Loafing and wisdom of third trimester fitness.

Despite having basically no income (I'm at the bottom of the barrel of student loan money), I made some investments in my pregnancy that are probably pretty necessary, somewhat out of fear.  Eh.  Sometimes it's a good motivator- when you see yourself moving quickly towards an unattractive demise (i.e. a midwife chastising you for gaining too much weight for the second time, a second degree tear, a nearly nine pound baby, and severe diastasis), the best thing to do is turn around FAST in the other direction.  

First, I purchased one of the lovely books that Juliette de Bairacli Levy, the famed Gypsy herbalist that has had such a profound influence on other healers I've come to love, called Nature's Children.  I had to buy it after peeking inside it on Amazon late last night and reading her wisdom on pregnancy and motherhood.  It's simple.  A family is only as healthy as the mother.  She shares beautifully from her experience instead of theory her thoughts that a robust pregnancy, one where the mother stays physically active and alive, sleeps well, eats well, breathes fresh air and spends most of her time outdoors (such as the nomads she lived and birthed with) leads to a quick, often painless birth, as well as babies who are healthy and robust themselves.  

Here she is with her Afghan hound, the breed she always kept by her side.

Ah, a breath of fresh air!  What a philosophy to get behind.  So simple, yet so removed from the lifestyle I've adapted even up here in the Black Hills, overwintering, sometimes over-eating, and generally loafing around. 

So this morning I was determined to get up and get real, but of course, I perceived obstacles.  I'm not in the frame of mind quite yet to fully appreciate walks alone around the ranch (perhaps when I have more of my own projects going on, the garden growing, the chickens scratching around..)  The biggest piece of Julliete's wisdom I've taken to heart, mainly because I can actually FEEL the effects of having not, is exercise.  My 30-week belly has really been pulling me down lately, but I've let it.  Earlier, my solution was GaiamTV and the prenatal videos they offer, but when I went to renew my lapsed subscription, I found that- NOO!!- they don't play the beloved prenatal yoga video I found myself going back to over and over again.  While they have gobs of other amazing content (like recordings of my favorite spiritual teachers such as Michael Beckwith and Marianne Williamson, plus, um, Jillian Michaels), I knew what I wanted and I wanted it NOW.  

And I am PICKY when it comes to fitness/yoga recording.  Any slightly annoying inflection of a host's voice and I'm out.  I wasn't sticking around on GaiamTV if they didn't have what I wanted, to I went back to Amazon and just bought it.  Fuck it.  I'm worth it (and so is this little one).  

That said, I really can't say enough good things about Hala Khouri's Radiant Pregnancy.  As a doula and childbirth educator, I think that her approach to the sacred nature of pregnancy is gentle and not patronizing, and allows plenty of space for a mama to feel her way through her own experience (which is what a good yoga teacher does anyway).  Plus she's a generally bad-ass lady.  Here she is:

Now, if you can't get behind that, I don't know what you're doing on my blog in the first place (just kidding!  welcome!!).  I'm generally attracted to down-to-earth, fearless people, so I'm excited for Friday, when Hala Khouri will show up in the mail.  I'll let y'all know how I'm feeling in about a week.  My guess is that things can only improve.

Until then, I'm going to get dressed, get outside, and go shovel aged cow manure into buckets for my compost pile!  I think Juliette would be proud. 

On having a daughter.

This second pregnancy has been smoother, faster, and healthier.  I feel less chaotic and psychotic than my first, in which I did a lot of crying, a lot of yelling.  I wasn't nearly this balanced with Elijah, and suffered from pretty profound postpartum depression (if you've read my blog before, you may know this).  My psychosis and anxiety ran so deep that it was one of the only reasons I considered not going through with a future accidental pregnancy.  I had a deep fear of myself after what I went through with Elijah, and so the way this pregnancy has gone is a sigh of deep relief.  

When I found out, I immediately connected with the little rose bud inside of me.  I smiled mistily in disbelief and gratitude, and held on to the belly that lingered from this one's brother.  That day, I put myself on a path to ground myself in wellness (which I have done better with at times than others) and self appreciation.  I've been able to connect with this light body inside of my belly in a demystified way that can only come with the veil having been lifted through the birth of a previous child.  This second pregnancy is profoundly different.  I've been so grateful.

But now I am terrified.

Elijah predicted this.  Of course, I'm not surprised that my utterly intuitive three-year-old knew the nature of this baby- he's been nothing but gushing over his "baby sister", but I only indulged him.  I could care less, or so I thought.  After all, I didn't with him.  With him, I thought I wanted a girl, and when he was a boy instead and I realized the joy of mothering a sweet little man, the whole thing became arbitrary.  And theoretically speaking, the sex of a baby makes not a damn bit of difference.  I'm not interested in the cultural indoctrination of gender.  

But suffice it to say, at the risk of political correctness, the reveal of this baby's sex, one that happened due to my aforementioned ambivalence and the excitement of said three-year-old, has made a drastic shift in my perception.  Due to a combination of several factors, including an intensely unhealthy relationship with my own mother, my spiritual beliefs regarding the power of women, and deeply held political ideologies, the weight of having a daughter is heavy to my soul.  My ex mother-in-law always talked about how much "easier" boys were- how they always loved on and supported their mothers- but how daughters would tear your guts out without even blinking, how vicious they could be, and I would laugh knowingly, looking back on my relationship with my mother and how awful and vicious I was to her, the deep anger I held and acted out toward her and how aware I was of it without caring at all.  I was deeply wounded as a child because my mother didn't have a "mother" of her own, in any known sense of the word, and so no examples were given her of stability, of emotional availability or gentle nurturing.  

So these deep fears have come up, and I'm in the private process of bracing myself not against a wall, but against solutions, tools.  I am a gentle mother to Elijah, despite having put him in the unfortunate position of being "motherless" for part of the time, so most of the fear of myself as a mother has no place.  But the chain remains unbroken- my mother and I are taking our own chips at it but it really is much bigger than us sometimes.  It's a long lineage of resentment, jealousy, and just plain meanness.  I feel like I'm going to be too tough on her, that I'm going to be awkward and unavailable, or conversely dependent on her validation of my worth as a woman.  I'm afraid of being ripped apart and being simply not good enough.  I can't imagine a greater vulnerability.  

And now the pressure is really on.  All of the ways I've been meaning to embody The Mother, the great goddess or what have you, can no longer wait.  I've been able to put them off until now.  But raising daughters, I believe, is serious business.  It's a scary world for them, and there's so much healing to do.  (It should be noted, of course, that all forms of motherhood, and parenthood for that matter, is serious business, and I take raising my son no less to heart, but my feelings are clearly so different.  Elijah has taught me the depths of compassion that must be opened up for him as a future man in the world.  As much as I wish it weren't, this is much different.)  

I wish I didn't feel a distinction.  I wish I could just raise my children in their fully appreciated selves without regard to what I thought to be arbitrary news.  And really, still, at the end of the day, I could give two shits about having boys or girls (in the way people want one or the other).  But the emotions in me are undeniable, and for the sake of future vulnerability, honesty, and heartfelt discomfort, here they are.  

I have faith that all of my children will be fully realized versions of the beautiful beings they are sent here to be.  It's just scarier than hell to know how much of that rests on me.  

Manifestation

I'm overwhelmed.  

The blessing that came my way today is my sign, really the culmination of the task I've had at hand- pave way and open space for the gifts of the universe to unwrap themselves for me.  Over the past year I've had two major break ups (three if you count a business partner), I moved out of my first home, quit (and got fired from) a few jobs, stopped taking classes, and opened my heart.  I surrendered my sense of control, of beating my life into submission, and learned to just be.

You know what happened?  Pregnant moms started to call on me.

The Goddess (or who/whatever you will) made it unmistakably clear that serving the rite of birth is what I'm supposed to be doing.

People often wonder how I got into birth in the first place.  Well, my interest in women's health happened on accident- I went to Plan-It X Fest in 2006 where there was a workshop on self cervical exams put on by DC's Down There Health Collective.  I was blown away.  I went home from Bloomington with an arm full of zines, including Alicia non Grata's Take Back Yr Life and Hot Pantz.  That was how I first was introduced to herbs, the idea of inducing your own miscarriage, and not using tampons anymore.  I was 18 and it felt good to be a woman.  

When I moved to Denver, I had no inhibitions about teaching a free school class (if these ladies could do it, so could I!)  So for six months every week I taught a class called Positive Menstruation.  It was wonderful.  It resulted in the safest space I had ever been in, a lovely fluidity of topics from feminist spirituality to anatomy and physiology.   We talked so much about how not to get pregnant using the Fertility Awareness Method that it didn't occur to me (at age 20) that birth was part of this circle I was a part of.  I first learned what a doula was through my tribe of women there but I didn't feel called to that until I was pregnant myself.

All the while, in the back of my head, through births, talking with women about their most intimate details, getting emails asking me questions from what kind of vibrator to get to difficulties with arousal and heavy menstrual flow, receiving phone calls from women in crisis, and seeing a clear need for holistic, understanding, compassionate health care for women and their allies, I've had a dream of what my practice would look like.  How can I best serve people?  I need somewhere that people (women, genderqueers, and men) can come for workshops, to buy supplies, to receive consultations and services such as screenings and pregnancy tests.  I need somewhere to teach natural birth control, childbirth education, and herbal intensives.  And by somewhere I really have thought "something".  I just want this dream to turn into a thing.  To manifest.  I don't know if as my business, as a non-profit, or as a collective.  I just know that this is what I want to pour myself into and that there is a need for it.  

Today I was given a space for it.  

I have access to two beautiful yoga studios, plenty of storage space for educational materials and medical supplies, and the potential (if we grow) to move into an office space of my very own- one that I could see my clients in, do treatments in...  It's in a beautiful house which held a Buddhist temple there for the past several years.  The woman that owns it wants to see this happen (almost) as badly as I do.  I can't believe it.  I have to believe it.

So now the pressure is on.  If I don't make it happen, some karmic apocalypse will have me for dinner.  Lots of decisions to make, lots of energy to give to the design of this project.  

I need help.

Lawmaker may propose cutting epidurals, C-sections from medicaid

A bit of a delayed response on this bit of news, but it's still worth sharing.  Lawmakers in Utah are considering a proposal to overhaul Medicaid, starting with cuts in the most interesting of places- epidurals and elective Cesareans.  The move would be an attempt to minimize the spending the state says it makes for out-of-state college students "freeloading" on Medicaid (because apparently Utah has an epidemic of pregnant college girls) since they might not technically be employed, yet still dependent on wealthy parents residing elsewhere.  However, despite there being examples of how the rates of these procedures go down when insurance refuses to pay the high price for them, the motivation of this particular move is troubling.  

I agree with the response this has incited that denying a woman an epidural she is desperate for based on her insurance provider is classist and totally misogynistic.  On the other hand, exclaiming epidurals an issue of choice just doesn't sit well with me.  I guess it's that old feminist line of thought that says we have the right to escape the pain of childbirth, as if the pain of birth was, in fact, meant to punish us for being women.  It's not going far enough for me.  The right to a healthy, normal, empowered birth is a feminist issue.  This argument to protect Medicaid-sponsored epi's reeks of the sentiment that lower class women aren't capable of a normal, non-intervened birth (which is suspiciously useful to the state- can you imagine if poor women everywhere started having supported, empowering births?  Watch out!)  I agree that women who are systematically denied education and resources contributes to the lack of informed consent, and therefor the cascade of interventions, which makes an epidural sound pretty nice.  But nobody here is talking about providing the women effected in this situation alternatives (such as implementing hospital midwifery programs, like this one, and this one).  They're just fighting to protect the epidural.

This is a classic case of a few bad apples spoiling the bunch, because sometimes an epidural can be a useful tool, not every college kid has wealthy parents, and the overwhelming majority of pregnant women on Medicaid are there for a damn good reason.  It's just disappointing for me to see that the biggest reaction to this has been so unimaginative and classically self-blaming.  We should really be taking this opportunity to talk about how to empower the women this would effect, to look at the evidence, and try to create something positive out of a poorly motivated, yet opportunistic, change.  The question here should be, "Do we need the epidural?"

Don't touch my belly!

I just read a pretty entertaining, and universal, blog addressing the more annoying things about being pregnant in public, posted by Jessica Valenti of Feministing.com.  I think that all of these things were a huge source of my mood swings and serious bouts of prenatal depression- feeling so widely undervalued and weighed down by the understanding that it was only the beginning of feeling degraded in my role as mother breast feeder giver woman.  She says it more concisely than I ever could.