Nativity Revisited

This is my Christmas story offering from a midwifery/birth point of view. I have been reading The Scientification of Love by Michel Odent (and, in fact, am actually only four pages from the end). It is a very good book with a lot of interesting ideas in it. Tuesday I was sitting at the chiropractor's office waiting for my turn and I read Interlude 3: Nativity Revisited. Wow. Really, very cool. I would like to share it with you.

Until now the image of the Nativity that has come down to us has usually been restricted to a birth in a stable, in the presence of an ox and a donkey. My version of the Nativity is inspired by what I have learned from women who have given birth in privacy. It has also been inspired by 'Evangelium Jacobi Minori', the protogospel of James, the brother of Jesus. This gospel was saved from oblivion in the middle of the nineteenth century by the Austriean mystic Jacob Lorber, who wrote Die Jugend Jesu (The childhood of Jesus).

            According to these texts Mary had complete privacy when giving birth because Joseph had left her to find a midwife. When he returned with a midwife, Jesus had already been born. It was only when dazzling light had faded that the midwife realised that she was facing an incredible scene: Jesus had already found his mother’s breast! Then the midwife said: ‘Who has ever seen a hardly born baby taking his mother’s breast? This is an obvious sign that when he becomes a man, this child will judge the world according to Love and not according to the Law!’

On the day when Jesus was ready to enter the world, Mary was sent a message—a non-verbal message of humility. She found herself in a stable, among other mammals. Without words, her companions helped her to understand that on that day, she had to accept her mammalian condition. She had to cope with her human handicap and disregard the effervescence of her intellect. She had to realise the same hormones as other parturient mammals, through the same gland, i.e. the primitive part of the brain that we all have in common.

            The environment was ideally adapted to the circumstances. Mary felt secure and, because of this, her level of adrenaline was as low as possible. Labour could establish itself in the best possible conditions. Having perceived the message of humility and accepted her mammalian conditions, May found herself on all fours. In a posture like this, and in the darkness of the night, she could easily cut herself off from the everyday world.

            Soon after his birth, the newborn Jesus was in the warms of an ecstatic mother, as instinctive as a non-human mammal can be. He was welcomed in an unviolated sacred atmosphere and was able, easily and gradually, to eliminate the high level of stress hormones he had produced while being born. Mary’s body was warm. The stable, too, was warm, thanks to the presence of the other mammals. Instinctively Mary covered her baby with a piece of cloth she had on hand. She was fascinated by the baby’s eyes and nothing could distract her from prolonged eye-to-eye contact with Jesus. Gazing at each other like this would have been instrumental in inducing another rush of oxytocin, so that her uterus contracted again and returned a small amount of enriched blood from the placenta along the umbilical cord to the baby; and soon after, the placenta was delivered.

            Mother and baby could feel quite secure. Mary, guided by her mammalian brain, stayed on her knees for a short while after the birth. After the placenta was delivered she lay down on her side with the baby close to her heart. Suddenly Jesus began to turn his head from one side to the other, opening his mouth into a round O. Guided by his sense of smell, he came closer and closer to the nipple while Mary, who was still in a very special hormonal balance and still behaving very instinctively, knew how to hold the baby and made the right sort of movements to help her baby find the breast.

            This is how Mary and Jesus transgressed the rules that had been established by the human community. Jesus, as a peaceful rebel who defied convention, was initiated by his mother. Jesus spent a long time sucking vigorously. With the support of Mary he was able to emerge victorious from one of the most critical episodes of his life. In the space of a few minutes he entered the world of microbes, adapted to the atmosphere, separated from the placenta, started to use his lungs and breathe independently, and adapted to the force of gravity and differences in temperature. Jesus is a hero!

            There was no clock in the stable. Mary did not try to time how long Jesus was at the breast before he fell asleep. During the first night after the birth Mary had only a few bouts of light sleep; she was vigilant and protective, and anxious to meet the needs of the most precious little creature on earth.

            In the days that followed, Mary learned to recognize when her baby wanted to be rocked. She was so in tune with him that she could perfectly adapt the rhythm of the rocking movements to the demands of the baby. While rocking, Mary started to croon tunes, and words were added. Like millions of other mothers she had discovered lullabies. This is how Jesus started to learn about movement and, therefore, about space. This is how he started to learn about rhythm and, therefore, about time. He was gradually entering a space and time reality. As baby Jesus grew, Mary began to introduce more and more words into her lullabies and this is how Jesus learned his mother tongue.

Odent, Michel. "Interlude 3: Nativity Revisited." The Scientification of Love. London: Free Association, 1999. 124-26. Print.

Isn’t that interesting? If there were more than seven minutes until time to start school for the boys, I would offer some thoughts about this but they will have to wait until later or another day. In the meantime, feel free to ponder this.

Birth is Beautiful!

Good evening! The internet is being difficult today so I thought that I would write a bit here since I haven’t for a few days and because I have something to say for the other blog (this one). Fairly recently, I had a doula shift and when I called in was told that there was a Cesarean scheduled as well as an induction. Mind you, I’m not really telling you this and the only reason I am is because, well, you’ll see. Or read.

I fully meant to be there not later than 7:00 because I haven’t yet had the opportunity to be present for a Cesarean and would like to. Everything was going pretty well: I had Amena’s lunch made, the dogs and cats were fed and watered, I’d showered and was getting dressed. I was almost ready to go and Amena knocks on the door and says that she must have missed the bus. She was out at 6:25 and the Stanley boys across the street weren’t out so it must have already gone by (which is odd, because NO one heard it). Oh, dear! I finished dressing and we left. We didn’t catch up with it until it stopped by Hale Road and then there were three cars ahead of us. It isn’t likely Amena could have run up to the bus before it took off so she didn’t even try. There were no other stops (other than for stop signs) until the school so we were stuck driving the whole way. Not in my plans. Still, what was done was done and the best we can do is accept it and take responsibility for it.

So I went home and ate breakfast. Paul said he would call in and work from home so I didn’t have to get the boys to Joanna’s; she could come over whenever and help them with their work. She ended up taking them to her apartment and Paul had a nice quiet day. And I went to the hospital. Very late, but I did arrive.

I saw Karen on the way in and she mentioned a twin induction. Twins! Wow!

I was there in time to see the baby born via Cesarean. Nice looking baby; daddy was obviously pretty happy. I went in to introduce myself as the doula and was told, very nicely, that they did know about doulas but really didn’t want one because they had a good thing going.

That really is fine. Some do, some don’t. Some say no when they really ought to say yes, some say yes when they really ought to say no. Some don’t care. I am fine one way or another and said that I’d check in from time to time to see how things were going and that is what I did. I did get their recovery room ready and showed dad where it was.

The nurses got the OR ready for in case. I think the plan was for her to deliver there because you never know (this is hospital mentality, mind you, not what I necessarily believe) what might happen when dealing with twins.

I got quite a bit of knitting done but that came to an abrupt stop when chaos erupted. And chaos only erupted because the woman had requested an epidural after initially saying she’d like to go without. The anesthesiologist got up in record time but before he could do anything, the nurse thought she’d better check to see how things were progressing (I really like this nurse). She did and baby A was born! Less than ten minutes later, but after the doctor arrived, baby B was born! Oh my goodness! No time to move to the OR.

The only reason I am telling you this is because I wish every woman who is pregnant, has been pregnant, or may become pregnant, could have witnessed this woman in labor. The only noise I heard coming out of her room was the murmur of quiet voices and louder laughter. When I did step in to see how things were going, she was very relaxed, usually sitting in a rocking chair and she was up moving around quite a bit just going to use the toilet. No lying in bed, no complaining—just letting nature take its course. When things got intense enough that she wanted something for the pain or discomfort, she was ready to deliver. It was just incredible to behold even though I really didn’t get to behold it from the same room. She was right; she and her husband did not need a doula, they had a very good thing going on and it was beautiful. Even though I didn’t get to see it up close, I am so glad that I was at the hospital and was able to witness what I did.

I wish more people could see what I did; could understand that birth does not have to be filled with fear of the unknown.

I also tell you this because I know that there are hospitals in this country in which this woman would not have been allowed even a trial of labor. In many, maybe most, she would have been scheduled for a Cesarean. I am so glad that she was able to give birth where she did, in a place where she was able to not only attempt, but succeed in giving birth vaginally to twins. I wish that this were possible in all hospitals.

Have a great day, and tell someone that birth is beautiful!

Pushed Plus a Wonderful Birth Story

As for Pushed, oh my goodness. Just a big wow holy cow unbelievable . . . . There were times during reading that I had to stop and process what I had just read. Taking this book in context with our society today at large and I am inclined to say that we are doomed. I don’t have the time and I don’t want to take the space to literally quote the entire book but I would definitely recommend it for reading if a) you are interested in such things, b) you are pregnant, are thinking of becoming pregnant, or know someone who is, c) you have ever been pregnant, d) are alive. Seriously.

Regarding epidurals: when woman has an epidural, typically she cannot feel anything from the waist down. This rather puts a damper on any major movement. Because the woman cannot feel anything, including pain, she is not able to respond to it and therefore are more vulnerable to injury (Block p 173). If you cannot feel the heat from the stove, you are more likely to touch it and suffer the consequences of doing so. If you cannot feel how coached pushing is affecting you, you are more likely to do and suffer the consequences of doing so.

I had no idea (but was not surprised to learn) that Massachusetts was the first state to make midwifery illegal in 1907 (Block p 216). Isn’t that interesting?

On page 217 we learn that “it has never been scientifically proven that the hospital is a safer place than the home for a woman who has had an uncomplicated pregnancy to have her baby.” This according to a statement in 1985 from the World Health Organization. Try telling that to most doctors and nurses.

Did you know that the state of Virginia actually mandated what position women should give birth in (Block p 247)? Are you freaking kidding me? What state has the right, responsibility, or knowledge to make such a declaration?

This is just good: “...all obstetric patients, are told, in essence: you can give birth here if you don’t go too far past your due date, if your water hasn’t been broken more than a few hours, if your baby is head down, if your baby looks small enough, if your pelvis looks big enough, if your cervix is dilating fast enough, if you’ll wear this monitor and stay in bed, if you’ll have some Pitocin, if you’ll let us break your water, if you’ll lie on your back and push when we tell you to push (Block p 261).” Yeah, pretty much.

Chapter 8, Rights, begins telling the story of three women. One, in 1996, wanted to have a VBAC. Her doctor at first said okay but then redacted. Not being able to find anyone who was supportive of her wishes, she and her husband decided to give birth at home, unassisted. Then she began vomiting and recognized that she was becoming dehydrated so they went to the hospital for some IV fluids. The hospital basically said, “If you’ll have a c-section, we’ll give you an IV; otherwise, forget it.” So a couple of sympathetic nurses bundled her and her husband out before the doctors could corner her. At home, they were confronted by the sheriff, the state attorney, a sheriff deputy, and an EMT squad. They had to take her to the hospital because a judge had issued a court order. So she was strapped by ankle and wrist to a stretcher and taken to the hospital. She and her husband locked themselves in the bathroom for a time and tried to push the baby out but she wasn’t dilated quite enough and she ended up with another cesarean without being provided with an attorney or giving consent (Block pp249-51).

The second woman showed up at the hospital with her husband to give birth to their seventh baby. An ultrasound indicated that the baby was too big but in spite of the fact that her babies were all large (including one at 12 pounds, 4 ounces) and born vaginally, the doctor said nope. They went to a different hospital. At the second hospital they went through the same thing but the attending doctor didn’t tell them to go to another one; instead the hospital was preparing paperwork and petitioning a judge for custody of the baby which was granted. Before the order could be executed though, they took off to another hospital where she “pushed out a perfectly healthy 11 lb, 9 oz baby girl, with nary a tear (Block pp 251-2).”

The third woman and her husband found an OB who would support a VBAC. However, he was not available when she went into labor. She labored at home as long as she could before going to the hospital where things progressed normally and quickly. The OB on call was paged and he announced that he was going to do a cesarean after which he injected something to stop contractions into her IV. Finally, the woman’s OB showed up and saved her from the section but did feel necessary (but asked her permission first) to cut an episiotomy because she was not able to push (Block pp 252-3).

Wow. Just wow. Compare to the following:

In spite of being excited to tell you Mally’s birth story, I’m somewhat hesitant to as well. I think this is because birth is an extremely personal experience. Not only that, but I have to rely on my memory of what she told me. Anyway, it is such a good story.

As I mentioned a few days ago, Mally and I sat together at Kim’s bridal shower Saturday and talked shop, so to speak. She was somewhat concerned approaching the end of pregnancy because this time she knew better what to expect whereas with Juliet, she was going in blind. We all do, don’t we? Even if we have witnessed birth or taken classes before giving birth the first time, we really don’t know how we are going to deal with the whole process; we really don’t know exactly what to expect. With Juliet, she said that they really went to the hospital too soon and this time she’d like to wait.

She said that she went home, and felt kind of crampy during the evening. Contractions began at a rate of about every 20 minutes. That would certainly indicate that things were beginning but not that birth is necessarily eminent and she thought that the baby would probably come the next day (Sunday). She did go to bed around 11 but by midnight her contractions started picking up and she couldn't sleep in between them anymore. That's when she knew she was truly in labor and baby was on his way. They went to the hospital at about 2:00 in the morning and she was already six or seven centimeters dilated. She asked about getting an epidural but her doctor mentioned that things were progressing nicely and that an epidural often slows labor down. Mally realized that if things slowed down, then Pitocin is more of a reality and so she did not get the epidural. The baby was born at 6:00 am. She did tear a little but, honestly, in my opinion having experienced a little tearing as opposed to a cut, I’d rather have a tear.

Mally mentioned that her mother never had any pain meds with her births and had told her that the pain of birth goes away once the baby is born. Mally was amazed to find that it is true. There are still after birth pains but the actual pain of labor and birth are gone once the baby is born. It is amazing how you can hear someone, someone you trust, say something but until you actually experience it, you don’t really believe it.

I think Mally is awesome and a wonderful example of what can be accomplished by a woman. I applaud her doctor, Rebecca Worden, for being honest.

(Honestly, we’d be going to the Worden’s if they weren’t so good but because they are, they are so busy they cannot take new patients—bummer for us.)

Block, Jennifer. Pushed: The Painful Truth about Childbirth and Modern Maternity Care. Cambridge, MA: Da Capo Lifelong, 2007. Print.

Alisha's Birthday, Revisited two days late

On Monday, May 12, 1986, I wrote: “It’s hard to believe that in less than two months (Alisha was supposedly due the end of June, beginning of July) [we] will have a little person to hold. It’s weird in a neat kind of way. We’ve got a baby now, we just can’t hold Baby yet. I imagine it will be hard at times but I think it will be worth it.”

The next day I wrote: “The baby is moving right now. It feels funny. It’s kind of like your legs feel after a hike in the hot weather and the blood is really pumping through your vessels only bigger. If you know what I mean. I had to get up to go to the bathroom about 4 million times because of Baby.”

On June 29, 1986, I finally wrote about the birth. “Saturday, May 31, I had the baby. She’s a girl and we named her Alisha Marie. I guess I had an easy labor. Everyone says I did. It was short, I know that much. I went to the hospital at two and went into the delivery room at three. At 3:24, I had a new baby and she let everyone know she was here.

“Alisha was 6 pounds (actually 5 pounds 15 ¾ ounces) and 20 inches. Last Wednesday she was up to 6 lb. 11 ½ oz. and still 20 inches. She lost to 5 lb. 6 oz.”

Friday, July 18, 1986, I wrote: “Having a baby is definitely worth all the fatness, lost sleep, and everything.”

Some things were not as I remembered. Mainly that we got to the hospital at 2:00 rather than the 3:00 I remembered.

I remember that contractions started sometime in the early morning. I’d been experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions and so I didn’t think much of those I was having this particular day. We’d spent the night at Fernando’s parents; I don’t remember if the plan was for me to stay there that day or to go home to Grandma and Papa’s but I ended up going home. Now that I think about it, that was most likely the plan because my mom and sisters were planning on spending the day there.

Papa was reading the paper or a book or watching television and I was sitting in the chair that I often did to work on homework. It was good for that because Papa had made it and the arm rests were parallel to the floor so I could put a board across the top and have a sort-of-desk. It worked well and I did lots of school work there. I wasn’t doing any homework this day, however. I’m not sure if contractions were getting uncomfortable or not but they were coming fairly often but I still didn’t have a clue what that meant. At some point, my water broke. I knew enough to know that that was a sure sign that something some happening. I looked at Papa and he looked at me and I said, “Uh, oh.”

Grandma was taking a bath and I went through the kitchen into the hall at the bottom of the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door. “I think we have a problem,” I said. I must have told her what had happened although I have no recollections of it. She said I should call the hospital and would wait for my mom to come. Then we’d go to the hospital. I called the hospital and waited for my mother. Becky and Marie stayed with Papa while Grandma, my mom and I went to the hospital. The road never seemed so bumpy as it did that day.

We arrived at the hospital at 2:00 (I am not sure why I always remembered it being 3:00). I hadn’t done any paperwork so that all had to be done before I could be admitted. It being my first baby and a good four to six weeks before the due date the doctors had come up with, they weren’t in any hurry. I wished they would but one of the women said, “Oh, it’s a good thing you aren’t in a hurry.” I remember thinking, ‘Who says we’re not?’

Once I was admitted, things are somewhat blurry. Dr. Saunders, the doctor I usually saw, was out climbing Mt. Shasta (can’t find fault with him for that—it was a beautiful day). Dr. Morris was available but he was the only doctor in the practice I hadn’t met. Now, I am not sorry, Dr. Morris was very good and I’m glad I had him rather than the other doctor in the practice that I had met but didn’t like.

They told me to go to the bathroom. I was scheduled for a cesarean section due to the fact that I had vaginal warts and the doctors weren’t sure if I’d be able to stretch enough to get a baby out. I think they hooked me up to a monitor and they must have done a vaginal exam because they were amazed at how far dilated I was. So far that it made the C-section not an option (which I now thank my lucky stars for). It being customary hospital practice to hook up an IV, I must have had one but I do not remember it if I did. I honestly do not remember if I had any pain medication. If I did have the IV, it would have been easy enough for them to give it. I remember Grandma calling Fernando and saying that if he wasn’t there for the birth, he’d have her to answer to. He made it. I remember that at one point he told the doctor that if it came to a choice between me and the baby, it would be me.

At some point, they told me to push. They told me to use the Valsalva maneuver (which I did not know by name then). I was supposed to hold my breath and push with all I had. I did. I don’t remember how many times I pushed but out came a baby and she squalled. I don’t remember Apgar scores; neither do I really remember anything much else. I do know that I had an episiotomy which must have been stitched up. Fernando stayed with me while my mom and Grandma went with the nurses to the nursery to clean Alisha up. I do not remember at what point they brought Alisha back but I’d fallen in love before the birth so it didn’t matter. I wasn’t the most confident mother, but I also knew that I could do what mothers for eons before me had done.

Now, looking back, I notice some things that I didn’t at the time. The pushing was overmuch. I don’t know why they have women push like that when it is not often necessary. I pushed so hard that I had broken vessels in the whites of my eyes, on my face, and on my chest. Why? Alisha wasn’t a large baby; great amounts of force were not needed. I also don’t understand why an episiotomy was done other than it was pretty routine at that time. Again, she wasn’t a large baby. Maybe, due to the amount of force I was exerting, I would have torn. If I’d have been having the kind of birth with her I did with Joseph, it’s possible there would have been no tears. Whatever the case, it happened as it happened and I had a new baby and she was my world.

This is Alisha taken in January of 1987

Swallowed by a Snake

Golden mentions that there is no cut and dry when it comes to grief and that we need to be prepared for the long haul. I have long contended that the death of a child is unlike any other and Golden validates this when he says that the death of a child is more like an amputation than a wound; that dealing with the loss of a child is more like dealing with the loss of a body part than a wound (Golden pp16-17). I agree.

This snake was in our garden a few years ago.

He also discusses gauging grief (Golden pp 19-21) and I found this discussion kind of followed what I’ve already learned. For example, when my dad died, although he was young (just 51) he was older than I and we expect our parents to die before we do. When Papa died, he was older than I and we expect our grandparents to die before we do. Daniel is my son and our children are not supposed to die before we do. This has to do with expectedness. When we are more attached, we tend to grieve more. I think that my sister, Becky, probably grieved more for our dad because I think she was the most attached to him. I think I my grief for Daniel is still very strong at times because I am still attached to him. Papa was my anchor in a storm-tossed sea. When a death is natural, the grief tends to be less fierce.

Golden made a great analogy (Golden p 42): “Grief is like manure: if you spread it out, it fertilizes; if you leave it in a big pile, it smells like hell.” I have found this to be true. Dealing with grief a little bit here and a little bit there keeps it manageable. If you keep it all bottled up inside or attempt to deal with it all at once, it really doesn’t work.

A quote of interest to me when discussing guilt is, “There can be a sense of wanting to join the person who has died, or there can be a complete loss of wanting to continue living (Golden p 68).” That is exactly how I felt when I was alone in that hospital room. How could life possibly go on without Daniel in it? And, yes, there is some guilt associated with the whole experience. However, life does go on and eventually, when the time is right, I will graduate as well.

There are some physical differences between men and women that go deeper than the skin. There are some physiological differences as well (Golden pp 73-74). I knew that at least in part from taking A&P. But I had never really considered what difference these differences might make not only in grieving but in the way we live our lives. For example, it is physically more difficult for a man to cry.

In the section “Men and the Hierarchy,” Golden discusses how men tend to a hierarchal nature, meaning everyone has a role and position, and women tend to work together all on the same level (Golden pp 74-75). Please remember that these are generalizations, not hard and fast rules. I thought this particularly interesting when using it to contemplate the whole equal-pay-for-equal-work battle in the workforce (and in life). Women tend to want to be equal and men tend to want to be best. Isn’t that interesting?

There is an activity that Golden explains called “Active Imagination” (Golden pp 94-95). I always thought and have often been told that I have an Active Imagination. And I think I do. However, I haven’t used it the way Golden talks about here. For one thing, he mentions that we can name our grief because once we’ve named a thing, we can own it. I’ve heard that before so it makes sense. He also describes having a conversation of sorts with your grief. For example, he suggests the following question: “Grief, what do I need to know about you?” This should be written down on a paper. The first thought or response that comes to mind, you also write on the paper. Then you respond to that with another question and continue on. I really like this idea.

Lastly for this discussion, Golden mentions the locus of control over the deathbed (Golden p 101). Like birth, which we have mostly lost to the hospitals and medical professionals, we have lost death. People used to die in their own ‘space’ so to speak, surrounded with things and people that had meaning and were important to them. This has changed. Just as birth has changed. And, really, aren’t they one and the same?

Golden, Thomas R. Swallowed by a Snake: The Gift of the Masculine Side of Healing. Gaithersburg, MD: Golden Healing Pub., 2000. Print.

Three in a Bed

We live in a society that decries abuse of children in any form: physical, emotional, verbal, economic, mental, or sexual. When we throw a child into his/her own bed in his/her own room, shut the door and ignore the subsequent screams, is this not a type of abuse? A baby is in relatively tight quarters, warm and snug, within its mother for nine months previous to birth. During this time, the baby hears the sound of mother’s voice, heartbeat, and any surrounding noise. At night, baby sleeps with mother. Suddenly, once born, the baby is expected to sleep alone, often in a separate room. The baby will ‘learn’ that no comfort is coming and will eventually ‘learn’ to sleep alone. But only after emotional, mental and sometimes verbal abuse. (Jackson p 35)

Mothers are taught not to trust themselves. They must give birth in the hospital because the doctors and nurses know better what to do and are more able to deal with complications should they arise. If parents dare to speak of giving birth outside the hospital, they are likely told horror stories of homebirth (I’d like to know where all the horror stories of hospital birth are).  Even when things are going well, well-meaning people can make comments that make a mother second guess herself or she might read something in a magazine article (or online), doctors make offhand comments, etc. (Jackson p 40)

Sometimes these well-meaning people tell new mothers that they will not get a good night of sleep if they sleep with their baby in the same bed. What very few people seem to know is that a breastfeeding mother normally does not sleep deeply; she is attuned to her baby and will be more likely to waken at the slightest noise. Since babies don’t sleep deeply and mothers don’t sleep deeply, it makes sense to sleep in the same bed. This way, baby will not have to cry to get mother’s attention and mother won’t have to completely awaken to fill baby’s needs. (Jackson p 72)

SIDS and mechanical suffocation are not one and the same. (Jackson p 90) Recent studies have suggested that babies who die from SIDS are actually predisposed to it and there is really very little that their parents can do to prevent it (Boston Children's Hospital. "Brainstem abnormalities found in SIDS infants, in all sleep environments." ScienceDaily. ScienceDaily, 11 November 2013. <www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/11/131111091733.htm>.). While reports of these studies point to brain stem issues, they all clearly warn parents against having the baby sleeping with them. Two things to remember are that mechanical suffocation happens much less often than SIDS and that it is avoidable (Jackson p 93).

It is interesting to note that in a sample of over 100 societies, “the American middle class ‘was unique in putting the baby to sleep in a room of his own.’ (Jackson p 121)” It is interesting to note that we, homo sapiens, have lasted so long when we have been warned against having babies sleep with their parents for only the past 150 years or so. We, as a species, should have died out long ago.

My oldest slept in a cradle near the side of my bed until she was six months old. When she woke up, I would bring her to bed with me and feed her and then return her to her cradle. For six months, life was pretty good. Then, because I was young and very susceptible to all of the well-meaning advice being shoveled at me, she moved to a crib in her own room. I didn’t sleep particularly well and neither did she. In fact, she often had night terrors. I would get her when she was screaming and she would calm down but life wasn’t as good as it had been. We tried nightlights and stories and teas and nothing helped. To think that simply bringing her to bed would have helped seems oversimple and yet I know it would have. It’s almost frightening that this issue of night waking is singularly a problem of the developed world (Jackson p 130).

An interesting quote regarding babies in bed when we make love: “It is that society does not know where to draw the line between ‘healthy’ loving, constructive, reproductive relationships—and violent, abusive, uncontrolled desire. (Jackson p 142)”

When it comes to weaning, Jackson feels that we belong to a ‘weaning’ society meaning that we are not capable of living in the moment, that we live instead to push members on to the next step whether or not each individual is ready for such (Jackson p 144). I certainly feel this to be true. We compare our children to the children of our friends and the children of celebrities. We now have Common Core which will ensure that our children are able to jump through the appropriate hoops at the appropriate time. What has happened to us?

Because we wean, we have tantrums. This makes perfect sense. If an individual is not ready to do something, he is not ready. An adult can communicate this; a young child cannot. However, because we wean, we blame the tantrums on heredity or genetics (one and the same, I think) and begin negative programming that will most likely never be overcome (Jackson pp 152-3). I was going to say that one thing that I do not agree with 100% is that holding breath is a version of having a tantrum. Daniel would hold his breath until he passed out and Daniel was generally a very happy baby. However, as I began to think about it, when did Daniel hold his breath? When he needed something. It wasn’t that he was being weaned, however, and it only happened less than ten times over a period of about twelve months. He would do it if he was tired, hungry, or was being watched by someone and did not have immediate access to me (happened once). If holding breath is a version of having a tantrum, it isn’t always. If holding breath occurs because a child is being weaned, there are other reasons as well.

I love this paragraph (Jackson pp157-8): “We adopted Jean Liedloff’s golden rule: ‘Never do anything for a child that he can do for himself.’ You could call it minimalist mothering.”

And here is some food for thought:

“Devoted care is out of date. Bring in ‘the machine that goes “ping!”’. It is ironic that in these days of high technology, a new mother is fobbed off with a list of rules that date back to the Victorians, from whom we have received our current taboos about co-sleeping. Not one good argument for the cot has emerged in a hundred years.

“Now is the time to revise our outlook. We know what babies need, and we know how to provide it. All the professionals have to do is stand back and let the mothers get on with it.”

If it was time in 1989, what is it now, a quarter of a century later?

PS There are later editions of the book. I guess I need to get hold of one.

Jackson, Deborah. Three in a Bed: The Healthy Joys & Remarkable Benefits of Sharing Your Bed with Your Baby. London: Bloomsbury Pub., 1989. Print.

What is a Doula?

Why do you want to be a doula?

I want to be a doula for many of the same reasons that I want to be a midwife. I have had some very good birth experiences and would like to help other women to have the same. I believe that women have choices when it comes to giving birth and I would like to help them learn what their choices are in order that they can make the best ones for themselves, their babies, and their families.

Birth is a fascinating process to me physiologically, mentally, and spiritually. Birth, like death, is something that each of us must experience. However, each of us is only born once and because of this, each birth should be the best possible experience. I would like to help women achieve this for their babies.

Other than helping women by being a doula, it is also, for me, a stepping stone on my pathway to midwifery.

What personal qualities does a doula possess?

A doula must possess many qualities such as love, compassion, empathy, knowledge, awareness, physical and emotional strength, ability to connect, confidence in her role, humility. A doula must love women, babies, and birth. A doula must have compassion for those with whom she works including not only the birthing woman but her partner and other family members. A doula must have empathy, which is to me a deeper, more complete compassion. A doula must have knowledge not only of the basic process of labor and birth but of basic anatomy and physiology, how to provide comfort, how to deal with different groups of people. Part of her knowledge must include the fact that as much as she has, there is always more to gain.

A doula must be aware not only of those with whom she works but of her surroundings and the emotional, spiritual, and physical ebb and flow around her.  A doula must have physical and emotional strength because birth can be a long process.  Physical strength because a laboring woman may need comfort measures requiring physical strength from the doula for long periods of time and emotional strength because there may be people present who would seek to undermine the work of a doula or challenge her very presence in the birthing room.

A doula must have the ability to connect. Most importantly, she must connect with the laboring woman. As well, it would be beneficial if she can connect with the woman’s partner and with members of the medical team providing care for her. A doula must have confidence in her role. If she is lacking in this area, she might as well not be present.

Perhaps most importantly, a doula must have humility. She must understand that while she is there to help, it is only the woman giving birth who can do that important work. She must understand that while she may have great knowledge, she does not know everything. She must know and understand that her role is that of facilitator, not director of operations.

What skills and knowledge does she need to have?

A doula must have some skills and knowledge. One of the greatest teachers is experience. This experience might come in the form of personally birthing babies or in helping other women along the process. As she gains experience, she is better able to help those around her.

A doula needs to have knowledge of the birth process including basic anatomy in order to better explain to those with whom she works what is happening, what can be expected, and, to an extent, why. A doula should have at least a basic knowledge of both post and antepartum processes and changes. She needs to know common concerns and how to respond to them. A doula should have some basic knowledge of breastfeeding in order to support the woman who chooses do so.

In what ways does she assist a birthing woman and her family?

A doula assists a birthing woman and her family in whatever way she can. Mainly, this consists of supporting a family throughout pregnancy, birth, and beyond.

When a doula meets an expecting mother and her family (understanding that it is quite possible for a woman to be completely alone in her journey to motherhood), her job, so to speak, is to offer support. This support comes in many forms and may include any one or all of the following (or some that are not mentioned):

*        help track contractions and help decide when to call the midwife or go to the hospital

*        help set up at home or get settled at the hospital

*        work with a partner to get both comfortable (but mostly mama)

*        provide cool cloths

*        remind mama to breathe

*        provide counter pressure

*        squeeze mama’s hips

*        help partner feel confident

*        watch television with family between contractions

*        take pictures

*        help clean up at home or protect the sacred hour at the hospital

*        provide words, arms, shoulders of encouragement

*        pour water over mama’s back or belly when in the tub

*        educate

*        provide massage

*        help with breastfeeding

*        answer questions

*        be aware/sensitive

*        share in the emotions

                       

What did you need when you became a mother or went through a major life change? What helped? What didn’t?

When I became a mother, I needed support. When my son was killed and the rest of us were spread out not only between hospitals but states as well, I needed support. I needed someone to listen. I needed someone to answer my honest questions. I needed someone to tell me that it would be alright. I needed someone to let me cry.

It is helpful when going through a major life change, and birth and death both are, to have someone to listen to you, to share your thoughts and feelings. It is certainly helpful to have someone come and take care of the mundane chores that need to be done but that can seem overwhelming. Having someone to take care of meals is a huge help. It is helpful having someone watch older children when there is a birth or to just be there for the children in other circumstances.

It is not helpful to have people tell you about their own experiences; the time for that will come later. It is not helpful to have people help take care of the baby (unless a mother has disabilities which necessitate this). It is not helpful to have people compare your situation to theirs. It is not helpful to suggest that life goes on; it either does (in birth) or it doesn’t (in death) and nothing anyone says is going to change that.

In light of the questions above, assess yourself. What do you already have? What do you need to work on? What do you need to think more about? Do you have personal issues that may interfere with your practice as a doula?

My goal in life is to be the best I can at whatever I do. In order to become an excellent doula and midwife, I feel that I need to do some growing. I have learned a little about trusting myself; I need to learn more. I have learned a little about listening; I need to learn more. I have learned a little about service; I need to learn more. I have learned a little about helping others; I need to learn more. I have learned a little; I need to learn a LOT more. I do not believe that I have any personal issues that will interfere with my practice as either a doula or a midwife; I feel that it is what I was called to do and now I need to do it.

Way of the Birth Arts Doula (Way of the doula)

“You will find honor in being a doula, the woman who serves. You will be handmaiden to the Birthing Goddess, lending your heart and hands to her as she labors at transforming herself into the Mother Goddess. You will carry water, cook, clean and care for her family as well as directly support her in labor. It is woman’s work. Hard physical work, intense emotional and spiritual work, everyday miracle work. Sometimes she will not know she is a Goddess and you will hold up the mirror and tell her to look and share your vision.”

I cannot think of anything that sounds quite like being ‘handmaiden to the Birthing Goddess.’ In spite of the fact that I can see some objecting to the thought of ‘woman’s work,’ it is true. Women only can be the Mother Goddess. Women only can give birth. Although a man might be able to be very sympathetic and be a good birth partner, only a woman can completely empathize with the birthing woman because only a woman can understand what she is experiencing because she has herself experienced it and/or she is capable of following her intuition and is able to feel with the woman transforming . ‘Hard physical work’ indeed. ‘Intense emotional and spiritual work’ for certain. ‘Everyday miracle work’ most definitely.

‘Handmaiden to the Birthing Goddess’ conjures up in my mind images of Druid folklore and Celtic women with long hair flowing; of Shetland shawls, ancient trees and windswept landscapes.

“You will need to feel your own strength and vulnerability as a woman, know the power of surrender to a force greater than yourself. You must know these things in your bones. She will sense it if you do and it will give her strength because you are living proof that it can be done.”

It seems odd to use strength and vulnerability in the same sentence, especially when discussing a woman who very likely will need them at the same time. However, speaking from experience, sometimes when a woman is at her most vulnerable, she is also strongest. Labor and birth truly do involve forces greater than any one human. Opening up to the unknown can be a terribly frightening experience but when a birthing woman is with someone who has walked the walk, who does know the incredible power of surrender, it can ease or even completely negate the fear.

“To learn the truth of birth you will be going to Nature, the mother of all. By observing, interacting with her elemental forces and participating in her cycles with awareness you will be taught all you need to know.”

Learning about and from Nature almost seems counterintuitive to the societal norms we find today. Trust birth. Trust your body. Are you kidding—trust the doctor and medicalized view of birth; anything else is likely to leave you wanting.

In my experience, as we observe and interact with the elemental forces of Nature and participate in her cycles, we are taught everything that we need to know. As we observe and interact with the elemental forces of a laboring woman, a Birth Goddess, and participate in her cycles, we can learn everything we need to know. We will learn what she needs, how she feels, and how best to support her.

“You will need to learn to articulate your truth. The truth of what you believe about birth, of what you sense and feel before you, of who you are as a person. Your decisions and actions arise out of being grounded in your truth.”

After having been married for seventeen years to a man who wanted to mold me into a creation after his own design, I have had in many ways to relearn who I am. In some ways it is unfortunate that most of what I learned from personal experience about birth happened during these years. However, in spite of his meticulous and questionable guidance, I was able to learn truth and I am now able to share that. 

“You will help the woman retrieve from within herself the knowledge of what she needs to do her birth dance. By opening yourself to feel her and attending to her in a loving, focused manner you will perceive and reflect back to her own truth.”

To me, this is almost the epitome of what it means to be a doula or even a midwife. My midwives were able to do this for me; now it is my turn to do this for other women in their transformative birth experiences. Ideally, I believe that the doula should be able to be that mirror into which the laboring woman can look to see the Goddess she is.

“You will be helping the mother provide for herself a nourishing environment so that the natural process can unfold of its own accord. Helping safeguard her sacred birthing space, identifying interferences to the natural process, and facilitating her movement through it are part of your doula work.”

A doula cannot give birth for the woman who is laboring. She can, however, help her provide the ‘nourishing environment’ in order that the ‘natural process can unfold of its own accord.’ In doing this, safeguarding the woman’s sacred birthing space is of utmost importance. I feel that in many cases today, the labor room has become an arena. Too often there are far too many spectators and more cheerleaders than participants.

Often the birthing woman does not recognize interferences to the natural process and therefore is almost powerless to react or respond. A doula can certainly help identify unnecessary intrusions and protect against them.  She can facilitate the birthing woman’s journey through this process by being aware of the process and understanding her own role in it.

The Six Steps of Healing in life

The Six Steps of Healing (use in life)

I believe I have used these in many aspects of my life without realizing that someone had actually written them down.

For using the six steps in life, I would like to discuss how they applied, and still do, regarding the death of my oldest son.

Step 0: DO NOTHING

Doing nothing can be quite easy and yet challenging at the same time. There isn’t much worse than being told that your child is dead. After the initial gut-wrenching, heart-being-ripped-out-of-your-body, feeling like you want to die, reaction, all you want to do is. . . nothing. It is rather easy to lay in bed, especially since you’ve had a broken back and a concussion and can’t really do anything else anyway, and stare into nothing. There are things in your line of sight; there is a window and there are other objects. But you don’t see them. They don’t exist. Nothing exists. Nothing. Your world has come to an abrupt halt.

Sometimes your thoughts wander. Sometimes you wonder how you got to this point. Sometimes you wonder how life can possibly go on without this person who has been such an integral part of your life since the day he was conceived and yet in the next thought you know that as much as you can’t possibly imagine what it will be like, you are going to find out; there is absolutely nothing you can do to alter this fact. There are times when you wonder if this might just be a bad dream and you wonder if you might wake up sometime soon.

People swarm in and out, in and out, like the ebb and flow of the tide. They have words of condolence and you know they mean well but they do not understand how you feel. They do not understand that you wish you could turn your feelings off. They do not understand and while a part of you wishes that they did, a part of you hopes they never do.

Step 1: GATHER INFORMATION

There are many ways in which you might gather information.  One of the ways I found most useful and helpful was to surround myself with my family and to listen to words of wisdom.

Life has to go on. There are seven other children who look to you. They miss their brother as much as you miss your son although in different ways.

There was a chaplain at Sanford Hospital who is an incredible man. I have no idea no if he had ever experienced the death of a child but he had the ability to listen and to direct in a very Christ-like way. It was from him that I learned that I could use this awful pain and become stronger; even when, and if, I wondered how.

There was a grief-councilor at Avera Hospital. He was a very kind man. He also was religious. In spite of the fact that he told me that no one had the right to tell me to ‘get over it,’ I liked him. After this, he asked me what my son would tell me if he were there. I smiled a little and said, ‘Get over it.’ Then I thought, ‘Oh, he told me no one should tell me that.’ But I could hear Daniel say it. ‘Get over it, Mom. Life goes on. I am still here.’  It was from him that I learned how to tell the other children about their brother.

There were people I had never met before from whom I learned what it means to have unconditional love.

There is my friend, Diane, who said to me, ‘This might sound strange, but. . .’ She told me to look back over the days, weeks, and months previous to the accident and see if there were any instances that seemed to be a preparation for what was to come. There were. Mostly small and seemingly insignificant but now huge and life-altering.

There were books. And prayers. And dreams.

Step 2: ENGAGE THE ENERGY

With the information I gathered, and still gather today, energy is engaged. The anesthesiologist who worked on my third son happened to be the nephew of a dear friend of mine from when we’d lived in California. The doctor who worked on my second son, happened to be LDS and opened his home to our family.

The energy was sometimes like a tenuous thread. As knowledge and information were increased, the thread become stronger and more threads were added to the safety net. Even though I still sometimes physically felt like I would split in two, I knew that I wouldn’t.

There were still tears. But there was laughter. There was still pain. But there was faith. There was love. There was a cohesiveness that I never would have imagined possible in the first hours after.

Step 3: NOURISH AND TONIFY

Once all the other children knew that Daniel was physically dead, spiritual healing was able to begin. It was very hard having two children in one hospital, one child in another hospital, three staying with new friends, and one still in another state. Then it was just one child in one hospital and one in another, four with new friends, and one in another state. Then one child in one hospital, five with new friends, and one in another state. That is how it remained until we began leaving to return home one and three at a time. I took turns spending time between the hospital(s) and the home where others were staying. I certainly did not love the circumstances, but I came to look forward to the time I was being able to spend with each child. Even during the time my youngest daughter and second oldest son were not conscious, it was still good to spend time with them.

Step 4: STIMULATE OR SEDATE

During this time, sedation was certainly used and stimulation was sometimes something to be avoided. My youngest daughter and second oldest son were kept in drug-induced comas for a time in order to allow some healing to begin before regaining consciousness. My daughter was not kept this way as long as my son but it took her longer to actually regain consciousness. Once my son was awake, he had to be given sedatives to help him come off the medication he’d been given for pain. Had any one circumstance been different, it is quite likely that I would have involved tinctures and/or essential oils. When we were all home, I did.

Step 5A: USE SUPPLEMENTS

We really didn’t use any supplements other than herbs for tea and essential oils.

Step 5B: USE DRUGS

The idea was to get everyone back to normal. To this end, some drugs were used but they were discarded as soon as possible and we used only herbs and essential oils.

Step 6: BREAK AND ENTER

My second oldest son had severe skull fractures. The neurosurgeon who worked on him showed me pictures of my son and explained what he had done. Because the dura surrounding the brain had been nicked, it was necessary to make sure there were no bone fragments or other foreign objects with the brain. I would certainly consider that to be breaking and entering. Although my next younger son and youngest daughter sustained serious injuries, neither had to have major surgery.

Using the Six Steps as a guide is helpful in many ways. Specifically, it gives a foundation on which to build and even if not specifically thought of at the time, helps give some perspective. I think knowing about them will help give perspective to many things in my life now that I would not have thought of before.

The Six Steps of Healing (birth)

I am thinking of a birth I was present for. In applying the Six Steps of Healing to the experience, it seems obvious that the Steps were followed in part but certainly not entirely. Let’s examine what happened.

Step 0: DO NOTHING
This, from what I heard and observed, did not happen. This birth was an example of what happens when two products of helicopter parents become involved and form a family. The pregnant woman could not make a decision without input from her family and the young man was not able to make a decision without considering what his mother would think. The young man’s mother did not seem to be as bad in the labor room as did the family of the young mother-to-be. The mother of the LM (laboring mama) was especially . . . vocal. Before arriving at the hospital throughout pregnancy, LM was told repeatedly how difficult labor was going to be and her moaning and groaning indicated that she was going to make sure it was (I realize this is not something she likely was thinking—the subconscious was certainly at work and had been given a lot of fuel).	The do nothing should have been begun by the parents of the LM months, if not years, before. When we are conditioned for years about something, it is hard to break away from what we have come to believe. In this case, since LM’s family was there reinforcing those things she had learned, it would have been nice to somehow get them out of the room.
Step 1: GATHER INFORMATION
Information was gathered from medical personnel and family members. The problem with the gathered information is that although it was collected from people the laboring woman trusted, it was not always accurate or even good information. The nurses and doctor gave good, and accurate, information. Family members did not. Sometimes information can be offered but it does not have to be acted upon or even accepted. I got the feeling that the family really kind of had their own ideas and wanted things to progress according to their time-frame, not according to what was best for the LM or what was normal hospital protocol.	Ideally, this LM should have attended childbirth classes and a Meet the Doula night. Possibly a Mama/Baby class as well. She clearly had been overly prepared for how bad things were going to be. Her mother had had two cesarean births and obviously thought that she was an expert.
Step 2: ENGAGE THE ENERGY
There was a lot of energy in that room. Unfortunately, it was all negative. The LM had her parents and sister with her. The father did not have his phone out but the mother and sister did and they were on them constantly. The mother did not really want me to be there helping with anything—that’s why she was there, to take care of her baby. In spite of this, there were times when LM would say, “I need my water,” to which she got no response. “Mom, my water.” “Just a minute,” tapping away on her phone, “I’m almost done.” Once the father of the baby arrived, almost every time he made a comment or did anything, it was met with rolling eyes and/or barely disguised condescending remarks.	If the negative energy could have somehow been harnessed and turned positive, this would have been a really incredible experience. If the focus had been on LM rather than everyone and everything else, it would have been a huge step in the right direction. Emptying the room of excess people would have helped as well. Essential oils and muted lighting could have made a huge difference but were rejected. I wonder if it would be okay to just take action in such a circumstance.
Step 3: NOURISH AND TONIFY
This did not happen.	“Send love to all parts of yourself, especially the ones you are ashamed of.” If love could have been sent out to the father of the baby, it would have changed the whole dynamic of this experience. The only love in that room was of the parents of the baby for the baby.
Step 4: STIMULATE OR SEDATE
Sedation was used in the form of Demerol or Stadol. I don’t remember if she had Pitocin but it seems likely that she did because although she thought that contractions were already unbearable, they were not very regular.	Stimulation in the form of a shower or essential oils or massage could have been really good. The father of the baby actually did massage LMs belly and that was welcome by her.
Step 5A: USE SUPPLEMENTS
No supplements that I know of.	Supplements may have made a difference if they could have been gotten by LMs mother.
Step 5B: USE DRUGS
Drugs were definitely part of the mix. Other than those mentioned above, LM (laboring mama) wanted an epidural. Because she was in the hospital, this was of course very available and she got what she wanted.	Drugs were expected and welcome. While I can see that they would in some cases, it doesn’t seem that they were really necessary this time except that LMs mother said so.
Step 6: BREAK AND ENTER
Although this birth did not end in surgery other than a few stitches to repair a torn perineum, the doctor did, in a manner of speaking, break and enter. There was, if you will, a cone-shaped area where the tension in the room was not as thick; the doctor was in this and it seemed as though his presence created it as he was in the room but not part of the drama.	Quite frankly, in spite of the fact that this baby was born vaginally, which is a good thing, a cesarean birth almost would have been better simply because it would have meant that most of those in attendance would not have been able to be present.

Compared to a birth that I more recently attended, the birth described above was something like a nightmare. The more recent birth was lovely and I feel followed more closely the Six Steps than did the previous one even though the parents had no idea what the Six Steps were.