My calling

Twenty-six years ago I sat on a bed in a military hospital in Colorado cradling my brand new baby sister. It was probably this point in my life when I decided that when I grew up, I wanted to be a mommy. Five seconds later I turned to the side and gently dropped my sister onto the bed with a bounce, jumped down and ran across the room to barter a deal with a Sergeant and his wife. "You can have my baby if I can have yours!", I had positively fallen in love with this tiny ebony child and just knew that I could take it home instead of my pale, and frail sick little sister.

Flash forward several months as I toddle happily out of our shared room with an empty bottle of baby Asprin, and proudly declare that I fixed my baby who had been ill. (After all I wanted to be a doctor!) Promptly followed by a stomach pumping and I'm sure an ass kicking that I can't seem to recall.

Two more years later I meet my newest little sister. This time I didn't try to trade her since I was a big girl and knew that you got what you got, no matter it's defect. (Love you Ace!) This time I didn't try to kill her either, instead I let every adult in the room know that I knew what kind of doctor I wanted to be! I was gonna deliver babies! Little did they know.

Thirteen years and one failed vasectomy later my little brother graced us with his presence after a quick induction. At seventeen years old the OB and I battled for a front row seat, while I witnessed my first live birth, that poor doctor kept asking me nicely to please mind the sterile field. As my little brother slowly unfolded himself from my mothers body I fell in love with the actual birth process.

Just a few short years later my little sister gave birth to my niece, after a labor that refused to progress my mother, and I were ask to accompany her to the delivery room for a c-section. Again the poor dear same old OB, called me Paparazi, and poked fun at me for nearly climbing on top of my little sister to get a better view as they deftly freed my niece from my sisters womb.

After that I lost track of my goals due to life and all that it entails. At the age of Twenty-two I met my darling husband whom I immediatly knew was the one. We spent our first night together and haven't been pried apart since.

Our first pregnancy was full of excitement and disappointment, I had planned a home birth to peacefully bring our son into the world. Quickly dashed by an OB that was horrid. To the outside world it seemed to be fine. However I was devastated. Induced, ignored, left to labor without support for the way I needed not wanted things to go. After 9 hours of hard active labor, our little boy was born. It took me months to be able to talk about it without breaking down.

Twenty-six months later our 8 month old son was born in a calm and pleasant manner at home, I couldn't have asked for a better birth. I got what I wanted!! This time I was happy, comfortable, and at peace with how my body worked.

Now I sit in my living room surrounded by piles of my school books. On the track to my career twenty-four years after I told everyone that I was going to deliver babies. I've come full circle, and am proud to know that one day my sons will roll their eyes sigh and tell their friends when asked, "What does your mom do?", "Ugh, She's a midwife. Please don't talk to her about babies. She'll make you crazy."