A few weeks ago I had the very rare and wonderful opportunity of jetting off to Chicago on a whim to witness my lifelong friend birth her first child. I felt completely out of my element from the very beginning (booking a flight on a Friday morning? For that very afternoon? By myself?! Weird.), but any doubt that I had was gone by the time I got to the hospital at 10:00 that evening (ok, by the time I got on the plane - but leaving was really hard for me!).
The details of the labor and birth are not mine to record, but I do want to remember all that I learned during the experience of helping my friend through that difficult time. I've repeatedly read of the value of support during labor and I was able to see first hand just how true it is. When I put myself in the situation, I know how much I would want to have someone there with me who really, truly understood my desires and goals and could help me reach them as much as the situation would allow me to. The experience definitely nurtured my desire to pursue doula training one day (you know, when I can regularly leave my home at the spur of the moment for unknown lengths of time...) and also fed my recent obsession with birth photography.
On another note, my big city experience was made complete when I took three modes of public transportation and all for the first time. I chuckled through my first taxi ride as Lee tracked the route our driver was taking with her iPhone (I know she was worried that he might be taking us off course to some obscure location with intent to cause us harm - or at the very least taking us the long way and ripping us off). I tucked my phone safely into my purse (at Lee's insistence) while we rode the city bus straight through the ghetto, and I navigated my way to O'Hare on the L train while pondering the possibility of a terrorist attack occurring while I was stuck on the elevated tracks (this thought was generously planted into my head by none other than Lee). I pretended for a little while that I was a city girl and that experiences such as these were commonplace for me, but the truth is that I was pretty darn glad to get off of that plane and see six sweet faces holding their homemade "Welcome Home, Mommy!" banner.
A heartfelt thank you to my friend who invited me into such a sacred time, and to my sweet husband who was so willing to be Mr. Mom for the weekend. I almost wish that he would have struggled just a tiny bit more, but the truth is that he's just really great. It was a weekend that I will never forget.
The details of the labor and birth are not mine to record, but I do want to remember all that I learned during the experience of helping my friend through that difficult time. I've repeatedly read of the value of support during labor and I was able to see first hand just how true it is. When I put myself in the situation, I know how much I would want to have someone there with me who really, truly understood my desires and goals and could help me reach them as much as the situation would allow me to. The experience definitely nurtured my desire to pursue doula training one day (you know, when I can regularly leave my home at the spur of the moment for unknown lengths of time...) and also fed my recent obsession with birth photography.
On another note, my big city experience was made complete when I took three modes of public transportation and all for the first time. I chuckled through my first taxi ride as Lee tracked the route our driver was taking with her iPhone (I know she was worried that he might be taking us off course to some obscure location with intent to cause us harm - or at the very least taking us the long way and ripping us off). I tucked my phone safely into my purse (at Lee's insistence) while we rode the city bus straight through the ghetto, and I navigated my way to O'Hare on the L train while pondering the possibility of a terrorist attack occurring while I was stuck on the elevated tracks (this thought was generously planted into my head by none other than Lee). I pretended for a little while that I was a city girl and that experiences such as these were commonplace for me, but the truth is that I was pretty darn glad to get off of that plane and see six sweet faces holding their homemade "Welcome Home, Mommy!" banner.
A heartfelt thank you to my friend who invited me into such a sacred time, and to my sweet husband who was so willing to be Mr. Mom for the weekend. I almost wish that he would have struggled just a tiny bit more, but the truth is that he's just really great. It was a weekend that I will never forget.