Babies know how to birth and women knows how to give birth!

For fourth one weeks and three days I had watching her pregnancy – my sister’s pregnancy. With it, there was a great wish to break a taboo that is in society (something so common in other times): the natural birth. During all that time, she studied about the subject, its benefits and also its arbitrariness. Yet, she remained strong with her choice.

By choosing the natural and humanized birth, she faced, at beginning, her husband (my brother-in-law), which over time realized how beneficial it would be for the child who would come and for her; at the end, he realized how beneficial it was for him too. She gained support and encouragement from her brothers and sister, who understood that that desire it was not a simple “fad”, but a deep desire to give her child what he (Isaac) deserved, to provide him a calm arrival.

She also had to hide her choice. Not by selfishness but by protecting her own desire – the natural birth is seen as something freak, and the humanized birth is seen as something insane and wild. From beginning to end, she faced it all.

Keeping her choice, she researched a lot about the issue; she hired a doula – one that provided physical and emotional support throughout the pregnancy and childbirth process; she hired midwives – currently known as obstetricians, who were absolutely important in labor, providing an amazing structure whitin the family environment. Thais, my sister, realized she would not be helpless and could proceed with her choice until the end – or beginning.

Soon – or not so soon – she found that the baby she was carrying in her womb was a boy. It was Isaac. And more happiness came from then. Studies about the humanized birth were never-ending, and not just part of her, but also by the husband and we – brethren. We always talked about it. And we yearned for the arrival of Isaac.

Near the end of pregnancy, about the thirty-ninth week, it was asked an ultrasound for her. When she arrived at lab, asked her how many weeks she was; answering what was asked her, immediately they rebuked her for being there, and not in a hospital. On examination, she was diagnosed with low amniotic fluid, placenta in level 3 – maximum level of maturity – and an outstanding circular cord – when the umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby’s neck. It made her upset.

As my brother-in-law was at work and away, we (myself, my husband and my other sister) arranged to pick up the car and take her to another lab to do another ultrasound; there, unlike the first, she did not mentioned anything about the pregnancy time, and not on the result of the previous examination. The doctor who attended, took the exam; result: no circular cord and an adequate amniotic fluid level.

We were excited with the result, but appalled by the system. System, this, by cesarean interventions. According to the Brazilian Ministry of Health, 2013, normal births in the Brazilian SUS (National Health System) account for 63.2%, while the percentage of natural births in private hospitals reaches less than 20%. On that account, Brazil reaches the top of the world ranking of cesarean interventions.

The problem is that many of those interventions are unnecessary – scheduled for the birth in specific day, comfort for doctors and parents, not to suffer pain; or by manipulation of doctors that induce the mother to choose the intervention, by placing dozens of obstacles that, if studied, do not prevent anything for the natural birth.

In Brazil, the cesarean interventions are the priority and the appointment of doctors, while the natural birth is considered the abnormal. And what happened to my sister proved that that system exists.

After the worry, it began the preparations for the long-awaited moment – the baby moment, because he would come whenever he wanted to. And it was that way. Prodroms – the “pre-labor”, when contractions are very irregular and far between, but preparing the pregnant for the labor – started around the thirty-seventh week and lasted until the forty first week (four weeks of irregular contractions). But Thais keep strong. Although warned about the problems of other people watching the childbirth – as the delay to engage in labor –, she wanted, even then, my sister and I watching it.

On Tuesday night we were warned she was having contractions less spaced. That night, we can’t sleep. At 5h30 on Wednesday we went to her house – I, photographer, and my sister, watcher. We spent the whole day there, helping with my brother-in-law (Fábio), and the doula – which had an endless participation in that process. We exchanged naps to help her and to score contractions; but it was not that time. At 2h00 on Thursday, the midwife – who had been called to check the progress of the process – asked us to go home, as this (our presence) was making the labor difficult for her (Thais) engaged indeed in labor. So we left it.

The Thursday was of anxiety. All the time with the mobile in hand, waiting for a message or a call; but nothing – we had forgot that it was Isaac’s time, not ours.

On Friday morning, my sister – who waited anxiously like me – sent me a message saying that Thais already was nine centimeters dilated. Shortly after, at 15h00, she called me and said that Isaac was born. I saw nothing in front of me, what I did was put on my shoes and go out from my house; we went to her house. Once there, we find the two midwives and the doula, and thank them so much for everything; we saw blood stains on the kitchen floor, bags with dirty cloths and bloodied paper, and all the equipment of the midwives – properly safeguarded not to let the mother and the baby in troubles in an emergency. We went to the room.

In the soft light in bed, Thais was lying; in her lap, Isaac slept, wrapped in a blanket. Fabio, my brother-in-law, watched the two, and you could see in his eyes the satisfaction of that moment.

I hugged Fabio and congratulated him on having been strong since the beginning of pregnancy and having supported my sister in her decision. He cried, said that really wanted me and my sister there at the birth time, but we said that we had no problem, we were there in thought, because we understood the grandeur of the situation and how the moment was for both of them (the couple). I kissed Thais and congratulated her on having been so strong, too.

Finally, I saw Isaac.

When I looked that little prince, my eyes filled with tears. I remembered the endless strength of my sister during all the suffered contractions. I wondered, if my emotions and my satisfaction were so long, they would be greatly satisfied; giving birth at home, in the comfort of your home, feeding at the time you want to, taking a shower when you want to, dressing in clothes that you want to (and if you want to be dressed), having the company of each other at all time, being in the best position for you, staying in the room with the light that you feel most comfortable. It is incredible! It is, in fact, reborn. Isaac could stay there, next to his mom, for all the time. Fabio could get there without having to stand in anguish to wait her back to the room, or spend hours without eating. We, the family, we were able to visit and see them all together, without waiting for another visit out of the room.

I am not saying that the cesarean intervention must be banned, because it is totally useful – but when it is required. It is useful in emergencies where no option for it can cause the baby or the mother’s death.

But I tell you that everything must be rethought; that the natural and, who knows, the humanized birth need to be known by all those who want to have children. Everything is fine, and I think it was in a hospital could not have been so – no unnecessarily.

Women need to rediscover the strength and the ability they have. They need to be supported by society, not judged. No more fear, uncertainties… Let’s look to the future and rediscover the past!

It is like we have been hearing throughout pregnancy, and we concluded at the end: “Babies know how to birth and women knows how to give birth!”.

Tale: The Fruit of Knowledge

Night was cold. A damp and frozen wind flowed through the bedroom. I rose to close the windows that was still opened. While closing the window in the living room I realized something out there. Way up high, in the Twin Hills, there was someone wandering from side to side, beneath the Holy Tree.

            Then, shadow stopped. It was too dark to be able to see, but it seemed like it was watching me. I felt my neck crawl. It was like a little sigh on my back. I glanced back, stunned, but no one was there. It was just a bad impression. When I got back my gaze to the Twin Hills, the shadow was gone. It was just the Holy Tree and its branches and leaves swinging with the strong wind out there.

            I closed the curtains and came back to my bed. While I was lying under the blankets I felt a brief scent. It was cedar. Probably, it came from the Holy Tree. I drank a sip of ginger tea and turned off the light.

            It was a eternal silence.

            I couldn’t hear nothing but the inner buzz, as when all is quiet and your ear attempts to find a sound. I closed my eyes. Finally, my body yielded to tiredness. At least I believed I was sleeping. I started to see a shining light from the kitchen. Immediately, I thought I was dreaming. I stood and walked to the light, which turned off as I approached. I got scared. That had never happened. I’m not sleepwalking.

            While I was returning to the bed, I felt the scent again. It was cedar. I opened the window in the living room and took a look to the Twin Hills. The wind didn’t swing the Holy Tree. So where would have coming the smell of cedar?

            In order to my terror, someone knocked at the door while I was thinking at that night. I tensed. It was after two in the morning and I didn’t expect visitors. I remembered the shadow that was wandering in the hills. I ran back to my bedroom and locked the door. But they kept knocking on the doorway endlessly.

            I unlocked the bedroom door and took the first thing I saw ahead of me. By the way, it was an umbrella. I walked slowly and silently to the living room. I asked who was knocking at the door, but nobody answered. I asked again. There was nothing. So I sat on sofa and stayed there. The smell of cedar intensified. Along, a burning smell spread through my home. I ran to the window in the living room and understood what was happening. The Holy Tree was on fire. Someone had begun a fire in that giant tree. Its branches were burned and falling as its leaves were drying.

            Whoever was outside my home went back to knocking. This time, impatiently. It looked like my door would fall anytime. No one answered me. Determined, and overwhelmed by fear, I opened the door. And there was nobody there. Nobody. I put my head out, looking side to side and I didn’t find a trace that someone was there. I took my mobile and dialed police. As soon as they answered me I told that someone had burned the Holy Tree, and the attendant was startled. She said that I should call the firemen, so I explained that that wasn’t the only reason for my call. I told that there was someone knocking on my door and it was hidden out there. She was saying something when the line went dead. I tried to dial again, but my mobile wasn’t getting signal. I tried by my desk phone, but it wasn’t getting signal too. I tried to turn on my notebook, and it didn’t turn at all.

            I got desperate and started to cry for help.

            I was watching the tree dying every second. It was distressful. And I was supposed to die too, depending who was out there. I cried like a child. So I saw the fire wipe off like a magic. Then it began a storm. The burning smoke was going up and mixed with the damp wind rain. It was a scary landscape. Again I heard someone knocking at the door. I didn’t hesitate. I fetched a knife in the kitchen and walked to the living room. In front of the door I opened it thoroughly. There was a middle-aged-man. He had a goatee and dressed winter clothes. His eyes were staring into mine as if he was trying to see inside of me.

            I asked shakily who were he and what he wanted from me. He smiled. It was a nice smile, but the smile was carrying a secret. He started to enter in the living room, so I lifted the knife, by threatening him. He smiled again, pointing to the window that overlooked the Holy Tree and staring at the remains of ancient tree. Finally, he said something. He said that was nothing compared to what he could do with all his power. My shoulders tensed by the fear. But he said he would do nothing against me because I had already done. I asked about what he meant. And he smiled one more time. I felt an urge take over my arm and threw the knife I was holding against his chest.

            In order to my surprise and panic, nothing happened to him. He kept smiling and at that moment I realized that it was an evil, wicked smirk. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who he was and neither what he wanted from me. I didn’t know what come next and I had no idea what direction my life would go later that night. I asked again who he was.

             This time, he answered me. But I wished never had to heard him.

            “I’m that one who never speech lies. I’m that one who just wants to be between mankind. I’m that one who wants to be human, and for wants it I was thrown from my place next to my father.” He answered me. That wasn’t a joke. Those eyes didn’t joke. Next thing I knew I was down in tears. I cried as seeing death ahead and not want to die. I cried as who loses the parents. I cried as who cries when you’re lost. And he stood there smiling and watching me.

            I asked for the last time what he wanted from me. And he answered me. He said he wanted to show me the truth. And he said he was the truth, and not what all mankind seems. He said he never took the life of someone for mere show of power, not even to punish or to satisfy his own ego. None of that. His actions were just out of revenge. He would act revengefully to the end, when he could return to his place and tell to his father that all he wanted was to be loved like the humans were loved.

            Then, I noticed how silly I was to question him and wanted to know about him. My life was changed thereafter. He was gone before I could ask or say anything else. He just disappeared. I never saw him again.

            But I still feel him. I feel his presence like never felt before.

            Now I got a swirl of misunderstandings inside my mind. My life was damned since then. Now I know the truth. I know both truths. And I will carry it with me till the rest of my life, trying to know what is the really truth. And it consumes me. It distresses me. Some days I wish to die just to be sure that this man was being truthful or not.

            I was overcome by the desire to know the truth. I was overcame by the knowledge.

Intro

Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit São Paulo, city in southeastern Brazil.
Júnior Gonçalves is a young writter, born September 9, 1991, student of Translation and Interpreting (English / Portuguese) from the FMU - Faculdades Metropolitanas Unidas.

The blog, derived from the original in Portuguese "Abra a sua mente", is a portfolio of Júnior's writtings. Here you can read stories, reviews and other texts created by Júnior.

I hope you enjoy what you will read around here.

Thank you!