I stopped her at a natural parenting meeting the night I went into labor with Gray. I took my very first sling with me and asked her how to use it. I had already planned another hospital birth, but I knew if I had another baby, it would be a homebirth and Lynda would be my midwife.
The moment I found out I was pregnant with Ivy, I called her immediately. She was the first person I told. Later on I'd change my mind and decide to go with my OB and have the baby in the hospital. But then (as she secretly predicted) I changed my mind back and wanted to have my homebirth. To this day I still think it's one of the best decisions we ever made.
I was so nervous, calling her and asking if she'd take me back. And she said I knew you'd be calling me again. Then I had to break up with my OB.
I listened to everything she told me. During one of my last visits with her, before Ivy was born, she shared her story. Her Story. About how she lived in Texas as a young girl and in highschool had a friend who became pregnant and was sent away. She went to visit her and met the "granny midwives" that would soon teach her everything... and there she attended her first births and caught her first baby.
Ivy was number 1,631.
She was an old-school hippie midwife, which is exactly what I wanted. I felt like no matter what happened, she'd know what to do. She would show the boys all her tools and let them listen through her stethoscope. She showed me how Ivy kept her hand by her face in the womb. And I would hear her laughing about it in my head "she's already a drama queen!" after Ivy was born and she'd sleep with one hand posing on her face.
I am having a hard time understanding how just 9 and a half months ago she was right here in my home, here in my bedroom, guiding me through Ivy's amazing birth. She was alive. She was fine. She appeared to be fine. And just like that, she's gone.
Lynda passed away Monday night.
I see her every time I look at Ivy. It's so hard to truly describe how I felt about Lynda. It's like when you go through a dramatic event in your life and you will always remember who you were with at that moment. You will forever be bonded from sharing that experience. Or something like that.
She was so special, and more than the average special person. She gave so much. She asked for so little in return.
I am so honored and thankful that I had the opportunity to know Lynda. I hope that if you didn't have that chance, that you can feel her touch and hear her laughter and know her now through my words, and through my Ivy or one of the other many lives she put her heart into.
I regret not hearing more of her stories. I only have a small video clip from Ivy's birth, but it's just enough to hear Lynda's voice and see Ivy in her hands...
Everything is just covered in sad. It is such a tremendous loss. She can never be forgotten.
[There was already a fund set up for her, and I know her family could use every little bit, even one dollar. And I understand if you can't because I don't have anything extra to give as things are tighter than tight, but if you feel so moved, you can donate via PayPal, payable to firstname.lastname@example.org .]
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