In Honor of Julien's Upcoming 30th Birthday

Pregnancy with Julien

Pregnant, 27 years old, living in Fort Collins Co in 1980. Gilles and I lived in a one bedroom apartment in a gray building trimmed with white on Remington Street. Gilles worked at various restaurants. He was on a serial job search—he’d have a job for a month or two and then would quit or be fired.

Waitressing was my livelihood. The Silver Grille was a true “greasy spoon” with booths along one side and a lunch bar with swivel stools. Farmers had eaten dependable meals there for decades. It was a friendly place to work. No lifting the full buss tubs was allowed when I was pregnant.

One day for lunch we served spaghetti & meatballs. A cup of aromatic parmesan was sitting on the order station so we could sprinkle it on top of each order as it came from the kitchen. Being pregnant, that smell hit me like a truck load of garbage. I had to bolt to the bathroom. Luckily, that was my only full blown attack of morning sickness.

That first trimester I was exhausted. I’d get to work about 6 am, work until 2 pm, go home and nap. Gilles would wake me for supper. Then I’d go back to sleep until morning. That little nubbin’ growing inside was sucking the energy. I guess that’s why kids are so active—they’ve got all Mom’s energy stored up from those nine months of pregnancy.

When I was into my second trimester and had a bit more energy I realized that I needed to know more about this pregnancy and birth situation. Although I had lots of experience taking care of babies, being the oldest of six, Mom never really talked about pregnancy or birthing with me. My usual modus operandi was to read about something. So I went to the local bookstore. It was in a beautiful stone building and was called the Stone Lion. From the section on pregnancy & childrearing I picked The Immaculate Deception
by Suzanne Arms and Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin. These books revealed to me that I didn’t really want to have my baby in the hospital and that even I could have my baby at home. I’d never heard of anyone doing it but these books said that women could do it.

How to go about it was the next question. Spiritual Midwifery was jam packed with stories of home births and even had a little guide for midwives – but where could I find a midwife??? Never met one. Didn’t know they still existed. So- back to the bookstore I went. Lo & behold, my prayers were answered. A flyer was posted near my destination book section for “Informed Home Birth Classes”-- just what I needed. Gilles was certainly not up to being my midwife. This teacher must know midwives! So I wrote down her number and called. Little did I know that I was entering into a timeless fairy world where I would be captured and held for over 20 years.

Karen, the childbirth educator, was full of information and enthusiasm. We signed up. The more I learned the more I wanted to give birth at home. We only lived blocks from Poudre Valley Hospital, so if I needed help we had quick access. I continued my OB care but started looking for a midwife. There were none per se who lived in Fort Collins. The closest were in Boulder. Gilles & I drove the hour plus to visit Myrna. She had lots of her own children and seemed nice enough. But driving all the way to Boulder for prenatals was daunting. In Fort Collins there was a midwifery study group with about 8 members. I started to study with them. We decided that the study group, who had members who’d attended about 30 births, would help us. Although not the most experienced, they did know emergency measures if needed and since they were quickly becoming my friends, I knew I could count on their good judgement to do what was needed to keep me & my baby safe.

During my pregnancy I had started out with an OB/GYN, Dr H. First I was told I wasn’t gaining enough weight. Then at the next month’s visit they told me I was gaining too much weight. I just wasn’t fitting into their charts and graphs.

When I firmly decided to go for a homebirth I innocently thought it best to inform Dr H. When I told him my intentions, he got a grave expression on his face. He repeated several times, ”Nature isn’t perfect. Nature isn’t perfect. Nature isn’t prefect.” while looking off into the distance, seeing some horrible experience he’d had. He wouldn’t explain it, probably hoping to just scare me into submission rather than teaching me why he believed this way. Maybe he hoped to save my life or my baby—or maybe just spare me some bloody details. But after that I changed providers. For back up I chose a family practice which was less fearful, though still not enthusiastic about doctor-less hospital-less childbirth.

Surprisingly, we’d decided that we could afford for me not to work at the end of my pregnancy. I think it was a good thing. That way I could be rested & ready for the work of labor. My parents had given me some money in case we had to go to the hospital. We had no insurance.

With the support of the study group, I ate well, rested, exercised and prepared for labor. One older Italian immigrant who worked with Gilles was delighted to learn of our pregnancy. He advised, “My wife had eight children. Just make her walk every day and the baby will just come out.” I followed his advice, hoping I’d have such good results.
--Terra Rafael