The Birthday of One Sweet Boy

We were 12 in my class of midwives and, though ranging in age from 23 to 58 and entering the program with vastly different life experiences, we became incredibly close. Every year since we graduated, as many of us as are able gather somewhere beautiful for a few days of retreat, stories, laughter, tears and wonderful togetherness.

Last summer we met in Santa Cruz and two of us were pregnant. The others organized a giving circle. They sat around us in a semi-circle and gave us flowers, massaged our feet, combed our hair, and then each midwife presented a bead to each of us. As they held the bead they told us why they chose it – representations of courage, strength, love, faith. They told us what they saw in us and what we should remember during birth. In the end we each had a colorful necklace and a warm full heart. I imagined myself in Ghana with my necklace, closing my eyes, sliding the beads between my fingers and invoking their presence. I did not imagine any of them physically by my side.

A few days after our retreat I spent an afternoon with Judith, my former midwifery instructor and dear friend. She is also the wise woman of the “seed of goodness” post and one of the great spiritual guides in my life. She asked whether any of my former classmates would come to the birth and when I said no she asked, “How about if I come?” I was thrilled with the idea but did not lose myself completely to the excitement because I did not want to be disappointed later. She said she would see if it were possible and we left it at that. A few months later Rita, one of my classmates, emailed to ask whether I would mind her coming for the birth. She was planning to take a break from her job and wanted to travel to Italy but thought the timing would work and she could pass through Ghana on her way. All I could think was, “What a ridiculous question!” Judith wrote a few weeks later to say that she would also come and the three of us emailed back and forth as arrangements were made.


Rita arrived in Ghana on February 11th. We spent a week in Kumasi, talking, catching up, waddling and wading through the market (an experience Rita agrees defies words and pictures), cooking, cleaning and sweating morning to night. Judith was scheduled to arrive at 5:15pm on Friday the 18th. I started feeling contractions on Monday the 14th and was slightly worried that the little boy would make his debut without Judith but we were all praying for him to wait and thankfully the contractions settled down. On Friday morning Rita and I cleaned house again and prepared a room for Judith. In the afternoon we walked to the nearby corner shop (about a 15 minute walk, most of the time) and on the way back I had to stop a couple times and breathe through contractions. When we reached the house we took a few more belly pictures with Clement and made food.

I received a call saying that the plane was delayed and would arrive at 6pm so at 5:30 I sent Rita by taxi to meet Judith. At that point the contractions were still a couple minutes apart but were gaining momentum so I called Ethel and Ernest – our former housemates. Ethel and Ernest had moved out within the previous week but wanted to be present for the birth (Ethel is expecting her first in April and wants me to deliver her here as well). I told them that the baby would probably be born sometime early the next morning and to come anytime. I also called Caterina a good Swiss friend who is married to a Ghanaian and has lived here for almost 20 years. She said she would come soon. Not long after Rita left Judith called to say that she was still in Accra, her flight was further delayed, and she would likely arrive around 7pm. I told her that Rita would meet her and I was contracting at home. Clement and I sat together on the couch, his hands and presence helping me through each contraction.

When Caterina arrived around 7pm I could still talk between contractions but had to close my eyes and breathe when they came. From there they accelerated quickly so that the interruptions in our conversation soon became the conversation and the power went out as if to emphasize the transition. Rita and Judith arrived at 8pm to a candle-lit scene of me contracting on the couch, with Caterina on my right and Clement on my left. I hugged Judith. She and Caterina introduced themselves. Judith sat down asked me what I had had to eat and drink, how the contractions were going, and then went to her room to change into scrubs (not at all acting like someone who had just reached the end of a 24 hour journey). I moved into the bedroom and kept my eyes mostly closed from then on.

I remember rocking and saying “Ayayayayayayayaye” with contractions. I remember opening my eyes at one point and seeing Ethel. It was hot and I wanted to get into the cold bath so as the tub filled I sat on the toilet but that seemed to intensify the pain so then I leaned over the edge until I could step into the half filled tub. I asked Clement to call Rex, my “just-in-case” OB and when he asked what he should say, I said, “Tell him I am DEFINITELY in active labor.” Rita later told me that she held her tongue at that point. No one had examined me and she had her doubts about how far along I really was. I only managed a couple contractions in the tub. I felt like I needed to open my legs as wide as possible during contractions and the tub was just too narrow. I headed back to the bedroom floor. Caterina had sewed a baby mattress as a gift to our little one and Rita wrapped that tiny mattress in a sheet of plastic and placed it on the floor for me.

I alternated between hands-and-knees and side-lying positions. Clement sat at my right shoulder, often holding my hand, and Judith at my hip, supporting and massaging my legs. I felt nauseous at the peak of contractions and eventually vomited all the water I had been drinking. Whenever the contractions came I would stretch out my hands and squeeze whoever’s hands met mine. I thought often of all the many stoic women I have attended in birth and I told myself to relax and open to the contractions but my muscles did not seem to comply. My legs shook involuntarily and I found comfort in squeezing hands as hard as I could.

During my pregnancy I gave myself permission to just be a woman and not a midwife during labor. I did not want to allow myself to think that being a midwife would give me any edge over the pain or the difficulty of the experience. While it is indeed comforting to have witnessed so many women successfully labor and birth, I wanted to use those memories only for the comfort and encouragement they offered and not as a standard to force on myself. I did not want to continually hear an internal voice of judgment or clinical assessment during labor. Even so, the midwife in me occasionally piped up with a few remarks. When a woman is around 7 or 8cm dilated she will often vomit and shake so even though I had not been laboring very long when I started shaking I was hopeful that I was nearing the end of first stage. Rita and Judith told me they would only check me when I asked to be examined and I really wanted to wait as long as possible to make sure the news would be good news so I just kept shaking and squeezing hands.

A short while later I approached my personal edge; the intensity of contractions continued increasing and the pauses in between seemed to vanish. Negative thoughts starting infiltrating my mind and the little internal midwife said “Good, another sign of approaching the end of the first stage.” I told Rita and Judith that I didn’t feel strong, I told them that I was afraid of second stage. Everyone in the room offered reassurance and I made it through a few more contractions. Often in labor when a woman is completely dilated (10cm) her contractions will seem to peter out and she will have a short break (maybe 30 minutes and occasionally more) before they start up again. I was waiting for this break and kept saying, “Dear God, I need a break please just a little break.” Judith, in a stroke of brilliance, asked, “Would you like a shot of morphine?” of course I said, “YES.” I kept my eyes closed and Judith said, “Ok, we’re getting it ready.” Then Rita gently touched my arm and said, “There, there is your shot.” When she said that my entire body relaxed completely just for a few minutes and it was wonderful.

The next time I reached my maximum and after a few involuntary pushes I asked Rita to check me. I knew the baby was still high and I worried about being much earlier in the process than I hoped. At 11:30pm Rita checked me and said I was 9.5cm dilated and had a bulging bag. She then quietly said to Judith, “She’s minus 2” which means the baby was still a bit high in my pelvis. Disappointed with the decent I said, “minus 2?!” and Judith said, “Hey, be glad you’re not just 4cm.” I had a couple more contractions on my side and then the pain became unbearable in that position so I hopped on my knees and with the next contraction gave a big push. The bag of water broke. I felt great relief and there were sounds of celebration from everyone. I put my arms around Clement for support. Judith and Rita moved to a corner to quietly discuss something and then with the next contraction I pushed again and felt him start to crown. I reached down and when I touched about 4 centimeters of scalp I called out, “He’s coming.” Judith immediately took up her spot on a stool behind me. Rita lay almost upside down with her hands on his head and coached me to slowly push him out. I heard Ethel and Caterina make sweet “aw” sounds and I knew we were almost there. I felt his shoulder come out and then Rita said, “Grab your baby,” and I reached down, pulled the rest of him free and brought him up to my chest. After a long wait and great expectation he was here at 11:50pm on February 18th 2011, weighing 9lbs 2oz (Rita thought the scale was broken and make us reweigh him) . . .


Thulani Michael Chiwaula.

I chose Thulani, which is pronounced “Tu-la-nee” and means “be calm” or “be comforted,” and Clement chose Michael in honor of my loving and supportive father.

When I was 12 someone told my class that they would give us a gift we could use throughout our lives. They said, “Whenever you feel stressed or overwhelmed take a deep breath, close your eyes and say to yourself, ‘Be still and know that I am Lord.” I have used this many times in my life and it always successfully reorients me as to what is significant and what is insignificant.

So here he is, our precious boy, Thulani, a living mantra to accompany us throughout a lifetime. Be calm. Be comforted. Be still and know that there is a greater source of love and energy flowing through all life always. Relinquish the burden of your falsely assumed control and trust, hope, and have faith.

Many many thanks to Judith and Rita, our midwife angels, who saw us safely across the big wide deep river, which is birth.



And, thanks to our dear friends, Caterina, Ethel and Ernest, who cheered us along our way.