The
Midwife
“Oh, Zoe, I'm so
happy for you!” Kristen exclaimed. She sat forward and took Zoe's
hands, sharing an excited smile. Her smile faded as she braced
herself for the answer to her next question, as she always did. “So,
have you contacted your OB?”
Zoe's eyes shifted
to the side. She leaned over and turned her phone off. Kristen's
spirits rose immediately. This was what she was always afraid to hope
for.
“I'm not filing
an Intent to Birth,” she whispered. Really, there wasn't any need,
but people feared what could happen if they were caught talking about
a natural birth. It wasn't allowed.
“You understand
the risks, of course,” Kristen said, lifting her cup of tea and
drinking. Zoe nodded, taking a drink of her own tea.
“I don't want to
move to Norway,” Zoe said. “I don't like the cold. And my whole
family has lived here since before the American Revolution. I
shouldn't have to move just to have a baby,”
“I agree,
obviously,” Kristen said. “I thought you might feel that way when
you told me you'd applied to have your birth control system removed.”
“I had heard
that... that you know of a midwife,” Zoe said softly.
“Oh, yes,”
Kristen said. “I do.”
Zoe looked at the
piece of paper with the address on it and double checked it against
the number on the house in front of her. Part of her was so afraid
that she wanted to run. Then she imagined the alternative, and she
found the courage to knock.
“Now, I can't get
in trouble, right?” Zoe asked. The midwife smiled. This was usually
the first question asked of her.
“If you do not
enter into an Obstetrical Contract, you won't fall under penalty of
law if you deliver out of hospital. All of the risk is on me. If you
tell anyone about what I do—”
“Oh, I would
never do that!” Zoe said, taking her hand. The midwife patted Zoe's
hand comfortingly.
“I know, dear,
and we'll go over all the possible scenarios where you might need to
transfer care later, along with stories to avoid culpability. But if
anyone were to discover me, I would be arrested on charges of felony
medical infringement and face a sentence of five to thirty years.”
“That's
ridiculous!” Zoe snapped, her face flushing with anger.
“I know,” the
midwife said with a sigh. “When my grandmother had my mother, women
still had a choice in where and how they gave birth in most states.
When my mother had me, women still had the choice of how. It's only
been twenty years since the Mandatory Cesarean Act passed, and the
population is already down ten percent.”
“Ten percent?”
Zoe whispered.
“Well, Population
Control would really like to see it drop another ten percent,
but with it still illegal to perform any invasive procedure without
written consent, they're reduced to fining people for having more
than two children per couple. And then, of course, there are loophole
kids.”
“Yeah, my husband
and I aren't comfortable with that,” Zoe said. “We've talked
about it, but we're really okay with two children. While it's unusual
for a man to challenge for custody, it's been on the rise lately with
black market adoption rates going up.”
“There's a bill
in the House trying to eliminate that practice,” the midwife told
her, “Although it's unknown if it will pass.”
“How?” Zoe
asked.
“It provides that
a man who sues for custody cannot put his child up for adoption. If
he's found to have done so, he faces a twenty-thousand dollar fine or
even more. The problem is that Pop Control is fighting it because the
way things are now lowers the number of loophole babies for the exact
reason you stated.”
“Wow. Well, if it
passes, maybe we'll reconsider.”
“Even if it
doesn't, there's a loophole to that problem anyway. Right now,
a man can sue for custody of his child and automatically win if two
or more children are already present in the home. However, if
you have your loophole child before you have biological children or
between your one allotment and your husband's allotment, he won't
win.”
“I never even
thought of that!” Zoe exclaimed, laughing. “That's brilliant!”
“I should warn
you that if you need to transfer with your second child, you will be
required to choose a permanent birth control device,” the midwife
added.
“Is there no way
around that?” Zoe asked.
“Some
obstetricians are willing to do a five year survival clause in their
OC, to provide that you aren't required permanent sterilization until
your youngest child reaches their fifth year alive, at which time,
you have a year to sterilize,” the midwife offered.
“That's sick!”
Zoe protested. “It's like some kind of morbid warranty.”
The midwife nodded
sympathetically.
“If you choose a
vasectomy, you have two options still. If you're willing to pay the
third child fine, you can try to conceive immediately, as soon as
your husband feels up to it. After all, it takes vasectomies a while
to take. That also leaves you open for a loophole baby. Of course, if
you transfer during a loophole birth, many OBs make you sign a
hysterectomy release for your c-section,” the midwife warned.
“This just all
feels so wrong,” Zoe said. “Why is Norway the only place in the
world, except for tribal areas, to not make birth into a legal
situation?”
“According to my
grandmother, it started out small. A few states criminalized
midwifery when it was on the brink of becoming socially acceptable.
OBs fought hard—buying studies, skewing outcomes—to prove that
midwives were dangerous to mothers and babies. The cesarean rate was
rising every year and then the ACOG gave the green light to start
Obstetrical Contracts, which women were required to sign to use the
practice.
“Originally, it
was to guarantee exclusivity. The woman couldn't transfer care, but
she knew exactly the care she would be getting. It didn't seem like a
big deal, since that matched OBs with mothers who wanted their kind
of care. Then the standard of care started shifting. There were no
OBs that offered births without contracts, and then some hospitals
stopped having rooms for labor, advertising as 'c-section only.'
“Next came the
bill that legally defined childbirth as a medical procedure. That was
the beginning of the end. They used it by the same logic that got
midwives out of legal practice. Then came full practices offering
nothing but cesarean delivery. Then, the mandatory cesarean act was
passed. At this point, midwives were totally illegal and just coming
out to protest drew the attention of the law. So we faded into the
night. Women didn't want to risk being caught and trapped into an OC
or lead the law back to their midwives, so they were afraid to make a
lot of noise, too.”
“That's awful,”
Zoe said, shaking her head in outrage. “Why did Norway stay
separate?”
“They always
have,” the midwife answered. “So, do you wish to hire me?”
“What's your
fee?” Zoe asked.
“It's five
thousand for prenatals and birth.”
“That's it?”
Zoe asked, shocked. “It's fifty thousand to birth in a hospital!”
“Surgery is
expensive,” the midwife said with a shrug. Zoe sighed.
“Do you accept
payments?”
“Of course!”
the midwife said cheerfully. “And if five thousand is a real
hardship, we can work out barter if we need to.”
“Oh, no, I can
afford it,” Zoe said with a smile. “As long as it's not all at
once. How much if I have to transfer?”
“It depends on
how far you get,” the midwife said. “Usually, we detect the need
for transfers at five months, so that would be two thousand.”
“I can't believe
how cheap it is!” Zoe said.
“We aren't out to
make profit,” the midwife said. “Almost all midwives have some
kind of side business to live on. Now, what month are you due?”
“According to the
online calculator: October first.”
“Good, I don't
have any clients in late September or any time in October right now,
so I have no problem taking you.”
“I'm glad,” Zoe
said, visibly relaxing.
“Remember that
you cannot announce your pregnancy in any public forums, social
media, et cetera. If you get followed to me, I'll be out of business,
and you'll end up with an OB.”
“Got it,” Zoe
said. “Can I know your name?”
“No, I'm sorry,”
the midwife said. “But you may call me Ann. And of course, all
payments must be in cash.”
“Of course,”
Zoe agreed. “How many babies have you delivered?”
“I've caught
around three hundred babies,” the midwife answered. “I've been
doing this for twenty-five years. I started apprenticing when I was
sixteen. I was amazed when I saw my first vaginal birth.”
“How do OBs stop
women from having accidental vaginal births?” Zoe asked.
“All mothers are
sectioned at thirty-seven weeks, unless they show signs of labor
before that. That's why NICUs have to be so advanced. Many babies who
are supposed to be thirty-seven weeks along are actually thirty-five
and even thirty-seven weekers aren't always ready. Plus, just the
cesarean itself raises the risk to the baby's lungs and digestive
system.”
“Wait, you mean
pregnancy isn't thirty-seven weeks?” Zoe asked.
“Yes. Oh, you
didn't account for that?” the midwife asked. “I should have
asked. Silly of me. You'll actually be due October twenty-second,
then.”
“Wow, that's
almost a whole month!”
“It could be even
two or three more weeks after that,” the midwife warned.
“Really?” Zoe
exclaimed.
“You'll be most
likely to go in almost November. Changing your mind?” The midwife
gave Zoe a teasing smile.
“No! No, I'm...
just surprised is all. I didn't know pregnancy was... forty weeks
long!” Zoe shook her head in surprise. “Even forty-two or
forty-three? I've never heard of that!”
“Oh, I've seen
two pregnancies that went forty-four and forty-five weeks
respectively,” the midwife said. “I was really nervous about the
forty-five weeker, but her baby, while a bit overcooked, was still
nice and healthy.”
“Do... do I have
to go that long?” Zoe asked, a small tremor in her voice.
“No, but it's
better to let your baby decide when it's time,” the midwife
explained. “If you get really uncomfortable and go to forty-two
weeks, there are things we can do to tell baby it's time.”
“Oh, good.” Zoe
stood up and the midwife stood up as well. Zoe offered her hand and
the midwife took and shook it. “Thank you, Ann.”
“You're welcome,
Zoe. That's what I'm here for: the truth. Unfortunately, that's
something most people are scared of anymore.”
“Oh, I'm scared,”
Zoe admitted, “but I want to do this.”
“I'm so glad,”
the midwife said. “Do you have an ereader?”
“Of course,”
Zoe said. “Why?”
“I have some
books that you should read. You don't want to go near most of the
books in the bookstores—they just focus on preparing you for
surgery and obeying your doctor. These are really old books from the
days back when women birthed vaginally seventy percent of the time.”
“I can't even
imagine that,” Zoe said. “I'll bring my ereader at the next
visit. It's been a pleasure meeting you.”
“It's been a
pleasure meeting you, too. Have a happy and healthy nine months,”
the midwife wished her. Zoe shook her head in amazement. Nine months!
Everyone else she had ever met had always said eight months, except
grandmas, who didn't talk much about birth at all.
Maybe they knew as
little as she had. She was amazed at the knowledge that time could
steal and the cleverness of humans in preserving old information
thought to be lost to time. Now if only that wisdom could help her do
what she believed her body had to be capable of doing.
She hoped that the
ability to give birth hadn't been bred out of her. Zoe supposed
Population Control would be happy if it had. Sometimes she wondered
just how far they would go to maintain their quotas.
Now that she knew
more about the statistics, more than just a fear of surgery drove
her. No, now it was a duty. A service to the human race, to remember
that biology was as important a science as technology. It only made
sense that she, as a biology student, was part of a movement to prove
it.
She only hoped that
some day, she could share her knowledge with the world that so
desperately needed it.
