The new millenium came, and while we all sat in labor and delivery and waited for the computers to shut down, fireworks went off over the river. No dramatic start as predicted, just another turning over of the clocks. Jaime was a senior, and with that were all of the activities of senior year. Plans for college were being made, and graduation parties were planned. My husband had returned to over the road trucking after debating his intense dislike of working the dock. My life stayed focused on building my practice, providing great midwivery care to my clients, and we moved the Corydon office to Floyds Knobs. It was a beautiful new office, with new furniture to replace the used furniture I had purchased for the Corydon office. When Dr. Catalano joined the practice, he was not as thrilled with the ambiance of the Corydon office, or with the drive to it, so he sought out this new space for the practice. I loved my new office, and my new desk. I took great care setting up my space, and invited my Corydon clients to see me there. I especially enjoyed the naturopathic physician across the hall from us. I would visit with her, sharing ideas for natural remedies to ailments my clients would have. I obtained privileges to deliver babies at another hospital close to the office, and performed inservices for the staff there to help them to assimilate some of my midwifery care into their unit.

The local birth community was starting to build up with the formation of the Birthcare Network, based in Louisville, but encompassing southern Indiana as well. Doulas, lactation specialists, childbirth educators, massage therapists and chiropractors joined together monthly for meetings, providing speakers for each meeting to inform all of the services available for women in our community. I was invited to speak about my practice, and I jumped at the chance to educate them about midwifery, and the struggles that continued in the hospitals. Many of my clients hired doulas to attend their birth, so I had become familiar with several of them and was eager to learn about their training programs and practices. Doulas attend to women in pregnancy, labor and birth, providing education and support to the family, encouraging women through birth, ensuring that they are informed about procedures and choices, and that their birth plans are honored. On occasion doulas will act as protectors of the client, insisting that the nurses and providers give explanations for the interventions they are suggesting, and on rare occasions advising the patient to refuse the intervention. Many times this is a valuable service, saving the patient unnecessary procedures or surgery. Other times, it is looked at by the providers as a barrier, adding another step into the decision making process and causing them to have to spend valuable time educating the family about the recommended procedure. But the studies are clear, the presence of a doula reduces the rate of cesarean section, and increases patient satisfaction with their birth experience.

Summer was a busy season for me with births, as well as with my family. Jaime graduated, went to work at one of the local banks, started college, and became engaged. Tara got married, and they moved out of our house into their own home in Corydon. Kayla was elected to the cheer squad, and between practices and her friends I didn’t see her very much. Everyone seemed to be growing up and away, and my vision stayed focused on my career. I still enjoyed just being with women, watching them bring new life and new hope into their lives. One evening I sat in the room with a family having their first child. I was drawn to this room, sitting in the corner just observimg the workings of each member of her family. They were a well oiled clock. The laboring mama sat on the birth ball beside the bed, room dimy lit, christian music playing softly in the background. Her husband sat on the chair behind her, providing pressure to her lower back, and speaking words of encouragment and praise to her through her contractions. Her mother flittered around the room, providing cool cloths for her face and neck, and sips of water for her dry mouth. The room was nearly silent. With each contraction she would start to moan lowly, as she would start to rock side to side. As the contraction continued to build her moans would grow louder, and her family would start encouraging her with positive affirmations of her strength and faith in god. As the labor progressed, bringing her closer to the time for birth, she asked her father to read to her from the bible. For the remainder of her labor, as the contractions strengthened, words of faith and strength and hope filled the air. She seemed to smile through the pain as she would repeat some of the words and phrases that were being spoken. The air in the room seemed to be filled with the holy spirit, and I sat there in amazement and as a witness to her strength and the wonderful gift of this family and experience I was being given. When she started to bear down with the contractions, we assisted her onto the bed and as she laid to her side the crown of the baby’s head was visible! She was ready to birth. I didn’t want to alert the nurses. I knew that when I turned on that call light the whole dynamic in that room would change. The nurses would come in, turn on the lights, the sound of alarms would fill the air as they turned on the baby warmer, voices would not be be in hushed tones, and this baby would be whisked away to the warner once it was born. So I gently whispered to her, “just do what your body tells you to do.” I caught that baby in the dimly lit room with the love of the family to the sound of Amazing Grace. The baby’s cry alerted the nurses, and they burst into the room, turned on the lights, loud voices, questioning what had happened, why hadn’t I called them. “It just happened so fast and I couldn’t find the call light,” was my response. “It’s ok, the baby is great!” They scurried around, taking the baby to the warmer for the required exam, checking vitals on the mom, cleaning up the room after the birth. But for a few minutes, I felt the joy that homebirth midwives must feel, the feeling of just being with women, and allowing birth to just happen.

I left for work early one morning in the fall after a call from the hospital that one of my patients had arrived ready to deliver. The 30 minute drive always seemed like an eternity when I was rushing to a birth. Arriving in time for the birth gave me a minute to catch my breath from the run from the parking lot, so I donned my gloves and gown and got to the business of baby catching. I had a full day in the Jeff office so I stayed busy all day, and on my drive home I attempted to call my husband. He was to have been home all day, having just returned the night before, and I wanted to let him know I was on my way with dinner. No answer. Why wasn’t he answering his phone? I called the house phone, Kayla answered. “No, dad hasn’t been here all day. He was gone when I got up.” Hmm, that’s odd. Upon arriving home I noticed his semi truck in the driveway. I went into the house, he wasn’t there. I went to the back yard and to the garage, he wasn’t there. His truck was gone. His tools were all gone. His cell phone layed on his workbench. I ran to the house, to the bedroom, threw open the closet doors and dresser drawers, his clothes were gone! My mind was screaming! This isn’t happening! The tears started to flow. Kayla came into the room. “He’s gone, all of his stuuff is gone! She started crying. What was happening? No warning, no notice, no note. Is there a note? I started to run frantically through the house, where is the note? Where is the explanation? No note, no explanation. Just gone. I called Jaime, she had not heard from him. Tara had not heard from him. He just left. All evening I called anyone I could think of, “have you seen or heard from him?” No one had. He just vanished. I was devastated. The girls were devastated. All night we laid together on my bed crying. Each time a car light reflected on the window one of us would jump up to see if he was back. Morning came, no word. Life goes on. Jaime and I went to work, Kayla went to school. I couldn’t think. I was numb. Please let me wake up from this nightmare. For 3 days we lived this nightmare, and on the third day Jaime call me and said he called. “What did he say?” “I didn’t talk to him, he left a voicemail,” she said. “Play it for me.” The message said he was so sorry but he had met someone and had moved away and was team driving a truck with her. Her. He left me for someone else. “What’s the number he called from?” I asked her. When I called a woman answered. “Let me speak to my husband,” I demanded. The conversation made no sense, he had met this person a couple weeks ago and had decided he just wanted to leave. It was easier to do it this way. Easier for who? He wasn’t coming back.