Today was my last appointment with the midwives, but most importantly, today was my last appointment with Hectate. I haven't finished the birth story yet (I'm mired in transition - aren't we all?) so I haven't adequately explained to you exactly what happened that day between the two of us. I can summarize it, though. For 7 months, my connection to her built up a molecule at a time. I cracked jokes all the time, trying to get a smile out of her, usually with no luck. At first we thought that she was friendly enough, but very quiet. We couldn't read her. Still, we kept logging the hours and I slowly got used to professionalism, and a medical philosophy that didn't tell me what to do, but instead told me what was going on and asked my permission. I stopped trying to impress and just listened.

By the birth, I thought I was prepared to trust her through anything. Then, surprise, surprise - I did trust her through the most painful, shocking & difficult experience of my life. She was completely firm with me; quelling my tendency to collapse and give up. And yet there was kindness there and praise and loving strength lent to me for the duration of the labour. I think it says something that although I begged her to kill me 4 hours into labour, I refused very few of the tasks she set before me.

I could put it this way: I have always admired teachers, people who know more than I and who want to help me learn. Hectate taught me about myself. She was so sure that I could go on past the limits I anticipated in myself that I forgot to prove her wrong. She told me during the birth that I was amazing. I didn't believe it then, but I was still glad to hear it because I wanted her to be happy with me. I still do.

This was a really emotional day for me. I cried in the office and I'm starting up again just from writing about it. Usually one breaks off a medical relationship for only 2 reasons: 1. it was a crisis and the crisis has been resolved, or 2. the professional was incompetent, irrelevant, and/or a jerk. This parting feels wrong. I've wanted to have children with the help of a midwife ever since I was a kid. And I've been dreading this appointment because it means that my pregnancy (i.e. the happiest part of the last 3 years) is well and truly over. No more stretchy new maternity clothes. No more development calendars. No more feeling the flutters & shoves inside my belly. No more happy, crazy plans with the Boy.

No more midwife appointments. No more midwives.

Good news: Blake weighs 10 lbs, 8 ounces - a pound & an ounce more than last time. He is thriving & happy. I've contacted La Leche League anyway and I'll be dropping in on a meeting next Tuesday night. My first visit to the Postpartum group was yesterday and I really enjoyed seeing all of the prenatal class babies in all their cooing, crying, drooling, pooping splendour. My parents asked me to drive home alone with Blake twice in the last 2 days - so they're starting to trust me travelling with him.

I'm still blue, but I'm sure that eventually all of the good news will catch up to me.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 1/23/2004 10:19:00 p.m.