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.