By diane leutgeb munson
In the endless unknowing of hospitality, we find ourselves in incredible situations. When we choose to build relationships, be it with guests, friends or family, we knit ourselves into a web of discovery and pain and occasional chaos hoping that our mutual love and respect for one another will carry us through. Sometimes that love not only carries us through but also floods our lives so completely that we are changed to the core.
Muffy has been a part of my life for a few years, dancing in and out of our homes as a teenager with her parents. Her striking beauty and depth of character have always been her mothers’ pride. She and her family rejoined our household this past spring, at which point she was well into her first pregnancy. Working towards finishing her senior year of high school, Muffy was determined to learn all there was to know about pregnancy, labor, delivery and parenting on top of math and social studies. As a community, we fell in love with Muffy’s baby long before she went into labor, and we decided early on that we would be a part of this journey with her to whatever extent she would let us.
As her pregnancy progressed and her world continued to be shaken with the uncertainty that has long followed her, Muffy made more explicit requests about what lay ahead. She wanted to live with us (namely, Becky) before and after the birth of her child; she needed help getting to some doctors appointments; and she wondered if I would be a part of the birth of her child. She had heard that I am interested in being a doula and was looking for more support during the labor and delivery of her child. I was ecstatic, to say the least, as were we all, to know that we would be able to welcome another generation of a family we adore.
The final weeks of Muffy’s pregnancy were challenging for a number of reasons, in addition to the fact that it was mid-July and quite warm. She moved back into the Dan Corcoran House a mere week before giving birth, leaving many of her belongings at her former apartment. Her mother was lucky enough to receive time off of a new job in order to rush back to Winona from Illinois for the birth. Pre-labor contractions lasted for nearly a week, sending Muffy and her mother and I to the hospital 10 days in a row. Yet it is true that many things become trivial upon seeing a child be born!
At 2:15am on July 23, 2008, we welcomed ShaNiya to this world. Muffy did an amazing job throughout labor and delivered as though she had been waiting her whole life to do just that. ShaNiya greeted her mother quietly, with an air of patience about her. Their personalities seemed to mirror one another, even from their first encounter. Grandma Robin switched swiftly from being a birth coach to officially announcing the new arrival to all relatives, despite the early hour.
And there I stood, soaking it all in. On the tail of the flood of emotions that comes with witnessing your first birth, I paused to contemplate the place in which I stood. I stared at Muffy, glowing in a way I had never seen- who could have thought that she could be more beautiful than ever after labor and delivery? I watched ShaNiya carefully, conscious of each person who touched her and what they did. Indeed, I felt a little bit like a new parent myself, sure that I did not know what to do, but not confident that someone else should be doing anything to that child without my permission. I listened to the cell phone conversations with relatives and realized that I did not know anyone on the other line, and yet I was the person standing in the room with this new mother and baby.
Then I thought briefly of how it was I came to be here, now. After all, I live in a men’s house of hospitality. I feel much more comfortable living with adult men with mental illness, addiction and extensive criminal records than I would living with small children. Yet, here I stood, with a young woman, her mother and her baby girl, surrounded by attentive female nurses and a midwife. At 3:00am it all seemed just a bit ironic and almost funny, and there was no place else I wanted to be.
I learned only after the birth of ShaNiya that another former guest had invited members of our community to be present at the delivery of her first child. A number of people with whom she had connected during and after her stay at the house were able to attend the birth. She and her two children now eat dinner at our table regularly. With gratitude, those very community members who helped to welcome Uyen (pronounced ee-an) into the world have been able to watch her grow for over 12 years now. As she celebrates her birthday this fall we all give thanks for her life and the energy she brings to our houses.
Over the years we (meaning the dozens of us who have been live-in volunteers) have had the sincere joy of developing relationships with many, many children and their families, a handful from the time of birth. Loving children who live in perpetually precarious situations is a painful job. This community has seen a generation grow up and have children of their own- there are numerous women who lived with us as young girls that visit us with their own kids in tow. We are grateful that the overwhelming joys of birth and youth seem to lighten the intense burden that meets many children on their first day of life. And we yearn to continue to shoulder even a portion of that load for the young ones in our lives.
Witnessing the birth of a child is a life changing experience. There is no purer love than that of a mother and father for their newborn child and there is no more feminine an act than giving life to another. Beautiful as it is, birth is punctuated by pain, fear and doubt, feelings that only continue when you hold a life in your hands and realize your responsibility for this person’s safety, care, education, etc. Perhaps the most poignant element of my participation in ShaNiya’s birth was that all of us involved came home to a community that embraced us in our ragged and elated states and took some of the weight off.
Muffy and ShaNiya will undoubtedly continue to weave their lives in and out of this community and of my life. They will rejoin us at the house this fall for a time and there will surely be stiff competition for time with baby ShaNiya. Muffy will always have a home with us as she always has. ShaNiya will always hold a place in my heart because I watched her take her first breath, and because this community knit itself into her web of life long before she arrived.