A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

Because the women who need me most are often those with
husbands who show disinterest or inefficacy.
Shelby looks sheepish. She lets go of her ring. She rearranges
herself on her chair, takes a sip of her coffee, which I overheard her
order and know it’s not decaf. I don’t judge. I didn’t drink caffeine
when I was pregnant. But every pregnant woman is different. Maybe
a little caffeine is the one thing that gets her through the day. I’ve
seen a lot of women over the years. Single mothers. Women who’ve
been raped, but want to keep their baby. Women who choose to
abort a fetus based on the result of genetic testing. Being unbiased
is important. Every woman is not me.
Shelby shakes her head. Her hands are also shaking. Tiny ripples
form in her coffee, ruining the latte art. “I didn’t tell him I was meeting
with you,” she says. She’s nervous. There could be a million reasons
why. Maybe she’s just timid or is trying to impress me. Maybe she
feels badly about her husband or she’s terrified of the impending
birth.
“Oh?” I ask. I don’t want her to feel strange. I reach across the
table and pat her hand. Research shows the importance of touch on
a person’s emotions, their physical well-being, the way they respond
to others. Tactile stimulation is one of the most important.
I say, “That’s not a problem. It happens all the time, Shelby.”
“Really?” she asks. Only then do her eyes move to mine.
“Of course it does. It can be hard to get those men on board. It’s
not like they’re the ones pushing a baby out of their bodies,” I say
with an empathetic smile. Across the table, Shelby visibly relaxes.
“After we talk,” I tell her, “you can talk to your husband and decide
what you want to do. How far along are you?” I ask.
She says, “Thirty-six weeks.”
Most of my clients come to me newly pregnant. Rarely do they
come at thirty-six weeks. She tells me why, how she and her
husband just moved to town. She had an obstetrician she loved, but
now she’s two thousand miles away. She also had a close family, a
large support system, but now they’re gone, too. In essence, she’s
alone with the exception of her husband.
I tell her why I became a doula. I tell her about my experience
giving birth to Leo. What I remember is that the hospital staff didn’t