out.”
I was relieved and hesitant. It was Emily, this could be it, my wish fulfilled. But then again, this could be salmonella and I could be wasting Emily’s time. Another contraction started and I told Josh “I think so.”
Josh went to my best friend’s apartment and pulled her out of sleep to come watch Eliot while we drove to the birth center. We made it to the center at 4am, and Emily and Tracy greeted us and set us up in the blue room with some lavender diffusing while they checked my vitals and progress.
“Do you want to know how dilated you are?” Emily asked.
I hesitated. This is forbidden knowledge when you’re in labor. Should I have her tell me and be delighted at how far along I am or risk being told that I’ve been fighting the devil for the past 90 minutes to have made barely any progress.
I take the risk.
“You’re 5cm dilated. You’re in the right place. Welcome.”
Relief. Brief because contractions are still coming closer together and building up to some sort of category 5 hurricane in my most vulnerable of places, but still, relief.
I’ll spare all the details for someone who really wants to hear them, but two hours after arriving at WBWC, Emily and Tracy helped me bring Everett onto my chest at 6:05am and I got the most amazing early Valentine’s gift anyone could ask for.
I didn’t get much time with Emily this round either, but she still made an impact. How can someone who helps bring your rainbow baby earth-side not be bonded to you for life? Emily also brought peace, reassurance and strength with her every time she came into the room, and those are invaluable assets for every laboring mother.
So I’m very thankful for my midwife. I’m thankful to Emily for helping me birth a baby, as well as helping me regain the strength to make it through another 2.5 years of breastfeeding Eliot. Because of her I have some of the most beautiful and tender moments I will ever experience in my life. You can’t ask someone for anymore than that.