Birth and everything that follows

This week has had a strong life and death theme. A first year medical student at our school died unexpectedly, leaving his family, friends and our entire medical community in shock. I had never met him, but he seemed to have had a positive effect on an extraordinary number of people in our school and the grief here is palpable on the entire campus.

On the same day that we had news of this student's death, a good friend of mine delivered a healthy baby girl, 8lb-13oz, in a home tub, with midwives and her husband at her side. She had a remarkably fast labor -3 hours from start to finish- and she and her husband have been giddy and glowing since. Baby Claire was born into a wonderfully loving home and I'm very happy for her whole family.

And then there's been the rest of my week: 24 hour shifts on the maternity wards in a county hospital in the central valley. I've done two so far: Friday and Sunday, with the days in between to drive home, sleep and drive back down again, and my next one is tomorrow. I have no idea how many babies I've seen born - more than a dozen, and I've delivered probably 4 or 5 with some help from the midwives. I've also been to three C-sections, and assisted the surgeon on the last one.

Delivering babies is something that I have always seen as a benchmark in medical school. Once I am able to deliver someone's child, I'm really on my way to becoming a doctor. Don't ask me why, that's just one of those assumptions I keep discovering I've always had when they suddenly creep up into my consciousness.

So is it nasty? amazing? the miracle of life? Um, not really. It's kind of cool, though already getting old. It's a bit messy, but doesn't at all gross me out. It's stressful and there is an art and skill to it that I don't have and would be unlikely to get over the course of six 24 hour shifts this month.

Labor -for those who missed the memo - is horrendously painful. I think that it is pretty much the final proof that men who still treat women as though they are delicate creatures are complete idiots. I've seen men with kidney stones wimper and scream, but passing a little stone through your urethra really does not quite compare to 7 hours of painful, exhaustive and shearing contractions, followed by the actual act of tearing open your pelivs to deliver a cantalope through your ripping vagina. On my first day of L&D, I saw three women have second degree tears (google it if you don't know what I'm talking about.) To all teenage girls out there: get some fucking birth control, you do NOT want to go through this right now.

Granted, there are some cool things about birth. The baby comes out still, covered in goop (somnetimes poop), bloody, wrinkled. You rub off the goop, suction the mouth and the baby suddenly startles to life and starts to cry. That's a great moment.

I want a child or two one day, preferably my own, but --fortunately for my career-- the last few days on labor and delivery have delayed any thoughts of pregnancy until these vivid memories fade.