My sister, her husband and her two girls moved into a large rental home with me, my husband and my daughter. That situation lasted for almost a full year, though it ended rather badly.
Then, my husband and I gave away nearly everything we owned, changed our names (this is when I became Ocean Song, now over 10 years ago...), packed up our tipi and our Volvo station wagon, and headed out in search of a community we could settle down in. That trip lasted about 6 months and ended with me and Faerin moving in with my mother and me divorcing my husband.
I became re-involved with Faerin's biological father and we spent 6 months trying to get him a business loan so he could do what he loved. When the money finally came through it was only a quarter of what we needed to start a healthy computer business (despite repeated promises that it would be more). Frustrated and homeless, we used the cash to move out to Michigan's west coast, where life was cheaper and far more beautiful. We conceived our first son in a tiny cabin on a large lake during a month of record snowfall (there wasn't a whole lot to do around there ;).
We didn't manage to establish the business we'd dreamed of. Our landlord got tired of our tales of customers who wouldn't pay and our options dwindled. Despite our better judgement, we moved from our beloved Michigan coastline and into an unfinished house in Kentucky during my 7th month of pregnancy.
I found a home birth midwife in Kentucky. She lived on a small farm in the mountains and I drove the 40 miles through a stunningly beautiful landscape to see her twice. The first visit was mostly paperwork and tea. I was delighted that I'd found a local wise woman when the official word in Kentucky was that there were no lay midwives around anymore.
On my second visit, I discovered why lay midwifery in Kentucky has such a bad reputation. My "wise woman" decided I needed a pap smear and pulled a plastic speculum from a cabinet and tossed it into the sink with the teacups and saucers before asking me to strip down. I was expecting far more sterile conditions and my fear of germs convinced me to refuse the pap smear, keep my clothes on and leave as quickly as possible.
Driving back down the mountain I realized that, not only was I was done with this midwife, I'd had enough of living isolated and exposed to the elements in Kentucky in June. I called my sister and she drove down to "rescue" my 4 year old daughter and myself and bring us back to Michigan. I was starting my 8th month of pregnancy, she was "due any day" with her third daughter. It was trip peppered with frequent potty breaks and complaints of badly swollen ankles, but we made it home intact.
We got back to Michigan and I stayed with my sister, her husband and her 5 daughters (3 of them fostered) in their double-wide single story manufactured home. I wasn't going to have a home birth this time around either as there was barely room to sleep, much less birth, in between children.
My sister had her daughter nearly three weeks after I arrived. Once she was back home and settled in, I felt like I was finally "allowed" to have my son (I'd had the standard 20 week ultrasound while still in Michigan and had recognized the baby's sex on the monitor even before the technician did).
