Give Me an Epidural Right Now!

Almost every mama I talk to says that she wants to have an unmedicated birth, or at least wants to get as far as she can without medication. Most of the time, that’s exactly what happens. My epidural rate is less than ten percent. As part of the support team, I give my word that I’ll pull out every tool I can to help. The question I am always sure to ask, though, is: “How will you let me know if you’ve changed your mind?”

Sometimes, this will catch someone off guard. Why would I ask about her changing her mind if I believe in her and will support her through her birth? The answer is simple. I ask so that I can be fully supportive. I want her to have the power to make her own decisions with this birth. Deciding to use or not use medication is her decision, not mine. I want her to have the freedom to say whatever she wants to, and do whatever she decides is right. Do I think she can do it without an epidural? Absolutely, I do. If natural birth was impossible, the human race would have died out long before now. But, when all is said and done, I want her to know that she did it for herself, not because of anything I said or did.

Every mama who has ever had a baby has reached that moment when she says, “That’s it. I’m done.” It might happen out loud (very loudly), or it might be only a passing thought in her head, but it does happen. It’s a very charged moment – it’s usually when she’s in the most short and intense part of the labor process, often right before her body begins to push. Physically, this is when contractions are the strongest, longest, and closest together they will be. Getting through them one at a time requires a lot of focused effort. Neurologically, this is when rational thinking part of the brain has shut down, to allow the hormones of labor to do their work. Emotionally, it’s the moment when she has reached the threshold of the only life she has known, and is at the no-turning-back point, stepping into the foreign territory of life as this new person’s  mother. That’s a huge step, and it’s normal to have strong feelings of resistance, doubt, insecurity, and fear come up. I want a mama to have the safety and freedom to express her doubts and fears, to know that she is seen and heard, without holding back because she’s afraid that her desires for natural birth will no longer be supported. I want her to know that she can experience and release these feelings however she needs to, without anyone doubting her strength by offering drugs.  If that means that she becomes silent and centered within herself, that’s wonderful, and if she instead chants, “Give me drugs!” and “What was I thinking?” through every contraction, so be it. Coping comes in many different forms. She is free to do whatever works for her.

I want every mama to have the autonomy of knowing that a natural birth is something she chooses to do. Nobody is forcing this on her. Knowing that this is her choice allows her to believe in herself and experience her own strength. Yes, it’s hard. It hurts, and it’s work. She can do it – she already is. Nothing she can say will make me doubt her ability to get through this. For me or for anyone else to say, “You know, you can have an epidural if you want to” undermines her own power. I won’t do that.

I also want her to know that she has the right to change her mind, and that if she does, she will not be judged, shamed,  or abandoned. There are situations in which medications or anesthesia are exactly the right tool. That’s not all of the time, certainly, and probably not even most of the time, but there are circumstances when an epidural has made the difference between having a vaginal birth or having a cesarean.

Likewise, I will not stand in the place of telling someone that she cannot have anything she is asking for. I don’t control anyone else’s choices with her birth, ever. It would be nothing short of abusive to say, “No, you told me to tell you ‘no’ if you asked for medication. You said you didn’t really want it.” That would be my taking on a power that doesn’t belong to me in her birthing space.

So, we come up with a plan. I ask, “What do you want me to do if you say, ‘Give me drugs right this minute’? I already know that right now, that’s not the choice you prefer, and I will support you through every moment. I know you can do it. So, if you tell me that you’ve really changed your mind, what do you want me to do?” We talk over the possibilities.   I can go get the nurse.  I can offer to step out so she can talk it over with her partner. If she’s very close to giving birth, we might talk her through the necessary steps of making that decision, with the awareness that by the time all is said and done, her baby will likely be here.  (That might sound like “ok, first the nurse will need to hook up your IV, and that will take about 20 minutes to complete, then they’ll call anesthesia. It’s about another 20 minutes to get the epidural in place…”) Would she like for me to empathize that this is hard, and tell her that she’s doing it just right? Would she like me to suggest something else? (“Let’s get through this one first, and get you in a better position. Then we can talk through it if you still want to, you just let me know.”) We might decide in advance on a way that she will let me know – a code word, a phrase – that she has 100% changed her mind and there’s no conversation to be had. (If a mama tells me “I’m at red”, it means “we’re not even talking about it, call someone in here now.”)

The benefit of having this conversation in advance is that once we’ve come up with this plan, we hardly ever have to put it into action. There’s a clarity that comes with the knowing that this birth belongs to her, that she’s calling the shots with her own body, and that her desires will be taken seriously. Thinking through the possibilities and having a contingency plan in place allows her to have the peace of mind that comes with knowing that she can change her mind if she wants to, and that will be respected. Then she is fully able to release, surrender, trust in the process, trust in her body, and get through it in the way that feels exactly right to her. As her doula, that’s the best I could wish for her.

 

Like this article?  Come “like” Jodi the Doula on Facebook for more! 

I Support You

I am a doula. I have worked with over 400 families.

I have known  mamas who breastfed easily, who cherished their nursing relationship.

I have known  mamas who struggled with babies who wouldn’t latch or wouldn’t gain weight, and breasts that never produced milk.

I have known mamas who chose to formula feed out of medical need.

I have known mamas who chose to formula feed from the beginning.

I have never known a mama who didn’t care that her baby was fed.

I support you.

I have known mamas who have birthed peacefully with no medication or intervention.

I have known mamas who struggled with labor that didn’t go as planned or hoped for, changing their course of action in the moment.

I have known mamas who have had cesarean births out of emergency.

I have known mamas who have chosen cesarean birth.

I have never known a mama who didn’t care that her baby was healthy and safe.

I support you.

Breast or bottle, vaginal or cesarean, co-sleeping or crib, stay-at-home or work-outside-the-home… It’s time to end the Mommy Wars. You love your children. Your heart swells with joy when they smile, and breaks when they cry. You worry, I worry. You toss and turn when all is not well, just like me. You hope that you’re doing it right. So do I. You care deeply that he or she is healthy, strong, loved, compassionate, and a functional adult who is an asset to the world when all is said and done. You’re doing everything in your power to make it so. Me, too.

For this, I support you.

Join me in supporting the I Support You movement. Find out more from Mama By The Bay, here.

A Doula for Everyone…But How?

A few months ago, I wrote a  post called No Free Births!  It was aimed at birthworkers who hope to build a successful private practice by giving their work away. It sat quietly in its own little corner of the blogosphere, minding its own business, until a few days ago. Then… KA-BLAM!  Suddenly, it has had more attention than anything else I’ve ever written.

The responses have ranged from “Right on! Sing it!” to “This heartless woman shouldn’t be a doula!” The question that has come up most often has been, “But what about the mama who needs a doula and can’t afford one?”  Women who become doulas choose this path because, at the heart of who we are, we are compassionate, kind, and often generous people who really just want to help others. That’s exactly as it should be… if we aren’t in this work as an act of service, there really isn’t much point.

First, a word of caution: beware the person who is looking for “something for nothing”. Marketing research has shown repeatedly that the people who ask for discounts are more often able to afford whatever it is they are looking for… they are simply financially savvy enough to seek out “the best deal possible”.  Over the years, discernment has taught me the difference between someone desiring my service because we’re a good fit, and the person seeking me out because I’m the cheapest one they’ve spoken to. (The new cars and the boat in the driveway were a good tip-off…)  There is a significant difference between wanting to help others who would not otherwise have support, and giving away one’s work until the magical “someday when I start charging what I’m worth.” So, what do we, as compassionate people who also value ourselves and our work, do to provide labor support for others when fee is a genuine issue?

It helps to break down the numbers, to recognize exactly what it is we are investing into a free birth. Most doulas incur expenses for every birth we attend. In addition to training and certification, we have expenses for transportation, childcare, meals, internet for email access, cell phones for being on-call, and hospital parking, just to name a few. On average, I have a minimum of $165 in costs per birth, and that’s before I pay taxes on any income I may have. “I’ll do it for free”, when looked at this way, actually becomes “I’ll pay you to let me attend your birth.”  When we’re attending births in this way, it becomes an expensive hobby more than a profession. Most doulas simply do not have the means to work in this way long-term. So, what is a doula to do?

1) Volunteer for a Non-Profit organization.  Many such organizations already exist – a simple web search for “non-profit labor support” and the name of your state may turn up several results. The non-profits that exist in the area in which I live also act as a referral service for their doulas who volunteer, so that those who can afford doula care are more easily able to find the doulas who serve in their area. Non-profits have standards to determine who qualifies for care, and are able to not only provide labor support, but parenting guidance and health education to mamas in need. Through doulas volunteering for small and specific amounts of time, far more women are able to receive help than would be served by one doula alone. The same 40 hours you would contribute to one mama might instead help many! Not a non-profit in your area? Maybe it’s time to consider starting one. Non-profits generate income through grants and donations from outside sources, so that those running the show are able to receive income for the work that they do. Businesses are far more eager to donate time, money, and services to non-profit organizations, because they also benefit from the tax deduction.

  2) Donate to your own charity.  Many people have been raised with the tradition of giving a portion of your income to the greater good of others. For every birth I attend, I set aside a percentage as a charity fund. Then, when I am working with someone who is in a position of not having the means for my full fee, I am able to say “I am currently able to offer you a discount of this amount”, that being the cumulative amount that has been set aside. The more I work for pay, the more I have in this fund to offer. The more I am blessed with abundance, the more I have to give to bless others. Rather than working for free, this practice creates sustainability for future services.

  3) Do It Like the Doctors Do.   Do it as a group! Physicians who work in groups have support in sharing appointment times and on-call schedules. Doctors who thrive in private practice work may sometimes choose to offer their time in community clinics or in mission work. The difference between this service and a doula taking on a “free birth” client is that the physician, as part of a group of volunteers, is able to offer a reasonable and finite period of time in a way that serves the greater good of many at once. It is a widely accepted truth that “many hands make light the work”. When everyone gives a little, no one needs to do more than her share. A group of doulas coming together to offer support are able to each give a few hours of their time in a way that benefits many. Women’s shelters, support networks, and many other service organizations may be eager to receive volunteers.  Offer low-cost labor support classes for women at your local library, or in a doctor’s office. Teaching a free ” labor support” class, which I do once a month for a couple of hours, can provide support 4 to 6 mamas at a time in creating a better birth experience for themselves. It is not up to one doula to spread herself as thin as possible, when there are easier ways to teach others to offer good support to mamas in need.

   4) Offer a sliding scale or a “pay as you can” program.  Have a passion for supporting teen moms, or military families?  Offer a discount. Be clear about the value of your services, and also be willing to make it affordable. Those facing true financial challenge through difficult life circumstances benefit from being allowed the dignity of making an arrangement that works for them.  It’s perfectly fine to say, “This is my typical fee range. I am willing to work with you on ways we can make this possible for you. I need you to let me know honestly what will be reasonable and affordable for you. If I can accept that, we will create a payment schedule together.” Put your agreements in writing, and hold one another accountable for being in integrity with your word, just as you would with any other client. A doula’s fee is an investment that the mother makes in her own empowered birth. People value more what they have invested in for themselves. Be mindful of the difference between empowering and enabling.

5) Be willing to barter. I’ve not ever turned a family away based on ability to pay, but I do treat every family as though they, too, have worth and something of value to offer. Money is simply a means of exchange. We put forth our time, energy, and effort into our work. In turn, we are paid in money. We then exchange this money for the other things we want or need. If money as a means-of-exchange is not available, then there is likely a solution that involves another way of trading time, energy, and effort. Those who are offering a service can reasonably expect a fair offer in exchange for their service. I prefer the energy of this sort of exchange, whether it’s barter or pay-what-you-can, over the message of “you have nothing worth offering to me, so I’m not even going to go there”. For me, it’s choosing a message of empowerment over one of pity. This doesn’t mean that there must be a dollar-for-dollar value “equal exchange”, but that the energy exchange for all involved is proportionally and equitably balanced.

  6) Mentor a Student.  Experienced and seasoned doulas are in the wonderful position of being able to share our wisdom with those who are just starting out. Offering a few hours of time to a student doula supports not only the new doula, but the doula community as a whole. If newer doulas in your area help contribute to the reputation of doulas  as being well-trained and highly skilled service providers, everyone wins. The busier new doulas are, the more people will know about doulas, and the busier we will all become.  Student doulas are sometimes in the position of having lower fees than more seasoned doulas may be. I do not hesitate, when speaking to a mama who is facing financial challenge, to say “I’m currently working with a student doula. Her fee may be more affordable to you, and you will have the benefit of her being able to call me for support and guidance during the time that she is providing your doula care.” In this way, I’m seeing to it that the mama has good support, and the bulk of my time remains free to take on paying clients (who in turn are contributing to my charity fund, which in turn opens the way for more to receive care. Again, the goal here is to provide sustainability.) All I need to be available for is a couple of phone calls along the way from a student. My cost involved is minimal.  Comparing apples to apples, when I contribute in this way, I’ve helped 20 births with the same 40 hours that I would otherwise have given to one woman for one birth, the student receives fair pay, and my expenses have been lower.

  7) Be a Birth Activist.  Though many insurance companies are beginning to reimburse for doula fees, many more need to get on board. Encourage your mamas to call their insurance companies and ask them to cover for doula support. You can talk to your local hospital, and encourage them to provide universal doula care, so that this expense would be covered in the same way as their in-house lactation consultants. Talk with doctors and midwives about providing doula care for their patients by having doulas on staff.  This would decrease the overall expense to your doctor or hospital, and would also make doula care available for all! Lobby your state legislature to include doula care in their state-provided medical coverage, so that low income families have the benefit of doula care.

 

Those of us who value our work, and know the worth of what we do, are able to be compassionate and of service to those in need in a myriad of ways. These are some that have worked for me and others connected to my practice. What has worked for you?

 

Like this article?  Come “like” Jodi the Doula on Facebook for more! 

 

Your Doctor Said What?!

“Oh, this baby is at least seven pounds. How big was your last one? Six pounds? And you pushed for two hours? Oh, then this one’s not coming out that way. We need to take you back for a c-section, right now.” (Said to a natural-birthing mother with no complications at near-complete dilation)

“You were 5 centimeters two hours ago. I’m going to check you now, and if you’re not at least 7 or 8, it’s time for a section.” (This was said immediately prior to an internal exam. The exam showed that she was 7, progressing normally, and delivered vaginally in a few hours)

“Your due date was yesterday. You’re not in labor. That means I want to get an induction going. Sure, everything is fine now, but there are no guarantees. Why wait until something is wrong? You do it my way, and you lose your birth plan. Do it your way, you could lose your baby.”

“You got here four hours ago.  You were 7 centimeters. Your baby isn’t here yet. Your labor is taking too long.” (Mama was completely effaced and dilated, just beginning to have an urge to push.)

“These American women. Always want their way.”

“Look, you’re at the hospital because you want people to help you. If you keep saying ‘no” to the things I offer, you’re not letting me help. I don’t appreciate this.” (Doctor had offered morphine and an epidural to a mama who wished to birth without pain medicine.)

“No, you can’t squat. This isn’t a field in Africa. Lie down. On your back, now.”

“Sure, we can wait another hour. But do you want to take a live baby home?”

These are only a few of thousands of discouraging and disparaging statements made to laboring women by their trusted care providers. These are ones that I have heard personally, with my own ears.  They were said to women having normal births with no complications. They were said to intimidate, to exert power over, to control. They were said to bully and manipulate through fear, and it worked.

No woman in her right mind could hear these things and continue to make rational decisions. Hardly any woman could be faced with this and continue to be an active participant in her own care. She could hardly even be expected to hear any words that came next.

When a mama hears them, she feels frightened. The pain that she has been coping with beautifully is suddenly more than she can bear. She cries. She loses it. She screams and grabs for the hand of her partner like a drowning woman clinging on for life. She loses faith in her body, her baby, and herself. Her only thought becomes that of rescue. “Help me! Save me! Save my baby!”

When I hear them, I feel angry. I feel my blood boil, my hands shake, and my jaw go tight. My teeth clench closed, to bite back the words that are flying to my tongue.

What I want to say is, “Don’t you see what you’re doing to her?”

What I want to say is, “Who taught you to say that?”

What I want to say is, “Are you even listening to yourself?”

What I want to say is, “Why are you doing this?”

What I want to say is, “What do you have against a woman trusting her own body to handle the pain?”

What I do say is nothing. I plant my feet. I pray in my head. I take a breath. I urge my mama to do the same. I use my voice to pull her out of the other-world she has just dropped into.  “Look at me. Right here. Breathe. Good. You’re ok. You’ve got this. I’ve got you. Feel my hand here? Good. Look at me. Breathe. You’re ok. You’re safe. Stay here with us. Let’s hear what the doctor wants to say. What do you want to ask?”

It shouldn’t be this way. Not for this mama, not for any mama.

Some people become OBs because they love birthing women, and want to provide excellent care for them. Some, it seems, become OBs because they hate women, and they’re the only one who knows how to fix what’s wrong with them. Shut them up. Make them obey. Do as they’re told.  There are few official repercussions for this – babies get born, mamas are still alive and physically well. Emotional wreckage isn’t medically significant. There’s no way to measure it, or even prove that it happened. But ask the mama – her story is real. It is painful, and lasting.

I’m just the doula. I’m not there to have an opinion. I’m not there for medical judgement calls – that’s way over my head. I’m there for comfort.

No woman should have to be comforted after a fear-inducing verbal assault from a person she has chosen to trust.

This is not a medical opinion, it’s a human opinion. It may be true, in that moment, that something seems not right. Sometimes birth needs help. No one questions that interventions, including cesarean birth, have saved countless lives.  Normal, healthy and sane women don’t typically say, “No, I don’t care about my baby, so just do this my way.” The very notion of that is ridiculous. It doesn’t need to happen this way – not when kindness is an option.

So I bite my tongue. I comfort. I do what I can to pick up the pieces and move forward.

Sometimes, it’s a doula’s job to show up, listen, observe, and be the one to witness that yes, that was wrong. That should never have happened. I’m sorry that it did. I wish I could change it. Yes, it’s ok to feel what you’re feeling, and it’s ok if you need to feel through that for a little while, or for a long time.

I take time to thank every practitioner I know who moves through their work with integrity, respect, dignity for all, and a remarkable capacity to continue to care. Thank you for doing it right. Thank you for giving it your best. Thank you for remembering, always, that though you may have attended hundreds of births, this is a mama’s first baby, and her story matters.

And I write it down so others may learn, because it’s what I know how to do.

 

The Goddess in the Birthing Mother

Aztec_goddessThe birthing mother is sacred.

Throughout time, her stories have been told.

She is Mary, chosen and blessed, embracing the mystery of  a miracle within her own skin, holding fear and joy and wonder at once, and contemplating them in her heart.

She is Persephone,  daughter-turned-woman,  emerging from her own spiraled-in darkness  into the light of a new day with  insurmountable celebration.

She is Luna, her full-moon belly ripe and round.

She is Pachamama, Earth Mother with the strength to move mountains, whispering seeds into life, bringing bountiful harvest.

She is Shakti, creative life force energy embodied.

She is Gaia, growing a world in her womb.

She is Yemaya of the ocean, carrying in her belly the waters from which all life has emerged.

She is Xochiquetzal, young and vibrant, adorned with flowers and green feathers, luxuriating in the pleasure of life.

She is Sheela-Na-Gig, open wide, shamelessly proclaiming that it is right that she is woman.

She is Kali-Ma,  with her multitasking many arms tirelessly in motion, fearlessly standing at the gate between life and death, releasing with no regret the reality that was, and calling in with her fierce warrior love the new soul that comes forth.

She is Kwan Yin, of infinite tears, the endless well of selfless love, enduring all suffering with compassion beyond measure.

She is Miriam, who even in her fear in the darkest hours of struggle, takes one more step forward  in faith and carries a heart prepared to praise and dance.

She is Demeter, who grieves the loss of the life she has cherished, and anticipates the change that is to come.

She is Artemis the warrior, and Diana the huntress, with arrows at the ready, with apologies to none in doing what needs to be done to keep her babies safe and their bellies full.

She is Hathor, the wife, mother, and lover, Queen of dancing and singing, who is filled with joy.

She is not a poor thing; not a patient to be managed, a weakling to be coddled, or a victim to be pitied. She is Woman, powerful and strong. She is worthy of honor, respect, and protection from those who would bring her harm. She is deserving of being held gently by those who know what privilege it is to be in her presence and hold the sacred space in which she may unfold. So may it be.

You Know You’re a Doula When…

You Know You’re a Doula When…

1) Everyone you know talks openly to you about their various gross body functions, and you don’t bat an eye.

2) You find nothing odd about answering an email about placenta encapsulation while eating breakfast.

3) You have received a text message with a picture of a mucus plug and the words “Is this normal?”

4) Your cell phone is never more than two feet away, and a duffel bag lives in the trunk of your car.

5) Your voicemail recording has instructions on what to do if the caller is in labor. Every friend and family member you have has left at least one “Help! I’m in labor!” message. They all think they’re the first.

6) You’ve come to recognize the glazed look on your partner’s face when you’re about to go on another Evidence Based Birth rant.

7) You’ve ever said, “Maybe we should take two cars. I’m on call.”

8) You’re always the mom who’s a “maybe” on the PTA volunteer list.

9) Every commitment you make includes the words “unless I’m at a birth”.

10) You’ve heard the birth stories of your child’s school teachers, the cashier at the convenience store, and every person you’ve ever met at a dinner party. You haven’t asked for them.

11) Your three year old knows, and properly uses, the word “vulva”, and YOUR kid was the one on the playground explaining where babies come from.

12) You’ve talked with a mama about sore nipples…on your cell phone…in a public place… in front of three total strangers…while waiting to have your oil changed… while accompanied by your teenaged son… and neither of you found anything unusual in this.

13) You automatically anticipate the “You’re a what?” that inevitably follows “What do you do for a living?”, and your well-rehearsed ten second “Here’s how I’m not a midwife” answer is already prepared.

14) Without blushing, you’ve told a couple to go home and have sex.

15) You’ve enthusiastically said, “Oh, you’re throwing up! That’s a great sign of progress!”

16) You’ve mastered the art of walking the line between biting your tongue until there’s a hole in it, and offering factual information at the right time and place.

17) You’ve learned how to ask a question and facilitate a conversation without giving an instruction or voicing an opinion.

18) You’ve wanted to leap across the room to  hug the nurse who said, “Oh, I’m sure intermittent monitoring is going to be fine. Let me just call the doc real quick about that right now.”

19)  Likewise, you’ve felt a knot in your stomach at the words, “You know, it’s not like more pain gives you a better baby.”

20) You’ve been the one who has held a hand, wiped the tears, and said “I’m so sorry” when there’s nothing else that can be said.

21) You know the feeling of of speaking softly and keeping a mama calm while your own heart is pounding in your chest.

22) Your family has asked you to please not watch childbirth reality shows because you keep yelling “Get her off her back!” at the TV.

23) Your sons won’t bring girlfriends home, for fear that you’ll say something about birth options and breastfeeding.

24) Whether it’s “surges”, “waves”, “expansions” or “contractions”, you speak multiple childbirth method languages fluently.

25) When a doc has said, “Let’s just all remember who is delivering this baby”, you’ve looked a mama in the eyes and whispered, “YOU are.”

So, what’s your “I knew I was a doula when…” moment? Comment and share!

**Thanks Chris M, Sara S, and Shannon S for helping me brainstorm.

Like this post? Come “like” Jodi the Doula on Facebook here for your daily dose of birth wisdom with a side of laughter.

 

 

 

Too Late for a Doula?

Most mamas who are looking for a doula tend to find me at sometime in their second trimester. This allows for a nice window of time in which we can get to know one another. Through regular phone check-ins after doctor or midwife appointments and our  in-home visits, I get to know a lot about someone’s wishes for her birth. I learn what comforts her, what she’s afraid of, and what she dreams of for her birth. Every now and then, though, I’ll get a call or an email from a mama who asks, “Is it to late for me to hire a doula for my birth?”  The short answer is, “No.”

I’ll usually ask when her baby is due, and assure her that if I’m not available, I can help her find someone who likely would be. I remember one such conversation in particular. She called one afternoon to say, “I’ve only just learned about doulas, and I know that I really want one for my birth. I’m hoping that you’re available.” “I might be”‘, I said, “When is your baby due?”  “Four days ago.”

Four days ago? And you’re calling me today? Wow. Okay. After chatting for about an hour about why she hoped to have a doula, we made an appointment to meet  at a local coffee shop the next afternoon. As it happened, she called early the next morning to cancel our appointment because she was in labor! She asked me to meet her at the hospital, and after a moment of consideration, I agreed.

It was a whirlwind relationship – the birth world equivalent to a blind date that ends in a Vegas wedding.  I brought my service agreement paperwork with me, asked questions about her preferences as we went along, and watched what she tended to do naturally to comfort herself, using these observations to make suggestions along the way. I paid attention to her interactions with her husband, and helped involve him to the fullest extent of his own comfort level. I reminded her that it was fine if she needed to be abrupt in her feedback to me as she was focusing on her labor. I helped her navigate conversations with her doctor. I offered words of encouragement, kept the room quiet and softly lit, and other little things I had done at many births before.

In the end, she was delighted with her birth, and happy that she’d had doula support. We didn’t have to know one another well for doula care to make a difference in her experience. Since then, there have been a few other late-in-the-game mamas who have called, including one who was given my number by her L&D nurse after she was admitted to the hospital. These short-term client relationships are fast and intense, but do-able. It’s better to have a doula that you haven’t had much time with than it is to want a doula and not have one.

So, if you’re asking yourself if it’s too late for you, my answer is that as long as the baby is still in your belly, there’s still time. Make that call. You’ll be glad you did.

Blessings on the Mama

belly

Today we celebrate the women who birthed us and gave us life. Let us also celebrate all women as mothers, whether we bring forth  babies or ideas – it is the creative and nourishing and  life-growing effort of the women, all of the women, that brings new energy and weaves together the circles that are birthing change in the world.

Let’s honor the mothers whose babies are missing from their arms, and those whose wombs have not carried the children they long for. Blessings on the mothers who snuggle in comfort and privilege with their precious newborns, and those who rock the babes who struggle for survival. Honor  the mamas who have nothing, who strive and toil for hours on end at multiple jobs to provide for their little ones. Let us honor the mothers who loved us well, and honor those whose mothers never knew how to love. We honor the mothers who are doing their best, even when their best doesn’t look very good.

Bless the mothers who have passed on, and the children who miss them dearly. We honor the mothers whose mothers choose not to speak to them, and the mothers who are surrounded by loving community and support. Bless the mama who birthed her child in joy and bliss, and the mama who birthed the child she resented carrying in her body.

Bless the mamas to be, and the mama who won’t hear from her children today. Bless the women who have many children, and the women who have chosen to have none. Bless the mamas who are loved by soulmates, and the mamas who are lonely. Bless the good mamas and the rotten mamas and the happy mamas and the crazymaking mamas and the sad mamas and the singing mamas and the mamas who can’t find their voices and remain in silence.  Bless the mama who stands in her power, and the mama who wants nothing more than to be seen.

Today, we honor the women – all women – who are mothers. Let us also honor the women – all women – who have had mothers, and have loved mothers, and the Great Mother and the Holy Mother and the Mother Earth we all call home.

Let’s put an end – all of us – to the story of the “I’m not good enough” mother and the “She’s wrong for not doing it my way” mother and come together as women, as mothers, to celebrate each other and love one another and see that we’re all doing the best we can.

Blessings on the mamas, and blessings on the journey.

Taming the Gossip Monster

“If you haven’t got anything nice to say about anybody come sit next to me.” ― Alice Roosevelt Longworth

I remember in second grade learning to play a game called Telephone. We’d sit in a circle on the floor. The teacher would think of a silly sentence, and whisper it in one child’s ear. The first child would repeat it to the second, and so on around the circle until it came all the way around. The last child would repeat what she had heard, and the circle would erupt into silly giggles at the nonsense that the words had morphed into. It always ended up radically different from how it had begun, even when only a few people were playing, as we all added a tiny bit of our own perception.

It easy to see, as adults, how gossip happens in the same way. No circle is immune to it – it happens in classrooms, in the work place, on internet forums, at family gatherings. Not even the birth community, with all of its warm-fuzziness, is excluded. Gossip, a sharp and poisonous weapon, severs connections, kills trust, and tears people apart.

So, what is gossip, exactly?  It is anything said to bring  another person down, when that person is not there to defend herself. It is seeing anyone do something wrong, and choosing to take the story to another person instead of confronting the offender. It is speaking of another person’s experience, instead of one’s own. It is the sharing of private information to make the teller appear better than someone else. Gossip is acting with the intention to create questions or doubts about another person’s character.

Gossip is gossip even when the speaker believes it to be the truth.  It’s gossip, even when it begins with “I don’t mean to gossip, but…” It is damaging even when it is presented as being compassionate or concerned about someone else. “I feel so bad for so-and-so because…” or “We should really pray for her because…”, though worded kindly, can be used to cast another person in a bad light.

People often gossip from a lack of self-esteem, to make others appear “less than”, with the intention to change the way someone feels about another person. It’s an act of  hostility – revealing the feeling of anger without actually owning up to feeling it. It’s like saying, “Look at me! If I can clearly see this flaw in his character, it means that my own character is better, and you should think more highly of me.”  It’s an easier and faster way to feel good about oneself than owning up to and working on one’s own flaws. It’s Schadenfreude – feeling better about oneself from the misfortune of another.

The Buddhists say that everyone is a mirror – that we only see in others what we know, consciously or subconsciously, to be true about ourselves. This means that anyone repeating what they’ve heard is telling you more about himself or herself than they are about another person. By the same token, the Christian Bible asks humankind, “Why are you worried about the splinter in your friend’s eye, when you have a log in your own?” (Matthew 7:3) Author Anais Nin said, “We don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are.”  Common 12-step wisdom teaches, “If you spot it, you’ve got it.” One way or another, it all boils down to “What you see is thee.”

This is part of the work of living the path of being in service to others – to identify and work on our own issues, so that we can be present to the needs of another without our own baggage getting in the way. Being triggered by seeing or hearing something we don’t like  is an opportunity to ask, “What is this about for me? When have I felt this way before, and what can I do about it now?”

To build a strong support network, create a strong family, or contribute to a functional working environment, knowing how to handle gossip is a necessary skill. So, what can you do when the Gossip Monster rears her ugly head? Here are a few steps to get you off to a good start:

*Expect it. We’re all human. We all like to belong, and to be thought of well. We all feel insecure sometimes, and might speak without thinking. Sooner or later, you’re going to hear something that isn’t very nice being said about someone else. Decide now what you will do when that happens.

* Reject it. Don’t believe anything you haven’t checked out for yourself. Approach the person being spoken about, if you have the opportunity. Listen to both sides of a story first, asking questions and seeking out the truth.

* Speak up, and step out. “The person you are talking about isn’t here. I’m probably not the person you need to talk to. Have you approached her about it directly?” Correct the behavior politely, without listening to more, and redirect the gossiping person to make peace with the person with whom they have the problem. Say what you would like to have said if it were about you. Don’t be surprised if the gossiping person now becomes annoyed with you, instead. It’s no fun to gossip with someone who won’t be part of it, and who won’t think better of you for it.

* Don’t repeat what you hear. Always give the benefit of the doubt toward the person being spoken against.  Our integrity is only as strong as the next person who repeats our words.

*Be accountable for your own actions. If you have been involved in spreading gossip about another, it’s never too late to make it right. Approach the person you might have repeated gossip to, and let them know that you wish it hadn’t been said. Reach out to the person you were talking about, and  give them the courtesy of letting them know that this mis-information is out there, and that you’re sorry for your role in it.

*Make a conscious decision to continue to learn and grow. Commit yourself to finding joy in the well-being of others. This includes not being part of tearing another person down. Hold yourself responsible for thinking before you speak, and for acting as the person you wish to be. In the long run, this will build you up, and bring more happiness to yourself and each life you touch.

*Choose your relationships wisely. A person who is willing to say, “Do you know what I heard?” to you will also be willing to say it about you. Make the decision to invest your time and energy in people who model what you wish to be. 

 

“How would your life be different if…You walked away from gossip and verbal defamation? Let today be the day…You speak only the good you know of other people and encourage others to do the same.”
― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

When we remember that we are all in this together, and we treat one another with dignity and respect, we all win.

 

Like this article? Come “like” Jodi the Doula on facebook here! 

The Season of Lasts

“Cherish this. Enjoy every moment. It goes so fast.”  How many new mamas have heard this, over and over? They were words I resented. I’d silently seethe at the way that age had made mothers nostalgic, knowing that cherishing every moment was simply impossible. I’d had two babies in two years. Most of my moments in the day-to-day involved at least one person crying (me, as often as not) and body fluids of one sort or another on my clothing or in my hair. Exhaustion was a constant; so was laundry. I had a non-stop toddler with food allergies that necessitated making every bite he ate from scratch. I had an infant who had only two modes – screaming, or asleep from having exhausted himself screaming. The highlight of my day was walking to the mailbox. Cherish every moment? You’ve gotta be kidding. What I would really cherish is a nap, by myself, for three hours, without waking up having been peed on.

My mantra for survival was “this too shall pass.” The endless diapers, the toddler tantrums, the sleep deprivation, the toys on the floor from one end of the house to the other, the laundry, the soaked bathroom floor – all parts of my daily life that were merely tolerated. Knowing that they would one day end was the only thought that would get me through without screaming at anyone – most of the time, anyway.

There were memorable sweet things, to be sure.  I captured all I could in pictures. Occasionally I wrote them down in journals that my sons now treasure.  I knew that the time would come when all I that I could now recall so easily would be far enough into the past that I’d appreciate the reminder. I could see in my boys, even then, the personalities that would emerge as who I know now. Zack, whose daily challenge is finding patience, ran before he walked. Cole, whose scientific mind finds the endless wonder in the details, chose “Wow!” as his first word after “Mama”.

I remember the firsts – the car ride home from the hospital, the teeth, the steps, the holidays. I remember the milestones – the potty training, and riding a two-wheeler, the tying of shoes, and writing of names, and making goalie on the soccer team. The goldfish and hamster funerals, followed by the passing of great-grandparents,  opened the doors for conversations about God and lifetimes and energy and spirit.  Even amidst the noise and chaos that was the everyday, those were are the moments when I reminded myself to stop. Notice this. Pay attention. This is new. You’ll want to remember this.

As I marvel at the young men they have become, I recognize now the moments that have slipped by me. As we went through the good days, and the bad days, and the days that just passed with the rhythm of meals and laundry and playgroups and bedtime, it’s the final times that have vanished with the subtlety and slowness that comes with the changing of time, unrecorded.

When was the last time that Zack called me into his bedroom to sing Puff the Magic Dragon just one more time? When was the last time he could fit in my lap? I recall the endless stories of “Freddy the Squirrel” – made up tales of a little rascal rodent who coincidentally faced the same obstacles in his life as my boys found in theirs – Mama’s way of offering social skill advice without lecture. When did Freddy face his last challenge, to be tucked away as a memory? When was I last asked if I had time to play a game? When did I last have to kneel down to look a boy in the eye? When was the last “Just one more chapter, Mama, please?”  When did that last little baby tooth fall out? When was the last time I kissed a smooth cheek without noticing stubble or having to stand on my toes?

These moments I cherished dearly, and the lasts passed unnoticed anyway. The constants of the seemingly endless days of childhood have come to pass, their final times unremembered.   It isn’t so true that “it goes so fast” – it’s not like the grandmothers warn it will be. In the deep of it all, the moments seem like hours, and the days pass so slowly. It’s the lull of the sameness that makes the realization of change come as a shock. The transformation from boy to man happened right under my nose, right in front of my own eyes, such a little bit at a time that I didn’t even know it was happening until it already had.  The house is clean. Their laundry is done, and I didn’t lift a finger. There are no toys to be picked up.  The yard, once full of holes and fairy houses,  is beautifully landscaped – Cole’s proud handiwork. The afternoons pass in silence as they study, or read, or text with friends. I find myself alone in the kitchen when dinner is being made.

Firsts happen still. I remember now the past summer that Cole’s voice deepened from a little boy’s soprano to a booming bass so suddenly that he had to learn volume control all over again. Learning to tie a tie and the first “real date” with a girl are both  in the recent rearview of the past few weeks, and the first jobs are on the horizon for the summer.  The first “here’s how to use the day planner in your phone” has happened, teaching the skills of organization and efficiency. I know that more firsts will come – borrowing the car keys, and college applications, and voting, and falling in love, and broken hearts. Where the firsts were once the milestones that I anticipated and rejoiced in, wrote down, and committed to heart, they are now moments of bittersweet.

With each first,  I witness their changing, so proud of who they are becoming, so in awe of the young men of character that they already are, and knowing daily that each “be home before dinner” brings us closer to our last. I remember daily that the journey of parenting is, indeed, the longest goodbye. I give thanks, daily, for just one more day, for one more time to call them to the table, and one more time to kiss them goodnight while they are still here under my roof. I give thanks for this day to teach them the skills that they will need to be men of power and compassion and grace in the world. I find myself now saying, “Hey, bud, got time to go for a walk with me?”  I initiate the conversations that I want to be sure I’ve made time to fit in – wisdom that I want to be sure they’ve heard before they venture into the world, continuing their life lessons on their own. I remind them now, “In this life, know two things for sure – there is a God, and your mother loves you.”

Soon will come the time when it will have to suffice to know that I’ve done the best I can, and the rest will have to happen on its own.  I cherish, now, this season of lasts, knowing that one day this, too, will pass.

 

Like this article? Come “like” Jodi the Doula on Facebook here

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries