Let the adventure begin...

The first midwifery supply most student/apprentices purchase is a watch with a second hand. Why? Because one of the first skills you learn is counting out fetal heart tones. Eventually you learn what normal sounds like and can pretty accurately determine what the heart rate is without counting, but even seasoned midwives pull out the watch when they detect a variation from normal. I held back tears tonight when I opened a gift from "the boss" and saw: 

It's a familiar tool; the comforting ticking in the darkness, the reassuring overlapping rhythmic thump-thump beating heart of a baby soon to be born. 

As I begin my first year as primary midwife under-supervision I will do so surrounded by mama and baby duos who will teach me many things, new and old preceptors and colleagues who will share their wisdom and serve along side me, the voice of "the boss" echoing in my ears, and with the weight of a familiar tool in my pocket grounding me. 

I'm ready for this adventure. 

Happy place...

The shores of Lake Michigan, the copper-bottomed clear water of Presque Isle, the porch swing of a children's home in Guatemala. Being surrounded by the concrete walls of a church in the Philippines, the holy moment as a baby emerges and takes it's first breath, the sacred space of the head squeeze, wrapped in the love of a friend's hug, trust. Walking into the unknown with head held high. Bravery of others trickling down. The dusty earth caking my riding boots, the wind. A chapel surrounded by a stained glass cloud of witnesses. Miracle babies. 

Words spoken and written, giant bathtubs filled to the brim with bubbles, the sweet smell of a sweaty baby head laying on my chest, wrapped in soft colors. laughter, dancing with abandon, the rare runner's high, Tires. Slurpees on a hot summer's day, tears, prayer-answered, unanswered, and unspoken, a church organ, the drum beat, naps in the sunshine, warm rains. Singing loud. The weight of mercy. The depth of grace. 

Words

It's crazy how a kind word can bring you right back to that HS freshman longing for approval. Tonight I am grateful for my teachers, who still encourage this nearly 25 year old.