My Mother was the First one to Touch my Baby
Thursday 11 October 2001 I fell pregnant when I was 20 after returning from a hitchhiking session through Europe with my younger sister, Kate. I came back home to pack up and move to Ireland to study drama but when I realised the constant nausea was morning sickness, I made plans to move to a nearby farm community. I wanted my child to be born into the world in a natural setting. I had grown up on a farm North West of Ceres and my mother while not trained to, had fallen into the role of being the farm labourers’ midwife. When I was expecting my first baby, I saw no reason why my mother should not be the person to support and assist me. I wrote the following two years later when I was expecting my second child. * I woke up with a desperate urge to shit at about one in the morning. I went to the toilet, came back to bed again and lay down again. I tried to sleep. Again, I wanted to poo, so again I went to the toilet, relieved myself and came back to bed. I tried to snuggle up to Nolan but my boep* was in the way, so I turned around and tried to sleep. Again, I needed to poo, so off I went, but this time only dribbles of shit came out. My abdomen cramped. I went back to bed. The cramps kept on coming. Building up…building up…building up…ebbing away…ebbing away…ebbing away… I sat up. I put on the bedside light. I sat and felt the pains come and go…not sure. Scared to wake Nolan up. Eventually I did. He sat up immediately… I phoned my mother. She was at a friend’s house. She told me to time the contractions. If they were less than a minute apart, she said, I would have to go into hospital because she wouldn’t able to get to me on time. My mother was going to go and fetch my sister Kate and then would be on her way. I timed the contractions. 1 minute and 35 seconds apart. 1 minute and 20 seconds apart. 1 minute and 40 seconds apart. They felt fast and hard. I panicked. I didn’t want to go into hospital. I was set on a home birth. The night before I had read (funnily enough) that to relax and slow down labour, a warm bath would help. Nolan ran a bath while I tried desperately to breathe through the rushes of pain. Breathing was impossible and painful, unbearable. Easier to grit my teeth, not breathe and bear it. Once in the bath, great relief flooded my body. I relaxed in the pink hue of the candlelight. I could begin to breathe with the pain. I phoned my best friend Nikki (who was studying in Jo´burg) from the bath. Nikki phoned me back from her dad’s cell phone. So good to speak to her, wished she was there, so far away. Nolan had been instructed by my mother to line the bed with black bags. To get all our towels and sheets together. To put a pot of water, with a pair of scissors and a string in it, on to boil I ate a paw-paw in the bath. After an hour in the bath, I got out, wrapped in a white towelling bathrobe. The starkness of the light in the kitchen brought on the pain tenfold. It slammed into me. At that moment, my mother arrived in a rented car. I hung on her. Hello Mom. Back in the...
Read MoreThe Fetus Ejection Reflex
One cannot help an involuntary process, the point is not to disturb it… If the labouring mother has had her basic needs met during the first stages of her labour, her body will prepare itself for something called the Fetus Ejection Reflex. What are the basic needs of a woman in labour? To feel safe To leave the thinking brain (the neo-cortex) switched off Silence Darkness or low lights Warmth Not feeling observed No adrenaline It is very important that the labouring mother has utmost privacy during this time, otherwise the fetus ejection reflex will not take place. How does it occur? When a fetus ejection reflex is about to take place, the mother will suddenly become fearful and will say things like: “I want to die!” or “Kill me!” It would be a mistake at this point to try to soothe or placate the mother with reassuring words. Soon after this there will be some very strong contractions. The labouring mother will suddenly be full of energy and she will want to be upright. The baby will be expelled in a few strong contractions. The Fetus Ejection Reflex is different from what we know as the second stage of labour, which is when the mother has to actively push the baby out. When a true fetus ejection reflex takes place, the likelihood of the mother tearing is very low and the placenta should only take a few minutes to separate. A fetus ejection reflex cannot take place if the basic needs of a woman in labour have not been met. Read more on the Fetus Ejection Reflex...
Read MoreThe Knitting Midwife
A midwife sits in a dark room. She has a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. A candle flickers on the table. She is knitting. From another room, you hear the soft moan of a woman. The midwife continues knitting. The woman in the other room becomes silent again. The midwife continues knitting. After a few minutes, you hear the moan from the other room again and the midwife smiles to herself while she continues to knit. Some time goes by and the midwife gets up and leaves the room. She goes to the kitchen. You hear her switch on the kettle. The labouring woman continues to moan and groan – the pains seem to be intensifying. The midwife comes back with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. She dips her biscuits and sips her tea. The labouring woman continues to moan softly in the next room. The midwife is sitting on a rocking chair and now she rocks herself quietly while the woman in labour continues with her noises. The midwife falls asleep. The midwife sleeps for a while… the mother’s noises intensify. The mother begins to shriek. She feels that the pain is too much. She is afraid that she is going to die. The midwife opens her eyes and quietly listens. She slowly gets up (her bones creak a little) and she shuffles out of the room towards the sounds of the labouring woman. Quietly, like a cat, the midwife slips into the room where the mother is. The mother is grunting and screaming and the baby is born. The baby is crying. The midwife comes out of the room. The mother is cooing to her baby. The midwife shuffles back to her chair, sits down, smiles softly to herself and continues to...
Read MoreSai Girl
This is story of my daughter Sai Ngiah’s birth eleven years ago on Tuesday 21 September 2004…she is my second child and my first daughter and she decided to emerge face to pubis, nine days after her ‘due date’ on Spring Equinox. I woke up at 12. Midnight. With pains. Ever increasing pains. And so woke Derek up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “ Are you sure?” he asked. “ Yes! It’s really sore this time!” He had reason to ask. For the last three weeks I had been having pangs of pre-labour. I had phoned the midwife (Karen) and my mother countless times. I decided to sit and wait a bit. Just to make sure. I didn’t really want to be caught crying wolf again… This baby’s gotta come out at some stage…it’s nine days overdue. The pains increased. I tried to lie down and rest but couldn’t. Instead, I wriggled around trying to breathe into the pain. I finally decided to phone Karen at two. She came around. “ These pains look more intense,” she smiled reassuringly. Karen checked how dilated I was, “ Three cm dilated ,” she said, pulling off her rubber glove. “ If I may, just give one piece of advice, don’t hold back with each contraction. Let go into it, you’ll find it goes much easier…” Karen smiled (her smile so reassuring), “you’re doing fine, I’ll come back later, phone me when you need me.” I phoned my mother. My mother asked, “are you sure?” I rolled my eyes and reassured her that yes, this time I was definitely in labour. Derek and I went downstairs (we didn’t want to wake San) and made a fire. The pains were increasing. I began to moan softly to myself. I breathed deeply and moved with each one. This labour felt so different from my first. I didn’t feel frightened. I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t feel bewildered. I didn’t feel freaked out by the pain. I allowed myself to go with each pain. I allowed each pain to take over my body. I rode it. And within that I felt unbelievably strong and powerful. The pains began to increase. Derek phoned Karen. My mother wasn’t there yet. Where was she? I phoned her. Between contractions. Just to check where she was. She answered her phone. Mumbling. Still fast asleep. “ Mom! It’s happening! Where the fuck are you?” “I’m still in Prince Alfred Hamlet,” she mumbled, “ I thought it was another false alarm when you phoned earlier, so I went back to sleep.” “Well, it’s happening and I need you to be here to look after San, so get moving!” I switched the phone off. I was livid. My mother! Karen arrived at about five. My mother soon after. My mother sat and watched me. Karen made tea. I squirmed and writhed on the floor. Derek held me. Breathed with me. Rubbed me. Spoke soothing reassuring words to me. I squirmed and writhed in pain. On the floor. On the mat. In front of the blazing fire. The pain increased. I began to do push-ups. I felt strong, so powerful. I grunted and moaned. My mother sat. On the red velvety piano stool. Her hands clutched between her thighs. Watching me. I wonder what she thinks and feels watching her daughter go through this? I sat. Kneeling with knees apart. Breathing softly. No pain. Relaxing. The pain starting again. It began to build up. Coursing through me. As the pain reached its crescendo, I jerked forward and arched my back. And roared....
Read MoreIn This Moment I can Only Love you.
In this moment I can only love you. I can only be there for you. Open my heart. And just be. Open. Empty. You grip my hand, tightly, your nails digging into my flesh. You are on your knees, on the floor. Your body bearing down. All concepts and ideas of how to birth are gone and all you can do is just be with your body. Allow your body to just take over. I am here. And yet I am not. I try to disappear because the space you are taking up is huge. Massive. The universe groans as it makes space for you to birth this baby. It does feel as though time suspends itself. It really does. Nothing else can exist in this moment. I have to become nothing. Empty. Open hearted. Here. and nowhere else. For you. You are incredible. Amazing. Did you know that you were capable of this? I am in awe. In this moment. I can only love...
Read MoreAnamboya means ‘midwife’ in Shona
I have heard about this Zimbabwean midwife in the informal settlement of Masiphumelele for about a year now. I have heard that she is a traditional midwife and that many women in the Zimbabwean community in Cape Town seek her out during their pregnancies for their births. I have also heard that she has expert fingers that can detect when a baby is lying breech and that those same nimble fingers can also turn the baby so that it can be born head first. Grace, who is also from Zimbabwe, and who lives on Red Hill, first told me about this midwife and Grace was the one who arranged for me to meet the midwife. On Sunday morning, I drove up to Red Hill and fetched Grace. Grace would take me to see the midwife and also act as interpreter, since the midwife spoke very little English. Grace’s sister Alice, and Grace sister-in-law Privilege, with her 18 months old daughter, also called Grace, tagged along – they also wanted to consult the midwife. It was a beautiful day and as we drove through the labyrinth of shacks and RDP houses in Masiphumelele, people walked about, many in their Sunday best, clutching Bibles. The midwife, Clara, came and met us along the way, she got into my car and directed us the rest of the way – she did not want us to get lost. I was surprised at how young she was. I was told to park my car on a pavement and then we were guided down a sandy corridor between shacks to a small one roomed shack where another woman met us. This was Clara’s sister in law, Masiiwa, and it seems, that they are two midwives, who live and work together. The shack was small and simple, made of wood and sheets of metal. The walls were lined with cardboards and large pieces of paper. It was fitted with only a single bed, a television, and some some simple kitchen equipment. There was very little floor space and most things seemed to be stored under the bed or at the foot of the bed or hung behind the door or on the walls. Water was stored in empty oil buckets.We crowded into the tiny shack and I was given the best seat in the house – an upturned crate with a cushion on it. The women who had come along all had readily agreed for me to sit in with their consultations and were happy for me to ask questions, write this blog and take some photos. It seems the midwives did not only work with pregnancy and birth but were known as general healers for women and children, so many came for their advice and wisdom. We were lucky that it was not so busy that day, sometimes there was a queue of people standing outside to see them. Adult Grace had a check up first. She had skipped a period and wanted to know if anything was amiss. Clara asked her to lie down and Grace’s belly was massaged and palpated with cooking oil. This took some time but eventually Grace was told that all was well and she need not worry. Next was little Grace’s turn. She had been constipated and had developed a terrible fever and cough. She had not been eating properly for days and had lost weight. Her worried parents had rushed her to False Bay Hospital on Friday night, they live on Red Hill and have no transport themselves, and they had to pay someone to take them. They had been given some...
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