 
|
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
AGH is wrong to close its Midwife Center, but we will follow the women
Saturday, April 15, 2000
By Jennifer Kissel
My stomach did a flip-flop the morning I heard that Allegheny General Hospital's next round of layoffs would mean the end of Pittsburgh's only freestanding birth center, The Midwife Center for Birth and Women's Health. The flip-flop could have been my 4-month-old fetus, stretching to start the day. But the tightness in my chest came from anger at the hospital, and sadness for my midwives.
My husband, Rick, and I found these six special women at West Penn's Birthplace when I was pregnant with our first child in 1996. I spoke at a hearing on their behalf when West Penn fired them after they resigned and announced their affiliation with AGH. In 1998 I had our second child with them at their new home. Several months ago, I cringed when I heard West Penn would be overseeing AGH.
Against my nature, I marched in a recent protest about the layoffs (and will be at AGH today at 11 a.m. for a protest rally). Now I wonder where our third child will be born. I do know I'll be with my midwives, wherever they are.
Friends and family, some of whom work at AGH, are as saddened as we are. Many other people do not understand. "What's the big deal?" someone asked me. "Can't you just find another doctor?"
Through three pregnancies, I put my life and my babies' lives into these women's capable hands. To the other 1,000 women who do the same, our midwives are more than people to catch babies when they slide into the world. They are our best friends, our sisters and our mothers in an emotionally and spiritually charged time.
Nationally, births assisted by certified nurse midwives are on the rise, increasing every year since 1975. According to the National Center for Health Statistics, in 1997 there were 258,227 midwife-attended births in the U.S.
Yet midwifery is still looked upon in some regions with superstition and confusion.
During my first pregnancy, I enthusiastically told people I planned to give birth with midwives at a birth center. Most people raised their eyebrows and said nothing. Occasionally, I met women who had given birth with midwives, and they'd smile in support.
And some people thought I'd lost my mind.
"Honey," one woman warned, "Your baby will die!" Others told rumors of deformed babies, and of midwives practicing witchcraft. For a while, I carried a list of midwifery statistics. According to the American College of Nurse Midwives, in 1991 the cesarean-section rate for midwife births was 11.6 percent. The national average was 23.3 percent. The national infant mortality rate was 8.6 per 1,000. For midwives, it was 4.1 per 1,000. About 68 percent of certified nurse midwives have a master's degree. Four percent have a doctorate
The word midwife means "with woman." General midwifery philosophy is to use little intervention, and then elevate the levels of intervention as necessary. Midwives support a woman's right to make decisions about her body. I had hoped at first for a natural birth, but after two long, extremely difficult and at times terrifying labors, I know that "with woman" is exactly what midwifery is all about.
The Midwife Center has six midwives. During your pregnancy, you get to know them all. During our appointments, we feel special. When we leave, we can't wait to go back. The office staff knows us, sometimes even hugs us hello! When we go to an appointment without our children, the midwives and staff are disappointed. When Rick can't come, they send him their love.
Lynn Chiappelli assisted us at both births. During my first labor, even after nearly two days without sleep, Lynn never left our sides. She shared my pain as I trudged up and down stairs, encouraging my stubborn baby to try to turn around. I saw her concern when she suggested I go to the hospital. She felt my frustration when the nurses said I was "breathing wrong," and my anger when the doctor looked at my chart (not at me) and said, "Give her more pitocin." She requested a c-section, and stood her ground until doctors agreed. Lynn held Rick's hand firmly when he was crying and feeling helpless. And she held Corrina gently, seconds after her cesarean birth.
During a difficult second labor, Lynn was there when I cried, "I have this ripping, stabbing pain in my side!" She hid her fear as she and Lisa, her nurse assistant, whisked me to the hospital and prepared Rick for the possibility of an emergency c-section. The c-section wasn't needed, and Lynn and Lisa were at the foot of my bed, cheering me on and hugging Rick, when our son, Brooks, greeted the world.
Shortly after my first child's birth, at a holiday party, someone had asked about my "midwife experience." Before I could answer, a woman nearby said in a low voice, "She didn't make it." She meant I'd had a c-section, but she said it with such conviction that I reached to check my pulse. Someone else said, "So much for that midwife thing. Guess you won't do that again."
I thought about Lynn holding my hand during my first appointment as we listened to that tiny heartbeat, and again nine months later in the operating room. I thought of the picture we have of Lynn holding Corrina, only seconds old. That midwife thing? I knew I'd do it again. And again and again.
I have faith that my midwives will find a home in Pittsburgh. Maybe AGH will see how important the center is to the 1,000 women who feel they have no other childbirth or gynecological options. If not, how sad for the hospital.
Having talked to several clients, I have no doubt that most of the 1,000 women will follow the midwives wherever they go. How empowering for those six special women!
Jennifer Kissel is a writer living in Reserve. Her e-mail address is jenthurber@aol.com. 