Sylvie #MarchMonologue

March is the month of monologues. I’m using monologues as character development for the six characters of my birthpunk novellas. Here we see Sylvie, a young midwife, who wants to escape the world she no longer fits, alone in a darker, starker, more dangerous landscape.

One. Two. No…it can’t be. But yes…there it is: the second heart beat. How easy it would be to miss it behind its sibling.

Keep a straight face. Hold it close and work out what twins mean here where all the talk is of a chosen child. A child. Just one.

If you want one, you, glaring down at me, which one do you want? And what will you do with the other? I have never lost a baby. I don’t plan to. Not out here where there is nothing but death pressing in through every crack and crevice. Death might be your handmaiden but it is not mine.

The girl’s fingers are hot, wrapped around my cold ones. Always so cold, especially under Daniel’s hand in the back of the car. His hand jerking away from mine. Rejection, betrayal or survival? Or my will to push him away.

Doesn’t matter now. You’re far away Daniel. So far it doesn’t beg thinking about. I close my fingers around this girl who needs me. I squeeze hard enough to assert my presence, my belief in her ability to birth twins, but not too hard. I’m only here to support, not to control…not like the woman around us. Those who hold us against our will.

I’m so awfully afraid. But you are afraid too. Terrified.

What have I done?

I can’t…

The crone looks at me.

A piercing glance and the hairs on my neck bristle like a cliché. Everything is wrong about this. About her.  About the girl. This room and me in it.

Where is Sophie? Is she safe?

If only my beeper worked. I’d be able to let her know I’m still here. I promised her I would be there. And I will. I will Sophie. You believed in me. And I believe in you. I don’t go back on my word. I know you are scared. I’m scared too. If only the beeper worked. I could ask for help.

The crone looks at me, her gaze penetrating me like a rusty metal blade. Violent and deadly.

The pinnard is heavy in my hand. Not as heavy as the sentence I let go as I struggle to work out what to do. The words catch in a choking cough as though I’m not meant to say anything. They bounce off the crumbling walls of the room.

The crone nods. Oh my Goddess, she nods. And I have time.

The cold, sharp air… ahh, after the closed, stinking interior of the birthing room it’s a relief. Colder than the water I’ve just asked to bathe under. Colder than the glare Marcus, the man could as easily undo me as save me, gives me when I tell him what I want.

Are you for me, or against me? Tell me?

Your back is the only answer I get because, I can’t ask. The black cotton sticks in weird contours that defy anatomy.

One foot after another, after another, in the dusty tracks, leading me away from that building.

Lead me anywhere, away form there, deeper into the Dead Zone. It makes no sense, but I trust you. I shouldn’t, but I do. Keep me safe please, Marcus. Please.

I need to get back to Sophie. I gave a promise and I will do anything to keep it.

PS: Happy 500th post here at 1000 Pieces of Blue Sky!

Brave New World: The Birth State

Last week a NSW woman received a visit from Bathurst police when she failed to keep an appointment at the local hospital for an unwanted induction. The point was – she had employed a private midwife, she was having a homebirth, the local hospital had botched her first birth and the only reason she was going to the hospital was for monitoring because she was 12 days overdue.

Knowing the political climate – the visits to the hospital, I am assuming were to keep the bureaucracy off their backs and for the midwife to be able to say she was doing everything ‘according to the book’ – monitoring a woman who was pushing past ‘acceptable dates’ for birthing.

But coppers on your door step when heavily pregnant? Screams of bullying tactics. Bet they don’t send the coppers around for just any old client who misses an appointment.

While the Health District issued an official apology after the story became viral across the digital media outlets – did they really need to call the police for a ‘welfare check.’

When I created a band of  ‘secret agents’  for my Fourth Fiction novella – I wondered if I was pushing the acceptable boundaries. A Government who legislates against natural birth and thus creates a branch of policing who tap phones, follow people, use torture and interrogation, puts the fear of God through the populace and hunt down midwives and their clients for firing squads… well part of me feels as though it is not that far fetched.

Don’t do what you’re told and we’ll be around to visit…

In mid 2004 the Qld Government passed legislation to protect unborn children. The idea behind the legislation was to provide some protection for babies for example,  of mothers who were drug addicts or were known to be living in abusive relationships. But all it takes are some unpleasent, pissed off hospital bureaucrats to abuse a new legislation.

The Royal Women’s Hospital made a complaint against a North Brisbane woman who had been trying to get support there for a natural birth after two previous caesareans. When it became clear late in her pregnancy that she was not going to get the support she needed, she chose to go to a different hospital. Upset with the treatment by the Royal she didn’t bother to phone or cancel her next appointment, fed up and stressed out with the bully, beligerent behaviour of staff there.

When she failed to attend, the hospital took it upon themselves to ‘assume’ she was now going to have a homebirth, decided this endangered the life of her unborn child and sent police officers around to investigate a report of ‘child abuse’.

The woman was in early labour when the police arrived and she was left to convince the police she was indeed receiving care from an alternate hospital. The woman still has a record with child services as a result of this call out.

This is the not first nor the last breach of trust from a hospital.

Consider the homebirth Mum who was having twins but wanted to do the right thing and engage the hospital in conversation about a working partnership with her and her partner, and their midwife – her details and the details of her midwife from this informal discussion were passed on, in a breach of confidentiality, to other authorities. Her midwife was bullied and threatened with deregistration. The woman ended up in a private hospital attempting to negotiate a natural birth but lost her battle. Four hours after her twins were born by major abdominal surgery she was back in to repair a major cut in her bladder, caused during the original operation.

Or… of the homebirth Mum who made was trying to do the right – to book into hospital, and her doctor’s referral requesting an ante natal appointment to ‘book in’ made it all the way to the Director of Nursing’s desk, because it mentioned a previous  ‘homebirth’ and an incorrect midwife’s name written down. The storm which followed included lawyers because the erroneously mentioned midwife was under investigation by her professional body (she was ‘rude’ to an obstetrician during a transfer) and had was also under a health department edict not to attend homebirths while employed as a public midwife.

When you do the right thing – they just want to shit all over you and let you know who is boss. Well the truth is, a woman is the ‘boss’ of her body and a woman will not hand over the sovereinty of her body without a fight. This is why I set foot for the last time in a hospital at 20 weeks having had a scan, with both Dave and I agreeing it was no place to welcome a baby into the world. Good thing too – I birthed at 42 weeks.

The time is ripe to get back to my (still unnamed) novella and complete the next six installments. It is this type of arrogance and bullying behaviour which gets my goat up, and the creative stream flowing.

Thanks to Felicity Dowker for inciting his blog rant!

#13 A Candle for Emma and Chloe


I got an email from a friend in Canada today to say she had finally gone into labour after a long wait. She asked us to light a candle for her and her daughter on their birthing journey (this is a relatively common tradition among homebirthing women!)  My sister searched out a white candle and the three of us (my sister Lisa, my niece Kira and myself) lit it together.

I specifically chose not to cut out the kitchen bench and assorted bits and pieces as Emma is birthing at home and hoping to have her new daughter in her arms in time for the breastfeeding event she’s organised on her front lawn!

#4 Beginnings


Today we’re celebrating a week of having Joss Tait with us.

This time last week I was with my soul sister, my little brother and my Goddaughter enjoying the arrival of a little boy into our extended families. Joss was born in the loungeroom of his home, by candlelight, with his Dad, big sister, his Mum’s midwife and me in attendance. I look forward to sharing more of the photos from the birth to show the beauty, the powerful and the peaceful nature of homebirth AND why homebirth is the gold standard of maternity care.He arrived after two and a half hours of active labour.

As an aside, found out today a writer I’ve just started working with, is also a homebirth Mum.