I’ve never really cared about the Mormon pioneers. I’m not descended from any. My parents are converts. I’ve never lived in Utah and so July 24th has never been a state holiday. Just like all the others who crossed the plains in wagons and pulling handcarts, what they did was admirable, but I’ve never felt like it was such the incredible thing some make it out to be.
Then I had my first homebirth almost 2 years ago. I suddenly felt a little more of a tie to those pioneer women who had babies along the way. For them, “home” was a wagon, a tent, or even just the side of the trail. I gave birth and stayed in my comfy bed in our air conditioned apartment with plenty of food. The pioneer women gave birth and often had to keep right on going on their way.
Now I’ve had a second homebirth and again I am grateful for my circumstances that allow me to recover in my comfortable bed in my air conditioned townhouse and eat whatever I want whenever I want. I really respect what those pioneer women did. I’m really glad I was not one of them. I still don’t get all into the pioneer thing like many others I know do, but at least I care about them a little more.