a farm birth
lorna davies
In May 2002 during a visit to The Farm, I was privileged to attend a birth in the Tower Road cabin. This is my account of that birth. I would like to thank Paige, David and Ali for letting me share their special time and for allowing me to recount it. I would also like to thank Pamela for making it possible. Lastly, but not least, I would like to thank Sara for letting me ‘pull the long straw!’
I feel I should stress that the opportunity to attend a birth on the Farm is not a part of the itinerary for the trip to The Farm. This was my third visit and I had built up a trusting relationship with the Farm midwives, that enabled me to access their working space.
The phone rings and I am immediately awake, heart pounding, adrenaline flowing, jetlag forgotten. “Lorna, things are going just great, she is six to seven centimetres and going strong. Come when you’re ready.” There are two aspiring midwives who are staying on the Farm, partying in the next room, and they have also heard the phone ring and are at least as excited as I am.
It is one o clock in the morning, a warm night in May and a breeze blows gently through the newly leafed trees. I have a torch with which to pick my way along Tower Road, a quaint term of address for what is little more than a track through the woods. The moon, when it emerges from behind the light cloud covering, offers me additional help. I find the drive to the birth cabin, and a warm glow of lamplight emanates from the interior of the cabin, inviting me to enter. I feel a shiver of anticipation as the realisation that I am possibly going to be present at a birth on The Farm really sinks in.
I tentatively push open the side door to the house, which is ajar and I can immediately feel the energy of birth. I can see Pamela and Deborah, the midwives, sitting quietly in the corner of the room, focussing on a labouring woman who is in the throes of a contraction. She rides the force of the contraction effortlessly on all fours on a bed at the front of the cabin. As she completes her ‘rush’ she turns and smiles at me and we exchange names. Her face is flushed, her eyes are bright, her skin is lustrous and she looks really beautiful, a Birth Goddess. David, her partner seems to be totally in tune with her, anticipating her needs before she is even aware of them. He gives her water to sip and gently massages her lower back in between contractions. The midwives just sit and watch and wait.
I am sitting next to a table and I am suddenly jolted by a movement by my feet. I look down and meet the gaze of Ali, the 12 year old daughter of Paige and David. “Hello, are you here to see the baby being born?” She shakes her head “I just want to be here with my mom, but I don’t want to see the baby being born. I might faint”. “I’m Lorna, I’m a midwife from England and your mum has very kindly allowed to me to be here when she has her baby. We can help each other if you like.”
David indicates that he would like a drink and I offer to make some coffee. The cabin is tiny, much smaller than I had imagined it would be, and I pick my way over the personal items of the family, who have been staying for a few days. I smile at the informality of the place and the event, and wish that some of the victims of the system were with me to see how birth could be.
Paige, who has been going through a lull in her labour, suddenly stands and says that she needs air. She throws open the door at the front of the cabin and breathes in the cool night air deeply. It seems to rejuvenate her and Pamela smiles at me knowingly. “You’re so close Paige, do you want to try and squat?” She squats, for a moment supported by David. “No I need to sit in front of you”. She sits on the bed with David behind her for a few moments, before moving again onto all fours over the side of the bed. She stretches and arches her body, transferring the weight from one side of her body to the other, she reminds me of a tigress.
I notice that Ali has emerged from her hidey hole under the table and is standing at the back of the room waiting for the birth to happen. I join her and ask her if she is ok, she just nods.
It strikes more than it ever has before, that I am witnessing an ancient ceremony. There is a sense of timelessness. Out here in the woods, in the silent of the night, I could be situated in any period of time that I choose to be. The primal and raw reality of birth have never been more apparent to me and I am in envy and awe of this woman and her fecundity, her power.
The baby slides from the dark recesses of Paige’s body and is welcomed into the world by Pamela. I glance at Ali and she is silently weeping. I put my arm around her shoulder, but I know that there is no fear, only overwhelming joy. “Your mum is an amazing role model you know,” I tell her. “You will have this memory with you for the rest of your life.” She steps forward to greet her new sister and to hug her parents, a family reunited.
It is time for me to leave now. The placenta has arrived and has been checked, the bed has been made, the baby is now feeding. I offer my thanks and congratulations and step out of the cabin. I am tired. In three hours I have to deliver a session on the first day of the workshop. But I am also aware of how privileged I have been.
I was introduced to ‘Spiritual Midwifery’ as a student midwife, at a time when I was trying to make sense of the production line obstetrics that I was continually exposed to, convinced that there had to be another way. The experience of the women and the midwives on The Farm gave me hope in a way that my midwifery education and practice experience did not. I pored over the chapters, familiarising myself with the birth stories. I never imagined at that time that I would even visit The Farm, let alone attend a birth. In many ways this experience serves as a pinnacle in my midwifery career and it is something that I will always carry in my heart.
See details of current trips to The Farm