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Chapter II Continued
We Are Belief-Making and Belief-Consuming
Creatures
My wife and I felt honored to be
invited to attend the home birth of one of our staff
members. We tried in many different ways to assist
the two attending midwives as well as the parents-to-be.
A festive, yet relaxed atmosphere permeated their
apartment. To be additionally useful, I photographed
the evolving adventure for them, trying to capture
the special moments of support and caring these two
adventuresome souls shared. As Laura's contractions
became more and more frequent, one midwife listened
diligently to the baby's heartbeat and nodded with
an approving smile. Laura's cervix began to dilate
appropriately. The time of birth neared. But then,
suddenly, the contractions stopped completely. The
midwives tried several different noninvasive techniques
to restart the process but to no avail.
Laura lifted her huge form off the
bed and began pacing. One midwife, obviously concerned,
suggested that if her contractions did not begin again
soon it might be prudent to go to the hospital. Laura
shook her head. A home birth had always been her dream.
She wanted to stay; however, her general discomfort
kept increasing. Neither standing, walking nor lying
down eased it. Finally, she retreated to the bathroom,
sat down stark naked on the toilet seat and experienced
some relief. The midwives kept expressing their concern.
Laura asked if I would join the three of them. I sat
down between the sink and the bathtub. Laura looked
absolutely elegant as she cradled her huge abdomen
in her hands and smiled weakly at me.
"I'm getting scared, she whispered
to me. She reached out her hand, and I held it for
a few moments. "Bears, maybe you could ask me
some questions, especially about the contractions."
"Sure, I said smiling. "Why
do you think they stopped?"
One of the midwives began to answer
by stating clinically the possible physiology involved.
She also volunteered that this might be an inappropriate
time to ask questions. Laura leaned toward her and
said, "I want to figure this out! The questions
are fine." Then, she turned to me again. "I
think I know what happened," she continued, "but
I'm embarrassed to say."
"Why?" I asked. The answer
which followed, though particular to her own process,
reminded me of my own past questions and ones that
I have heard often expressed by prospective parents.
"Well, we all work with many
different people at the Institute," she said,
"but me, I'm being trained to work with special
children. To love them. Not to judge them. And suddenly,
when I was lying there and it was getting closer,
I got really scared." She paused as if to catch
her breath. "Suppose I have a special child like
some of the children we see or like you and Samahria
did. Suppose my child can't talk or see or move his
legs. You know, for everyone out there, it's just
a vague possibility. For me, it's very, very real.
We work with kids all the time who are less than what
the world calls 'perfect.'" Tears began to stream
down her cheeks.
"Why are you crying?" I
asked softly.
"Oh, I guess I expect more from
me. I really love what I do, I love the kids, but
I'm not sure it would be okay if my child had a problem,"
Laura admitted.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
She started itemizing every birth
defect, every developmental delay and every neurological
dysfunction she could imagine. We looked at the realities
of each one together: Down Syndrome, autism, cerebral
palsy, spina bifida, mental retardation, aphasia,
epilepsy, nonspecific brain dysfunction and the like.
One by one, she discarded her fears about these possibilities.
We persisted for about twenty minutes; then she held
her hand up,
"I got it," she said. "I
just decided. I can be strong, very strong. I will
love and treasure my baby no matter what happens!
I'm not afraid anymore."
A soft, radiant smile spread across
her face as her abdomen pitched upward into a pointed
crown in response to a powerful contraction. Her husband
came to her side and coached her breathing through
the movement. As we led her back into the bedroom,
Laura squeezed my hand.
Less than thirty minutes later, she
delivered a healthy, sweet little boy.
We can observe
our bodies and learn much about our beliefs. Physical
symptoms can help make our wants and concerns more
apparent. Thoughts occur body-wide; intelligence exists
everywhere in our system. When we think, we create
new and distinct electromagnetic impulses and chemical
substances throughout our entire physical form. When
we say we have changed our mind, we have made a statement
of fact. Our minds as well as our bodies change physically
each time we change a belief.
Chapter
2 Continued »» |
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