I admit: I’m an iPhone junkie. I keep mine within reach 24/7 and use it all of the time. I’m on facebook while in line at the grocery store. I text while waiting at red lights (yes I know its illegal) and view incoming emails the moment my phone buzzes– even in the middle of a dinner date or darkened movie theatre. It’s rude. I know. I’m missing “real life” by interacting with digital friends instead of the people around me. I get it. Really I do. But I’m going to keep doing it.
If 
I were an obstetrician I would LOVE the new app from Airstrip OB, the one that promises the ability to “be there from anywhere.” Just imagine – I could monitor multiple women in labor while home with my kids, taking a walk or cooking dinner. No mess. No fuss. I could stay away from labor and delivery until it’s time to cut or catch. The appeal is undeniably irresistible – just think of the freedom!
But will it last? Will this game-changing app provide overworked obstetricians (96 hour workweeks are not uncommon) reasonable working hours? LOL – no! OB’s work hours were determined long ago, back in the days when they handled a quarter of the patients that they do today. Freedom-promising technology never delivers for obstetricians. This app, like ultrasounds, electronic fetal monitoring and Cytotec will allow administrators to pile higher patient-loads onto every OB. By “freeing them” from labor and delivery, OBs will be forced to manage twice as many patients resulting in twice the stress for OBs and twice the profits for administrators.
How many mothers-to-be can one obstetrician connect with in a year? How many faces and stories and plans and hopes and dreams can she remember and connect to? That’s how many patients an obstetrician should manage. Not. One. More. Without this connection, mothers-to-be are nothing more than cogs in the machine.
About Roanna Rosewood
For as long as I can remember, I wanted one thing: a baby. The eldest of five children, I got plenty of hands-on experience. I knew how to change diapers, rock little ones to sleep and feed babies. But nobody told me about birth. I assumed it to be no more than the unfortunate means-to-a-baby. It wasn’t until I was in full-on labor that I glimpsed the power of birth. Almost as quickly as I did, they rushed in to “save me,” to relieve the pain and cut my baby from my body.
When it was over, I had a beautiful baby boy but had lost a part of myself.
I began to crave birth.
I battled for my birth right for four years. I endured two Cesareans, fought three doctors, two midwives and endless inner demons before achieving a home birth.
It was the single most pleasurable moment of my life.
Let me say that again: giving birth was the single most pleasurable moment of my life. And I live a pretty pleasurable life. I’ve galloped on horseback through high mountain deserts, been sailing around the Caribbean and diving with dolphins and giant sea turtles. I’ve purchased perfume in exotic markets in Cairo and ridden a mechanical bull in a Colorado bar. I laugh, cry, knit and dance with the most-wonderful of girlfriends a woman could have. My closet is full of fabulous clothes and sexy boots. But none of these things has brought me as much exquisite pleasure as giving birth to my daughter.
I have accomplished “important” things. I am the mother of the three incredible children. I’ve worked and volunteered for non-profit organizations, mentored and taught children and women and traveled to Northern Uganda to assist survivors of war give birth. I own businesses, invest in real estate and have had the privilege and responsibility of employing hundreds of people. But none of these accomplishments has been as empowering or life-changing as giving birth to my daughter.
Twenty years ago, while watching blood drip down my own freshly-sliced wrists, I chose to put the razorblade down, embrace life and face my fears. To this end, I’ve parasailed off of Alaskan mountains, fire-walked on hot coals and watched my life flash before my eyes as my lungs filled with water. But none of these moments terrified me as much as giving birth to my daughter.
I’ve experimented with psychedelic drugs and met an angel in a tunnel of blue light. I’ve explored ancient Myan ruins and the depths of a pyramid. I’ve chanted with priests, davened with rabbis, danced with Sufis, sat with Buddhist monks, sweated with shamans, studied with psychics and accepted a gift from a kahuna. But none of these experiences brought me as close to The Divine as giving birth to my daughter.
I live a juicy, passionate and engaged life. But I am not content. My heart pulses a message much more important than my own small existence: Women are strong. It proclaims. Birth is our rite, our connection to The Divine. Living this, speaking it and writing it is my purpose: an endless war-chant coursing through my veins and pouring through my fingertips to you.
I were an obstetrician I would LOVE the new app from Airstrip OB, the one that promises the ability to “be there from anywhere.” Just imagine – I could monitor multiple women in labor while home with my kids, taking a walk or cooking dinner. No mess. No fuss. I could stay away from labor and delivery until it’s time to cut or catch. The appeal is undeniably irresistible – just think of the freedom!