Reflection for Church

I had to write this scripture reflection for church, and thought I'd share it here too.

“I will take away your stubborn heart and give you a new heart and a desire to be faithful. You will have only pure thoughts.” Ezekiel 36:26

I never thought of myself as a stubborn or hard-hearted person until I became a parent. Yet, in the middle of the night, I find myself not-so-sympathetic to a very fussy little teether. The minutes and then hours pass by and my patience wears thin. First, I think angry thoughts. Then, I say angry words. I push her aside and then stubbornly refuse to pick her up when she cries for me. I reflect on blissful nights of sleep before I was a parent, remembering how I didn’t have to answer to anyone. I blame her for destroying it all.

In the morning, I’m disappointed in myself, but I make excuses like “I’m just not one of those people who functions well on three hours of sleep” and “Must be those postpartum hormones still affecting me.” But I know it’s a lie. Unlike my daughter, I’m an adult perfectly capable of controlling my own words and actions. I wish I could claim this “monster-me” isn’t the real me, but when I am honest with myself, I realize that I am a sinner in need of a new heart, better faith, and much purer thoughts. Faith in God requires that I step back for a minute, leaving anger and stubbornness behind in order to recognize that the small challenges God gives me to cope with are nothing compared to the rich blessings in my life.

God, I believe that you will give me a new heart, if only I am willing to let you enter in. Give me the faith to call on you throughout the day and in the middle of the night. Let my thoughts be of you and in you. Amen.

Ann Ledbetter

The First Placenta of the New Year

Let's face it-if I'd been in it for the fame, fortune or favorable public opinion of me, I wouldn't have been a midwife. There are a ton of negative stereotypes that the word "midwife" conjures up. Explaining what I do to the average person isn't much fun, and the jokes get old too ("So, you deliver babies in barns?") Still, I try to remember what my favorite midwifery professor taught us in school: that we are ambassadors of our field and it's our job to help the public to understand what we do, and why there is a need for it. Sure, we could get defensive and angry every time someone misunderstands our field or asks a naive question, but wouldn't it be better to politely explain the role of midwives and how our training and skills can lead to a better birth experience?

With this in mind, I went to work on New Year's Eve hoping to catch the first baby of the new year. I imagined the headline: AREA MIDWIFE CATCHES FIRST BABY OF NEW YEAR. I imagined a touching article about a heroic midwife who gave up her New Year's Eve party with friends and that New Year's kiss from her husband to stay by a laboring woman's side through a difficult labor. With expert care and precision, she guided a new life into the world as the new year approached.

So the real scenario? I was home playing board games with family when my pager went off. It was the hospital, calling to say I had a patient in labor with her fourth baby. I left for the hospital, knowing that multips can be unpredictable. When I checked the patient at 10 pm and she was already 8 cm, I had a feeling that we'd not be successful at having the first baby of the new year. Her labor was going too fast. So I sat with her and her husband. She was coping beautifully with natural childbirth. The clock ticked, and no urge to push...finally, around 11 pm she was saying she felt some pressure and I encouraged her to listen to her body, to push if she felt the urge but to not feel pressured to push unless she was ready. The clock kept ticking...could we have a chance? At 11:30, still not seeing the head, the nurse and I exchanged glances. The excitement in the room was building with each passing minute.

But alas, at 10 minutes until midnight we started to see head. At 7 minutes before midnight, out came the baby boy, greeting December 31st, 2009 with a shrill cry, as if he too were disappointed in his rather unceremonious arrival. I placed him on his mother's tummy and covered him with a warm blanket, rubbing him gently to encourage his breathing.

My only claim to fame this New Year's Day is having caught the first placenta of the new year, which happened to pop out at 12:01. It's a good lesson for me, I guess, because midwifery isn't supposed to be about fame and fortune. As I tell myself time and time again on the job. "Just be thankful to be present in this special moment."

So that was how I spent my New Year's Eve. I can't think of a more beautiful way to spend it. And gosh, what a nice placenta!