Eselyn: Part III
Where last we left off, I just discovered that my grandmother had been a Certified Nurse Midwife soon after her death. This was prior to me starting Midwifery school and shortly after my academic path in nursing school. The revelation of this information makes the vision of midwifery for my life more comprehensive and extremely sacred.
To be fair not knowing that my grandmother was a CNM makes sense. From what I can recall, and remember being told, she practiced ‘all sorts of nursing’ in the Islands and continued the same way in New York. As I was growing up, I only knew her to be a Registered Nurse working in a hospital. I knew that she immigrated, as many islanders do, to provide a better way of life for her family. She got licensed, worked, settled finances, bought a house in New York with the help of her sister (also a Registered Nurse). When that work was established, she then sent for those waiting—her husband and children—to come to join her in the new way of life she prepared.
This is just a piece of my story. Funny how someone else’s story can build the foundation for our own. This is now me—a portion of who I am. I'm a Midwife. I'm a Registered Nurse. It is in my blood, pumping through me every day. It is more than just my desire to do this. It is my calling. A vision sent specifically for me. I’ll share in upcoming posts how I even got to be an RN, which is a whole other account and detour of its own.
One first memory I’ll never forget—attending my very first birth as a student midwife. It was on a dreary day, uncommon for my neck of the woods in sunny California. My preceptor was close behind me. I walked into the room boldly (because you should always go confidently!). We got to work, watching, aiding this mama doing her thing, and it felt so unbelievably natural to me. I don’t remember being completely nervous. I do remember telling myself that this was what I was meant to do. I had a chance to glance out of the window in the room, amidst all that was going on, and it had started to rain. The room was so calm. And then—it was a boy! We finished up and the rain stopped. I asked the mom, 'what is his name?' NOAH. God is funny like that. If you study anything about the Bible, you know who this man was. Noah—a name coinciding with rains and floods and then the gift of a rainbow- a sign of promise. The name meaning 'rest and comfort'. This precious new life was born in the rain with his name already picked. How could I not be tickled and reassured? I took that as God's promise to me that, yes, this is for me. Midwifery, caring for women, for people, for my community—this is what I am meant to be doing. Don't get me wrong I still have days where I think 'how did I get here and who told me this was a good idea?' But what strikes more is the service. Providing a voice, advocating, comforting, empowering, crying with, loving on, and fighting for these people and their families. This is the 'work' I GET to do! I am privileged and honored to do so. Midwifery is not new let's be clear (another important post for another day). I am honored that this torch has been passed down to me through bloodlines; to gift me as one of many (but not enough) who do this sacred work. I am so thankful. I am indebted. I wear this task, this gift, with pride.
My grandmother was Eselyn Amelda Francis Perry. She was a midwife. My name is Aiyana, which means eternal bloom. I am a midwife amongst other things. I am proud to share my story. Let's journey together.
Welcome again to The Vagina Chronicles.
Writer's Note
The original draft of this post was formulated on the evening of December 3, 2017 into the wee hours of the morning. Ironically (although not so), it was birthed the night of a super moon. I wrote until I could not write any more and when I was done I had the above post (well parts I-III). Around 0630 on December 4, 2017, the very next day, I received a text message from my aunt with a photo of my grandmother and her CNM counterparts. My mouth dropped. She then proceeded to tell me that she could not rest that night (she is three hours ahead) and was going through my grandmother's things. The things she wanted me to have that had been set aside. I dialed my aunt so fast and began to tell her my plans, what I wrote about the night before and what I want to do-my VISION. My aunt recounted my grandmother knowing that I was going to be an excellent nurse and midwife before I passed my first semester in nursing school. Then came the tears.
At each interval of my life God and the Universe send me reassurance. This time was like no other. As if to say 'keep doing what you are doing'. That was one powerful moment. To wake up and see the very books and exams my grandmother used in her training for midwifery after writing feverishly about it was, no doubt, a sign of things meant to be. This highly emotional and powerful moment was too big for me not to share. Again, along this journey we go. I can't wait to see where it will take us.
My grandmother’s midwifery class, in Antigua sometime between 1930-40
