The birth buddy

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on pinterest

This summer I had the extraordinary privilege of witnessing a baby being born for the first time.

(Technically, I was present when my own children were born, but I’m not counting those because I was in The Zone. The Drug Zone first time, the Pain Zone second time, the Hypnobirthing Hippie Zone the third time – but that’s a story for another day. Those in The Zone aren’t witnesses, they are warriors.)

This time, though, I was the witness, and witnesses get to wear funky hospital hats.


Through a series of extraordinary events, my friend had to have an emergecy c-section just hours after her husband left the country on a business trip. While my friend’s premature twins were being born, their daddy was 30,000 feet above the earth, and I cried with joy and wonder as I held my friend’s hand in the OR and tried to hold the camera steady with the other.

It is a remarkable thing to be a doula for a day. As the birth buddy, I was right there when it all happened: I heard the doctor say “happy birthday” as he scooped each baby into this world. I saw the vernix on their skin, heard their first cries, smelled their little heads. I had not contributed anything: it wasn’t my body, they weren’t my children, and it all could have happened without me – and YET! oh YET! Yet I had the humbling privilege of experiencing it all. A front-row seat to the miracle of life.


In hindsight though, perhaps it was not quite the first time I have been a birth buddy.

A few weeks ago I was being interviewed about discipleship and the one-on-one mentoring relationships I have had over the years. I shared about how, when meeting with women, it was my habit to suggest we read the Bible together: casually, over coffee, like a book-club. When meeting with new friends who were investigating Christianity, we would always read one of the gospels and talk about the main character, Jesus.

My memory flew back to sitting under a tree with Sharon, reading John’s gospel, and how she described herself as standing in front of a line in the sand, with Jesus calling her to step over the line to join him. She told me she was about to step over that line, and as we sat under that tree on a Spring afternoon – I was right there when it all happened.

Years later I had a weekly coffee date with Denh and the gospel of Mark. We talked and talked and laughed and wrestled through chapter after chapter of Mark, and then one night I was in my kitchen stirring spaghetti when she called and told me she could not avoid Jesus any more. I whooped with such wild excitement that I splattered sauce all over the ceiling and as the tomato dripped to the floor I laughed – I was there when it happened.

The new birth. Being born again: scooped into eternal life and hearing the Father say “happy birthday”. Again there was this strange and wonderful tension. I did not make it happen: it wasn’t my heart, it wasn’t my convincing, and it could all have happened with out me. and YET! I had the extraordinary privilege of having a front-row seat to the miracle of eternal Life.

I think being a birth buddy ranks among the greatest privileges and joys of my life. Even if I have to wear funky hospital hats.

Leave a Reply:

13 thoughts on “The birth buddy”

  1. Loved the switch from the excitement of the twins’ birth to the joy of being “born again.”

    1. Thank you! (Funny story, someone today found my blog by googling your name (although the misspelled it)… And this comment came up as the top hit 🙂 I love how the web can make everything feel so close by.

      1. How very interesting!
        You may find more people responding to your blog in the future, as I wrote a Round Robin letter to friends in the UK, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and Namibia. I recommended my favourites of your blogs to them, and suggested that they read all your contributions!

      2. I was also interested in the fact that you said that someone googled my name but misspelled it.

        Unfortunately, I am used to people spelling and mispronouncing my name, so I am always thrilled when folk DO “get it right!”

        When I was an Infant School teacher, I always made sure that I spelled and pronounced all my pupils’ names correctly, as I felt it was so important.

      3. I agree – getting people’s names right IS important. It is a primary way we show we have noticed and respected people as individuals. p.s. The google search was for Deidre Pineo 🙂 oh the fascinating things you discover from blog stats……

    1. The twins are doing great – thanks for asking! Their super hero mama has nursed them from 3 and 4 pound teenies into 8-9 pound chubsters in just two months 🙂

  2. I got to witness a birth this past August- the first I’d seen other than my own-and like you said, it was amazing. I didn’t think I’d want to look, but I watched the whole thing and LOVED the miracle of it all. Made me want to become a “real” doula someday.

Comments are closed.

Recent Posts

Friend Bronwyn on Facebook Add Bronwyn on G+ Follow Bronwyn on Pinterest Image Map

Never miss a post!

Enter your email below to stay up to date with new blog posts and my monthly newsletter.

Bronwyn Lea

©Copyright 2019

Photo credit: Christa Norman, Mel Draper Photography, and Jonathan Summer