Saturday, October 15, 2011
Although I learnt the basics of midwifery in the classroom and wards of the Royal Women's Hospital, I consolidated my learning, and became convinced of my identity as a mother-midwife during the months and years of pregnancy, giving birth, breastfeeding, and nurturing my four children.
This precious picture shows our two girls, happily breastfeeding their dollies. The year was 1977, when their brother was a baby.
Further down the page is a pic taken this week, of Bec with her baby James at her breast, in that blissful milky dream-state.
This past week has been a very special one for our family, as we have experienced the inevitable separation that comes with death of a loved one. Yesterday my husband's mother, Lily Johnston, was buried, surrounded by her loving family. Grandma had her 99th birthday earlier this year.
The ability of a particular woman in bearing and nurturing a child is not a fixed or definable matter. The 'power-passage-passenger-psyche' equation is tested as the mystery of labour proceeds. A woman who is able to continue and make good progress does not need to consider other options. 'Plan A' is, for her, the only plan to be considered.
A woman whose progress is slow, or who is unable to accept the pain she experiences, or whose baby's heart sounds tell us that he is not receiving enough blood during the contractions - this woman is confronted with complex and often challenging choices and decisions: 'Plan B'.
Being mother-midwife often takes me into realms of uncertainty.
Posted by Joy Johnston at 5:10 p.m.