A SMALL CITY OF CHILDREN is a fictionalized narrative memoir of the life of Karen C. Parker, Midwife. The story begins in 1972, a turbulent time of change in the country and the world of maternity care was no exception. A Small City of Children follows Karen’s career as it evolves from educator to apprentice to home birth midwife and on to becoming a certified nurse midwife and academic teacher.
Her story unfolds over the course of 50 years and the reader discovers the surprising spiritual insights Karen received while engaged in her work. In the background, the culture of childbirth in America was changing but not before she was arrested and vilified for her work. At times deeply emotional, sometimes frightening or even hilarious, the families and their births tell the tale.
You are invited to come along for the story of Karen’s journey and decide for yourself what the newborns were trying to say.
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My mother used to brag about me to anyone who would listen. It didn’t matter who it was, the grocery store bag boy, the woman behind the hotel desk, or a restaurant server. In her introduction of us she would point out that I was a midwife then nudge me with her elbow and say, “Tell him how many babies you have delivered… go ahead, tell him!” She would then pause expectantly and nod, having captured the attention of whomever she was talking to. Obligingly, they would look at me, expecting an answer. Some seemed interested, but most were only being polite. I would roll my eyes and in my long-suffering voice dole out the number in the multiple thousands. There was always an eyebrow raising from the listener and my mom would then delightfully point out, “That is a small city! A small city of children!”
It took years for me to just accept these exchanges as inevitable and stop rolling my eyes. To stop trying to be humble about what I have accomplished in my career and stand in a place of awe instead. And when that happened, the door opened for me to share what I have learned throughout my 45 year career. It is not possible for a human being to be present at so many thousands of births and not be spiritually impacted by this. The same is true for those amazing persons who sit with the dying as they exit. It is an absolute privilege to hold this space as human-kind begins and ends their physical journey.
At the time of this writing, my mother is barely present with severe dementia. Yet recently, as we cuddled on the couch, when I thought she had fallen asleep, with her eyes closed, she whispered, “I’m so proud of you and all that you have done. Keep it up, keep it going”.
I am no longer in practice now and I had to think about how I could do this. And so I listened, and the way became clear. I am my mother’s daughter and so to keep it going, I would like to tell you about what the newborns have taught me.