This gorgeous tree patiently awaits as our walk approaches, reminding me of my own growth and change.
This post is about more than the Walk for Moms & Midwives. It’s about growth and humility and change.
One year ago we moved from a community that we loved dearly for my husband’s job. I quickly researched all things birth in my new area and found the Walk for Moms & Midwives, happening the weekend after our move. Although it was taking place an hour from our new town, I knew we had to be there. I knew I would meet friends and feel that birth energy I desperately crave.
And then I didn’t. I didn’t feel that love, that energy. I walked away with no friends, no feeling of hippie dippie love and welcoming goodness. My first taste that I was indeed in a new place. Things were different. This birth community was different. And I wasn’t swallowed up by it, like in my own community.
As the year went on, I had ups and downs. A feeling of excitement about bringing change and birth awareness to this small town I was now a part of. Fear of not being understood in a town that has no obvious birth community. In a town, and bigger, in a state, where CPM’s (Certified Professional Midwife) are not licensed and homebirth is not talked about openly. I went home. A lot. When I went into labor with our second baby, we drove 2 hours to have our baby at a dear friend’s home because I could not let go. My arms could reach just far enough to still be a part of my old community.
The seasons were changing. It was becoming spring. I was realizing I had new friends. I had seen homebirth in my town. I I had met women who loved midwifery, understood good maternal and prenatal care, were aware of a world outside of this teeny piece of land. Women who may not have been exactly like-minded, but women who were open-minded and really wanted information. Women who whispered to me in confidence that they slept with their babies and nursed their toddlers.
So as I looked around at this year’s Walk for Moms & Midwives, seeing friends and midwives and knowing stories of them all. Seeing a community that does love birth. A community that, while still not quite my own, was flourishing with families all sharing a passion for the same human and civil right. The same desire and fight that burns in my own heart.
This year, we walked and laughed with new friends. We were a part of this group. Without knowing it, we had become some piece of this puzzle.
While I still miss my heart, my being, my home, my tribe, this has become my home-away-from-home. I have created a safe birth circle, in spite of my dire resistance. In spite of my longing to be with my best friends. In spite of my desire to surround myself with my people. In spite of, well, myself.
* www.ncfom.org for more information on midwifery in North Carolina.