It Runs in the Family Read Online Free PDF Page B

more in the kind of time my Uncle Dan has always inhabited, that of the artist, the contemplative, with an open and listening heart.

OOF. OUCH. OOH. THE PAIN AND EMPOWERMENT OF BIRTH
    A s part of preparing to give birth, I asked my mom and mother-in-law to describe their birth experiences for me and for Patrick. These were good stories to keep in mind as my body was swept into the strong but unsteady current of labor. All I could do was surrender to it. I was born in the basement of Jonah House, in my mom and dad’s bed. It has been seventeen years since I’ve been in that room, but as I listen to my mom’s story, I can still see it clearly in my mind’s eye. The concrete floor is covered with a patchwork of carpet samples—different colors, textures, and patterns. There is a wood stove and a neat pile of kindling and logs. The utility sink and washing machine are next to the windows, which overlook a tiny backyard crowded with roses, a sandbox, a big woodpile, and a collection of trashcans.
    My dad’s rocking chair sits next to the bed and an assortment of ladders hangs from hooks along the bare brick wall. When they are not being used by the Jonah House painting crew, the ladders are makeshift shelves for Mom and Dad’s strange collection of liberation theology books and mystery novels— Marx and the Bible leans against Death of an Expert Witness .
    When my mom found out she was pregnant, her doctor friend told her to go home and have a celebratory drink. It was the ’70s, after all. Then she went to see a gynecologist, but she hated that experience, so she started looking around for other options. My parents were friends with Paul and Naomi Mayer, Catholic peace activists from New Jersey, and Naomi was a midwife. Mom went to see her and asked if she could help them give birth. Naomi said Baltimore was too far from East Orange to be practical, but the two women communicated throughout Mom’s pregnancy.
    Mom eventually found Coral Gordon, a Mormon doctor, midwife, and mother. Coral was solid and not pushy; she began doing home deliveries to support Christian Scientist women who would not go to the hospital to give birth. She believed that since women have been giving birth forever, it is the most natural thing in the world to do at home. When she came to visit the house for the first time, she was happy to see that Mom and Dad had a real bed, not just a mattress on the floor; Coral was short and squat and being low to the ground was bad for her back. She was also happy that they did not plan on filming or photographing the birth. She wasn’t into that.
    Mom and Dad did not go to birth classes, but they practiced breathing exercises together. Dad was the coach. They read books, talked to friends about their experiences, and learned as much as they could.
    In the months leading up to my birth, they both avoided getting arrested. They didn’t want anything to get in the way of both of them being free and together. There were other people living at Jonah House at the time, but Mom and Dad made it clear that they wanted to do this together, and everyone was very respectful of that. They were ready.
    Labor started around midnight. Mom’s water broke and her contractions began. Throughout the night, my dad helped her stay centered and breathing. She didn’t remember it being too painful or scary or strange. She’s very matter-of-fact as she relates the tale.
    Labor continued through the night, but they did not call Doctor Gordon until around six in the morning. “The doctor came in the morning, checked out our progress, gave me an enema, and said she’d be back in a while. She came back and you were born at about 9:20 in the morning.”
    “Do you remember being scared? Or it hurting? What about the enema? Was it gross?”
    “The enema—I wouldn’t recommend it. I don’t think they do it anymore. I don’t remember fear or pain…not really. The most memorable thing was your dad. He was awed by the process, by