As Orion Watched

By Cynthia Trenshaw
Web Exclusive

The constellation Orion was huge in the cold December sky. The Great Hunter looked down on the English moorlands and the little town of Totnes, overseeing the birth of my grandson who, four days later, would be named Orion Reed. Beneath the dark moon and the crisp canopy of stars, the house was warm, moist, and dim.

The living room was prepared to hold Katheryn's labor and to receive the child's birth: candlelight and warmth of fire, the dampness of the birthing pool (a hexagonal wood construction holding warm water to ease the pain of labor), the smell of incense, music, pillows and rugs everywhere. One set of curtains shut out the rest of the world, including the stars. Now was a time for inward focus, away from any but the eyes chosen to witness, to assist, and to bless this night. Another heavy curtain gave access to the kitchen: raspberry tea, homeopathic remedies, herbed water, Daverick's hidden stash of chocolate.

After Katheryn was sure she was in labor, the energy in the house had changed perceptibly. Our feelings of excitement, fear, tension, and joy were intensified as we each wondered how we would respond through the experience. Daverick began to make bread, and the scent of whole wheat and walnuts permeated the kitchen. We were glad for its sustenance as well as its scent; it was all any of us ate throughout the long night.

Around 6:00 p.m. Satya, the midwife, arrived. Her sparkling eyes and delicious smile said that, while this event was serious, it needn't be somber. Satya had not wanted to be the primary midwife, responsible for record keeping and attention to all the details and decisions; as Katheryn's friend, she far preferred to be in the supportive secondary role, focusing only on coaching the birth. But there was no other midwife available at the time, so she bowed to necessity.

Katheryn was already working hard, breathing, feeling the pain. I could read in her face that she'd begun to comprehend how intense this could be. Her look called up memories of the trapped feeling of laboring to birth my own children. But how different this was going to be--at home, not giving over the process or the power to strangers with stainless steel tools in hard fluorescent white rooms. This was going to be dark and mysterious, warm and firelit - and risky? I needed to consciously quiet my fearful heart.

Katheryn got into the pool after a couple of hours, kneeling for contractions, rotating her hips to help with the labor. Daverick encouraged her from outside the pool. When he got into the pool with her, I realized that the birthing might be even more intimate than the sexual union that had created this child in the first place. How privileged I was to have been invited to witness it! There was an awesome fullness of gender during the birth: the exerting male energy of Katheryn in labor (after the female receptiveness in conception) and the holding female energy of Daverick (after the exerting male ejaculation of conception).

Sally, an acupuncturist, arrived shortly before 10:00 p.m. She was experienced in birthing and could have served as Katheryn's second midwife. But because this was to be a water birth, there needed to be an attending midwife with at least three water-birth experiences under her belt; that midwife was Marjorie, who arrived around 10:30. Now the entire cast was assembled.

At about midnight a vaginal exam revealed that Katheryn had not dilated nearly as far as all her work would have indicated--a great disappointment. Her cervix was swollen, and she began to overheat. Marjorie suggested that she get out of the tub and lie on her side for a while. I was relieved to see Katheryn able to rest between contractions; being on all fours in the water doesn't allow for collapse in between, and even leaning on the sides of the pool between contractions can't be very restful.

Sally placed several acupuncture needles, by the sacrum and in the feet and hands, and Katheryn experienced some relief. I hovered at the edges of the birthing, not sure just where I fit in. I wanted to be right at the center with Katheryn. I felt jealous of the others, but knew that they had the primary roles. So I contented myself with prayerfully holding the space for everyone else. I brought tea, massaged shoulders, and encouraged each person individually. The few times I was able to take a turn coaching Katheryn's breathing were wonderful. Marjorie would say, "Not in your throat. Take your breath down to your cervix." It was clear that breathing into the cervix was much more effective than the natural response of panting or crying out. We all breathed and labored with Katheryn; but this was hers alone to do and to feel.

One advantage of being at the perimeter of the action was that I had a mystical perspective I might not otherwise have had. I became deeply aware of the dark interior of Katheryn's laboring body, inside the candle-dim dark of home, inside the starry dark of night. Womb within womb within womb.