There are days that drain you and days that fill you. The other day at work I had a fill day.
There was a woman who was thought to be in preterm labor. If the estimates were correct, she would deliver a baby that would most likely require a stay in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) for weeks. While the nurses and doctors prepared, I was in the unique and rare position of being able to give all my time to this patient. She was young and scared and very tired. This was her first baby and she really didn't tell anyone she was pregnant until just a few weeks ago.
I was a doula for about six years, so I jumped into that mode and helped her breathe, move and cope with her labor. She had not slept the night before. She kept her eyes closed most of the time. She kept saying she had no idea it would be this hard.
"None of us do," I told her.
As I helped her and felt her baby moving around and down lower and lower, the thoughts of a premature baby seemed further away. This baby seemed more like a near term, if not full term baby.
She labored harder and harder, moving and groaning, and then finally she said, "I CAN'T do this!" Music to my ears! When a woman is laboring naturally, and she says this, it is almost certain that she is in transition and is about to start pushing. I checked her and I could feel the baby's head low, and what I thought to be a ton of thick hair. I encouraged her. I told her soon she would hold her baby and see that thick head of hair.
She was so strong. As the team of nurses and doctors filed in the room for the delivery I was separated from her as I assumed my position at the infant warmer, but I could hear her grunts as she delivered her baby, which turned out to be over seven pounds and full term, with the thickest set of curls on top of his head.
After she and the baby were cleaned up from the delivery and all the staff had left the room, I leaned down close to her. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be sleeping. I lightly touched her shoulder and whispered, "You did it."
Without even opening her eyes, she smiled the biggest smile I'd ever seen. That one smile, from her very soul reached far into mine. I continued to tell her that she had just done the hardest thing ever and now she could feel confident in her ability to handle whatever life threw her. "You are strong, and now you know it."
I handed her the baby. With her eyes still closed, she pulled the baby's face to nuzzle into her neck and gentle held and rubbed the baby's hand. At that moment, they were beautiful beyond belief.
I may have helped her, but she helped me far more.
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