Archive Jan 27, 2009: Welcome to the world Delia Cosmina!

Nicoleta called me at 3:30 pm yesterday with news that her water had broken. She and her husband told me their plan was to drive to the edge of Bucharest, park and then take a tram the rest of the way to the hospital. Outside there was a steady drizzle and the city lights were enveloped in a foggy haze. I packed white scrubs and shoes, my ticket into the maternity ward, grabbed a cup of steaming hot coffee and ran out the door.

I squeezed in with other subway commuters packed into the metro cars, crossed mud puddles which resembled lakes, and finally arrived at CFR II hospital. I have always found it a challenge to find a place to change into my scrubs so I scurried down the stars to an abandoned basement corner. Imagine my surprise when the closet door behind me opened and out walked a shriveled old woman with a floral kerchief wrapped snugly around her head. She told me to keep changing. "Don't mind me. I am just living down here. Sometimes it gets hard with all the wild dogs that wander through but...." She took my hand in her wrinkled one and showed me the closet that she called home where she had a small cardboard box, blanket and hot pot. I realized that this was a divine appointment. We shared about God and I assured her that I would visit her anytime I came to the hospital for a birth.

After many frightening wrong turns I finally found the new, remodeled, maternity section which had been moved since the last time I attended a birth at CFR II. I felt at home as I kneeled, prayed, and rested with Nicoleta as the familiar patterns of birth welcomed me back into their presence. Nicoleta made the transition from outward excitement to inward focus with ease and confidence. Her breath was even, deep, peaceful and reflective of the live giving force within her body.

Italian opera arias crackling from the radio and an occasional burst of laughter from the nurse's station were the only sounds which penetrated our quiet darkness in the labor room.

By one o'clock in the morning Nicoleta was in heavy labor. She swung her hips and began to feel the urge to push. The doctor calmly sat on one side of her with her arm resting on Nicoleta's leg. I sat on Nicoleta's other side and savored the distinct lack of monitors, shots, and medical interference. I knew this was simply a lull but I soaked up the energy created by this ancient, life bearing experience being shared among women.

Within moments, florescent lights were flipped on and Nicoleta was told to "run" to the birthing room. Seconds later she was using every last energy reserve and pushing her baby into the world. At one-thirty am Delia arrived with a tiny cry, as if to reassure her mother, "I am here!" After straining to see her daughter, Delia leaned back gently against the bed. She looked at me, her eyes sparkling in victory. I squeezed her hand and we both smiled.

One less woman has birthed alone in Bucharest....