I'm picking this up again because I find myself posting much to Facebook, it not being quite as gratifying as I wish it were, and I have lots more to say these days than that space allows.
Back to back births this week and I have yet to debrief with another doula- I will resist the urge to do it here. I will say, however, that for the first time I saw the powerful grip that sexual trauma can hold on a woman's body and learned how essential it is to address that deep shit in pregnancy. I'm finding that my work in the future is in creating deeper safe spaces with women, addressing our relationships with our pelvises, genitalia, getting to know our cervixes, and letting go when we are surrounded by love. Creating spaces of safety and love for women. Healing universal and personal trauma. Opening our hips. Letting go.
I need to get a copy of Penny Simkin's "When Survivors Give Birth: Understanding and Healing the Effects of Early Sexual Abuse on Childbearing Women" I'll review it once I do. There have been hints lately that this is where my work will take me- I want to bridge gaps between disaster relief, emergency medicine, midwifery, sexuality education and sexual assault awareness. I've been asked by a few women this week if I have been sexually assaulted and I've admitted that I have not. (I should count the time I woke up with a man's hands down my pants.. and all the times my step dad hit on me or told me about how much sex he wasn't having with my mom..) I do however feel highly tuned in to institutional baggage and the rape of the Earth. I believe in a past life I was persecuted and murdered for being a healer (were my breasts cut off of me? dragged through the streets and killed in front of my family?) I feel these things, but I know I am safe now and that nobody can do that to me here. Perhaps it's my job to let all of these other women know that it's safe here for them, too. And that nobody can hurt them here, right now, in this space. That their labor is not the enemy. That their bodies are not the enemy.
The pain of birth, of change, is safe.
So what does it look like? This woman was crawling out of her contractions. She looked like she was in transition so we checked her and she was dilated to 3 centimeters. And I think it was at that point when her confidence melted away. After that, she was completely frustrated with her body, angry actually. Later she described feeling her body pull up every time she tried moving her energy down, as I suggested she do. I kept saying, "Don't crawl out of it, sink into it." She would move the energy down, feel baby move down, but her pelvic floor (and her cervix) tightened up in complete resistance. Truly, this woman suffered. At one point, we had her running the hospital halls during her contractions to try and open her cervix. I pulled her aside to tell her, "I don't know what you've been through, but moving through this will make you a stronger mother." She just looked back at me and said, "I don't know what I'm doing wrong." At one point, only I could be near her. She paced a part of the hall, gripping the hand rail- literally crawling it, battling her contractions. She said at one point, "I wasn't prepared for this."
And it was partly my fault. This woman did everything right- worked out 4-5 times a week, did acupuncture and massage, yoga, and ate great. I took for granted that her lifestyle meant she would have a peaceful, lovely natural birth. Before labor starts, I tell all of my clients that it's impossible for their contractions to be bigger than them because they are them. Something bigger than her got in her way, took her strength and sent her on a ride.
It's amazing what comes up during birth. You find out what you think you've let go in your mind but your body has held onto. Isn't it incredible the power our bodies have despite our minds, and our minds over our bodies?
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Saturday, March 26, 2011
About this guy.
He's not used to kids and he's a locker room homophobe. I'm explaining a lot about womanhood and power and he's not getting it yet. He doesn't have sisters. But I like him. He makes me laugh. Humbles me down and gets shit done. Ain't no fuckin' around.
When it's just getting started, I throw myself out like I'm casting a line. I don't know if that's right or not, but all of me goes out and gets dragged back in a hurry. Always some form of dejection, but I'm not playing that anymore. I feel good about me and if he wants me, he'll get me. And I know that he does, so what's the rush? Where are we going?
Isn't it better when you don't worry about the outcome?
Read this amazing post about pleasure principles and harm reduction.
When it's just getting started, I throw myself out like I'm casting a line. I don't know if that's right or not, but all of me goes out and gets dragged back in a hurry. Always some form of dejection, but I'm not playing that anymore. I feel good about me and if he wants me, he'll get me. And I know that he does, so what's the rush? Where are we going?
Isn't it better when you don't worry about the outcome?
Read this amazing post about pleasure principles and harm reduction.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Restart
Going to start blogging again. MUST start blogging again. So much is orbiting around me in my world that some sort of processing and expression must be done about it. Journaling is obsolete to me. I'll explore my need for an audience some other time.
Right now I have a new "romance", really trying to take it slow getting to know somebody who possesses all of the assets that attract me about a human being, trying not to jump on it, squeeze the proverbial bar of soap. Single motherhood isn't quite a reality, because I live in community, because I commun-icate with my baby's papa, because I struggle, but not like my mother did. Blessings are flying my way faster than I can handle, and most of the time they wait around for me to notice them, which is a blessing in itself. I just got the connection for a line of placenta work from an underground midwife that doesn't have the time to do it herself, so a lot of nurturing energy is coming my way.
I currently feel loved, blessed, and embraced. It makes me nervous, and I'm trying to shake it.
Right now I have a new "romance", really trying to take it slow getting to know somebody who possesses all of the assets that attract me about a human being, trying not to jump on it, squeeze the proverbial bar of soap. Single motherhood isn't quite a reality, because I live in community, because I commun-icate with my baby's papa, because I struggle, but not like my mother did. Blessings are flying my way faster than I can handle, and most of the time they wait around for me to notice them, which is a blessing in itself. I just got the connection for a line of placenta work from an underground midwife that doesn't have the time to do it herself, so a lot of nurturing energy is coming my way.
I currently feel loved, blessed, and embraced. It makes me nervous, and I'm trying to shake it.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Why going as a woman for Halloween is not cool.
Today I got into a altercation in the comments on FB (gotta love those) in response to a status update by a presumed enlightened male I know by proxy. He said he needed some help with his Halloween costume this year. And that he needs a dress, because he's going as a woman.
I guess I'm the only one who's eyebrows are raised by this. My immediate reaction (which I commented) was, "Thanks for reducing my gender to a Halloween costume." Some interesting conversations occurred. First, the one between this person and I went something like this: He responded confused as to how this was offensive. Going as a firefighter doesn't offend firefighters. Really? Well, going as a man doesn't offend men either. Why would it? They don't have to worry about being trivialized. Let me explain something. If I went as a man for Halloween, it wouldn't be interesting. We have "tom-boys" in real life. Big deal. But a MAN in a DRESS?! Now THAT'S hilarious. When you see Bing Cosby with his face painted black, people back then thought it was funny. Nobody cared who they were offending because they didn't have to worry about it.
Then something interesting happened in the comments, which I had a terrible feeling from the start, but keeping my mouth shut would have defeated the purpose. One of his lady friends came after me with silly (snide?) remarks, one about how I should just go as a man- "That'll show him!" Show him what? Show him that we're on an equal playing field and dressing as the opposite gender is ironic nomatter what? (And I haven't neglected to mention how this is totally offensive to transgender folks) I'm the one that just doesn't get it, I guess.
In my experience, if you are the one being called out on potentially oppressive behavior that is either subtly or blatantly exercising your male/white/first-world privilege, it usually does more harm than good to try to explain your actions away or otherwise defend them. These situations are usually a call for sensitivity, listening, and empathy, even if you think the person bringing the issue up is crazy, over-politically-correct, or too sensitive. It's not your place/privilege to decide. It's your responsibility to listen up. And it's not my responsibility to explain this shit to you. If I'm offended, as a woman, AS YOUR SISTER, chances are I'm about to say something important.
Great article from Ma'ia on privilege to follow.
I guess I'm the only one who's eyebrows are raised by this. My immediate reaction (which I commented) was, "Thanks for reducing my gender to a Halloween costume." Some interesting conversations occurred. First, the one between this person and I went something like this: He responded confused as to how this was offensive. Going as a firefighter doesn't offend firefighters. Really? Well, going as a man doesn't offend men either. Why would it? They don't have to worry about being trivialized. Let me explain something. If I went as a man for Halloween, it wouldn't be interesting. We have "tom-boys" in real life. Big deal. But a MAN in a DRESS?! Now THAT'S hilarious. When you see Bing Cosby with his face painted black, people back then thought it was funny. Nobody cared who they were offending because they didn't have to worry about it.
Then something interesting happened in the comments, which I had a terrible feeling from the start, but keeping my mouth shut would have defeated the purpose. One of his lady friends came after me with silly (snide?) remarks, one about how I should just go as a man- "That'll show him!" Show him what? Show him that we're on an equal playing field and dressing as the opposite gender is ironic nomatter what? (And I haven't neglected to mention how this is totally offensive to transgender folks) I'm the one that just doesn't get it, I guess.
In my experience, if you are the one being called out on potentially oppressive behavior that is either subtly or blatantly exercising your male/white/first-world privilege, it usually does more harm than good to try to explain your actions away or otherwise defend them. These situations are usually a call for sensitivity, listening, and empathy, even if you think the person bringing the issue up is crazy, over-politically-correct, or too sensitive. It's not your place/privilege to decide. It's your responsibility to listen up. And it's not my responsibility to explain this shit to you. If I'm offended, as a woman, AS YOUR SISTER, chances are I'm about to say something important.
Great article from Ma'ia on privilege to follow.
Monday, October 25, 2010
I was a wanted mama
I've been thinking a little bit lately about abortion.
Laurel posted a great thread on Full Spectrum Doula Network about the emotional and mental realities of abortion entitled "Abortion as Perinatal Loss". One of the other commenters said something poignant about how abortion can have the emotional repercussions of miscarriage. And I've always thought that it's a damn shame that so many of the strong, in-tune women I know who have gotten abortions have swept the experience under the rug, seemingly afraid to admit the full spectrum of their emotions due to the fear of their emotional pain and physical healing being used against them by people who want to take away their rights and make them feel guilty about their decision. Do I blame them? Not necessarily. I just think it's really fucking sad.
Also, I've been chatting with a good friend of mine about working with The Doula Project in NYC to get an abortion doula training here in the Midwest, something that this area desperately needs. I see this work as incredibly valuable in light of the very thing I was just discussing- the emotional and mental realities of people who choose abortions.
Maybe this would be the best time to disclose some very personal information. I have, and always will be, pro-choice. I am also anti-abortion. This means I'm pro-everything-that-could-prevent-abortions, such as comprehensive sexuality, access to contraception and improved maternity care, as well as programs to end poverty and the subjugation of women. I think abortion is a sad thing, that we should be working to minimize abortions, because they have no positive effect on a women's sexual health (dare I say a negative one) not to mention take place in a society ill-equipped to support the healing that must take place afterward. Until all of those things are in place, it will sadden me that it must be integrated into modern womancare. But I graciously offer all my support and love for any woman who chooses this, because she deserves it.
On the other hand, my partner was raised extremely pro-life. We've talked and talked about this, and he agrees now that he is pro-choice, but also has such a deep-seated aversion to welcoming abortion into the norm of my work due to it's nature- or what he perceives as its nature. And ultimately, I agree with him that the nature of abortion is that it's a hard decision nobody wants to have to make, yet he feels that it runs deeper than just that- that it's a loss- and it's hard because I don't exactly disagree with him. It's just that his feelings on the subject are in the way of me moving forward with working as an abortion doula, and I want to respect his feelings but also want him to respect what I'm called to do.
What to do, what to do. I am fierce when it comes to ladies' access to abortions, supporting them and their ability to make educated reproductive decisions for a lifetime. I would NEVER question somebody's intent on having an abortion. Yet today I saw a bumper sticker of a Mother Teresa quote that said "It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so you can live as you wish." And it struck me with involuntary truth. And maybe it's because of the crisis I had when I was pregnant, as a pro-choice woman, thinking, "This is a baby." And knowing how relatively easy it's been to be a good mama to my baby despite my struggle to elicit support and resources. But this is my privilege. He was a wanted baby. I was a wanted mama.
Laurel posted a great thread on Full Spectrum Doula Network about the emotional and mental realities of abortion entitled "Abortion as Perinatal Loss". One of the other commenters said something poignant about how abortion can have the emotional repercussions of miscarriage. And I've always thought that it's a damn shame that so many of the strong, in-tune women I know who have gotten abortions have swept the experience under the rug, seemingly afraid to admit the full spectrum of their emotions due to the fear of their emotional pain and physical healing being used against them by people who want to take away their rights and make them feel guilty about their decision. Do I blame them? Not necessarily. I just think it's really fucking sad.
Also, I've been chatting with a good friend of mine about working with The Doula Project in NYC to get an abortion doula training here in the Midwest, something that this area desperately needs. I see this work as incredibly valuable in light of the very thing I was just discussing- the emotional and mental realities of people who choose abortions.
Maybe this would be the best time to disclose some very personal information. I have, and always will be, pro-choice. I am also anti-abortion. This means I'm pro-everything-that-could-prevent-abortions, such as comprehensive sexuality, access to contraception and improved maternity care, as well as programs to end poverty and the subjugation of women. I think abortion is a sad thing, that we should be working to minimize abortions, because they have no positive effect on a women's sexual health (dare I say a negative one) not to mention take place in a society ill-equipped to support the healing that must take place afterward. Until all of those things are in place, it will sadden me that it must be integrated into modern womancare. But I graciously offer all my support and love for any woman who chooses this, because she deserves it.
On the other hand, my partner was raised extremely pro-life. We've talked and talked about this, and he agrees now that he is pro-choice, but also has such a deep-seated aversion to welcoming abortion into the norm of my work due to it's nature- or what he perceives as its nature. And ultimately, I agree with him that the nature of abortion is that it's a hard decision nobody wants to have to make, yet he feels that it runs deeper than just that- that it's a loss- and it's hard because I don't exactly disagree with him. It's just that his feelings on the subject are in the way of me moving forward with working as an abortion doula, and I want to respect his feelings but also want him to respect what I'm called to do.
What to do, what to do. I am fierce when it comes to ladies' access to abortions, supporting them and their ability to make educated reproductive decisions for a lifetime. I would NEVER question somebody's intent on having an abortion. Yet today I saw a bumper sticker of a Mother Teresa quote that said "It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so you can live as you wish." And it struck me with involuntary truth. And maybe it's because of the crisis I had when I was pregnant, as a pro-choice woman, thinking, "This is a baby." And knowing how relatively easy it's been to be a good mama to my baby despite my struggle to elicit support and resources. But this is my privilege. He was a wanted baby. I was a wanted mama.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Check out the Full Spectrum Doula Network!
It's been a month since I've updated, and I've needed it. Greg and I have been working on night-weaning and I've been getting more sleep now than I have in a year. It's been fabulous.
There's an overwhelming amount of articles and news out there right now that I'm not sure what to share first. To me, it seems like there is an increasing awareness about pregnancy and birth in the reproductive justice movement, and it's awesome! I'm getting really encouraged about things actually making a drastic change in my lifetime :)
What I DO want to share is that my great doula friend, Laurel, just launched a fabulous online community call the Full Spectrum Doula Network (FSDN) It's purpose is to unite pro-choice, feminist, queer, and people of color working as doulas or midwives. I'm so excited to be a featured blogger on the site! Check it out at fullspectrumdoulas.com
There's an overwhelming amount of articles and news out there right now that I'm not sure what to share first. To me, it seems like there is an increasing awareness about pregnancy and birth in the reproductive justice movement, and it's awesome! I'm getting really encouraged about things actually making a drastic change in my lifetime :)
What I DO want to share is that my great doula friend, Laurel, just launched a fabulous online community call the Full Spectrum Doula Network (FSDN) It's purpose is to unite pro-choice, feminist, queer, and people of color working as doulas or midwives. I'm so excited to be a featured blogger on the site! Check it out at fullspectrumdoulas.com
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