Archive | 2011

Poem: Sons

Every so often I wake up in the morning with a fully-formed poem in my mind. In 2006, five days after composing the poem below, I gave birth to my second son, Zander (just as seven dreams told me prenatally). Fantastic two-hour homebirth of a 9lbs 2oz baby!

Sons

I sense a future for myself as a mother of sons.

Curious, vibrant, full of life energy.

Will I be able to nurture them into

Good men?

Warm hearts, strong hands.

Compassionate, responsive, confident.

Happy and balanced in their lives.

For now, one son.

Not yet three.

Bright eyes, big smile

Wonderful way with words.

Generous with hugs and kisses and

“I so love you mommy!”

Loves slides at parks

And painting

And dictating sculptures.

Bursting with life and

Shining with possibility.

Full of ideas, words, and vigor.

The prospect of another waits

Close beneath my skin.

Thirty-nine weeks of mystery.

My sense of the future unfolding.

~~~~~

Molly Remer

5/24/06

My sons: St. Pat's 2011

Abusive or Honest?

Jun20

I recently finished reading the book, Breakthrough: How the 10 Greatest Discoveries in Medicine Saved Millions and Saved the World, which I got for free on my Kindle. The section about germ theory talked about Ignaz Semmelweis, of course, and his conviction that it was an “invisible particle” carried by physician to woman that was causing “childbed fever” to be a rampant problem in hospitals. (I appreciated that the book noted that mortality rates for women attended by midwives or giving birth in their own homes were very low compared to hospital-based physicians.) During the latter part of his life, Semmelweis became very agitated by the failure of his colleagues to recognize the validity of his theory of the cause of childbed fever and began sending them, “vicious letters.” An example included in the book was the following:

Your teaching, Herr Hofrath, is based on the dead bodies of women slaughtered through ignorance…If, sir, you continue to teach your students and midwives that puerperal fever is an ordinary disease, I proclaim you before God and the world to be an assassin…

The author goes on to explain that Semmelweis later died in a mental institution and that, “Ironically, some contend that Semmelweis’ final vitriolic attacks against his colleagues constituted a third key milestone: His abusive letters may have helped raise awareness years later, as other evidence for germ theory began to accumulate.”

I find it fascinating that his frustration and anger towards his colleagues is described as “abusive” and “vitriolic,” when Semmelweis wrote a book, presented papers, and spoke with other professionals at length about the issue and was dismissed and even mocked for his ideas. When his (correct!) theory continued to be ignored and women continued to die, isn’t he a little entitled to be angry and express that?! I think he was being honest in his letters, not abusive. It made me think of how women are dismissed as being “drama queens” for being upset about unnecessary cesareans and that the terms “birthrape” or “birth trauma” are viewed by some as too “extreme” and how the medical profession all too often continues to NOT practice evidence based maternity care with regard to a variety of issues from restrictions on freedom of movement, to continuous fetal monitoring without indication, to risky induction of labor procedures, to cesareans for “failure to progress.” In the future, these experiences and women’s and birth advocates’ “vitriolic” reactions to them may be viewed through the same lens in which I view Semmelweis’ attempts to share his findings—they were trying to tell people something really important after all.

In another section of the book, the author says, “Scientific medicine has never been shy to dismiss if not denigrate any perceived threat to its values or power.” We continue to regularly see this in maternity care today!

The Rhythm of Our Lives

Jun18

This article was originally published in New Beginnings magazine (publication of La Leche League International) in 2007. As I’ve noted, I’m making an effort to “centralize” my written pieces into one location—bringing things here that I’ve written for other blogs or for other publications.

The Rhythm of Our Lives

Nursing & Reading, 2007

by Molly Remer

2007

When I became a mother, many things in my life changed. I was startled and dismayed by the magnitude in which my free time diminished and one by one many of my leisure pursuits and hobbies were discarded. The time for one of my favorite hobbies increased exponentially, however, and this was a very pleasant surprise. That hobby is reading. As a child I was a voracious reader—my mother had to set a limit for me of “only two books a day.” In college and graduate school, reading for fun fell away and I spent six years reading primarily textbooks and journal articles. In the years following, I began to read for pleasure again and when my first baby was born in 2003, I once again became a truly avid reader. Why? Because of breastfeeding. As I nursed my little son, I read and read and read. I devoured mostly nonfiction with occasional fiction as “dessert.”

At first I scoured The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding and the Sears’ The Baby Book to try to make sense of my new life and then began to gobble up books about motherhood and women’s experiences of mothering. Reading did actually help me adjust to motherhood. Subtitled “Breastfeeding as a Spiritual Practice,” an article published in the fall 2003 issue of Mothering magazine was immensely meaningful to me. My baby was about two weeks old when the magazine arrived—the first issue I had received after his birth. This article was in it and it was exactly what I needed to read. Breastfeeding can be a meditative and spiritual act–it is actually a “practice” a “discipline” of sorts. The author, Leslie Davis, explains it better:

I realized I’d never before devoted myself to something so entirely. Of course I’ve devoted myself to my husband, to my family, to friends, to my writing, to mothering, and even to God and other spiritual endeavors at various points in my life…I’d completely given myself to this act of nursing in a way that I never had before. Nothing was more important than nursing my son. Nothing was put before it. There was no procrastination as with exercise, no excuses as with trying to stop eating sugar, no laziness as with housecleaning and other chores. Nursing had to be done, and I did it, over and over again, multiple times a day, for more than 800 days in a row. It was the closest thing to a spiritual practice that I’d ever experienced.

Viewing the act of breastfeeding through a spiritual lens like this was a lifeline to me as a vulnerable, sensitive, and bruised postpartum woman trying desperately to adjust my pace as an overachieving “successful” independent person to one spending hours in my nursing chair attached to a tiny mouth. I marvel at the uncountable number of times I spent nursing Lann and that I now spend nursing my second son, Zander. I calculate that I’ve probably nursed Zander about 3,000 times just lying down to go to sleep (nap or bedtime, plus waking up times too). That is just the lying down times, not the sitting in the chair or standing in the Ergo baby carrier times. This is the key to my reading success–I’ve had over 3,000 opportunities during the last year to pick up a book or other reading materials!

In 2007, I read approximately 150 books. I lie in my “nest” with my baby nursing and my older son resting near my back. The baby is nourished by me and in this pause in the busyness of life I am in turn nourished by the access he allows me to the printed word. As he grows bigger with my milk, I also “grow” intellectually and in the opportunity for spiritual and emotional renewal. As the baby drifts off I read to myself and when he is asleep I read stories to my four year old. This is the rhythm of our lives—suck, swallow, read, and consider.

——-

With my current baby, my reading “landscape” has changed again, since I now have a Kindle! 🙂

Happy Father’s Day!

Jun17

My man and his kids!

“No one can describe to a man what having his own child will mean to him. Words simply cannot do justice; each man needs to discover it for himself.”

“Fatherhood challenges us, but it also enlarges us and reshapes our perception of what is important in the world around us. As we take stock of this new world, we find that doing our job as a dad is inherently honorable and respectful, and brings to us the dignity that goes with the territory. Far from being emasculating, being a dad makes us men in the finest sense of the term.” —Dads Adventure

Both of the above quotes come from a wonderful article from Dads Adventure about The Dignity of Being a Dad. Make sure to check out the associated Father’s Day Flashmob in Denver and keep watching until the 3.5 minute point—loved this part especially and it made me cry! I really appreciate this new “brotherhood of dads” movement and hope it becomes widely known! I have used materials from Dads Adventure in my birth classes for quite some time. More often than not, the wife comments to me privately about how her husband appreciated receiving materials that were specifically for him.

Here are some links to past posts I’ve made about fatherhood:

And, from Mother’s Advocate, here is a great article with some specifics for new(ish) fathers:

Sex After Baby: A How-To Guide for Partners (an associated post called Sex, Lies, & the Postpartum Year is also very good)

Birthing the Mother-Writer (or: Playing My Music, or: Postpartum Feelings, Part 1)

Jun10

A friend and colleague of mine recently wrote some very touching and honest posts about her recent postpartum experiences. It is amazing how powerful the written word can be at clarifying and explaining one’s feelings.

I wrote the following article about my own postpartum feelings several years ago and have submitted to various publications, but it has always been rejected. So, I decided to finally “publish” it here. I plan to then do a follow-up post about my postpartum experiences with my other children.

Birthing the Mother-Writer* (or: Playing My Music)

By Molly Remer

After my first son was born in 2003 I felt silenced. Stifled. Shut down. Squelched. Denied. Invisible. Dissolved. Muted. I felt suffocated, chewed up and my bones spit out, erased, deconstructed, worthless, and useless. (In hindsight, I see the PPD-ish glint behind these feelings, though some of these feelings also featured in my pre-motherhood neuroses.) Postpartum was the most vivid and painful transition point of my life.

I felt slapped in the face by postpartum. I was triumphant and empowered in birth, but diminished, insecure, and wounded postpartum. I had a difficult physical recovery due to unusual labial tearing that was not repaired. I hypothesize that perhaps this contributed to my difficult adjustment to early motherhood. I’ve long tried to analyze the difficulty, concluding that it is not uncommon in the least, but wondering why/how others survive without mentioning this pain. How is anyone doing this? I would wonder, concluding that I must not be “cut out for this” and that I was the only one feeling alone, stifled, shut down, and unheard. As a consistently overachieving type, it was humbling as well as psychologically painful to not “get an A” on this new “assignment,” my baby. Each time he cried, I felt it was evidence of failure, failure, failure. I would see women and couples without children and think, “it isn’t too late for you” and, “if only you knew.” When I would see women who were pregnant I would feel a sense of grief for them, “Just wait. You have NO idea what is coming.”

I felt a duality in motherhood for which I was completely unprepared. How is it possible to feel simultaneously so captivated and yet also so captive, I would wonder. Bonded and also bound.

Maybe these feelings mean I’m egocentric, selfish, or immature (I certainly lectured and berated myself about that!), but they were my reality at the time. The experience was so scarring to me that for about 18 months after my first baby was born I considered not having any more children; not because I couldn’t handle pregnancy, birth, or even the mothering of a baby and toddler, but because I could not stand the idea of experiencing postpartum again. I came to realize that my only regret about these days of early motherhood was not in how I related to my baby, or in how I took care of him, or loved him, or appreciated him, or marveled at him. My regret is that I was so very mean to myself the whole time I did those things—in reality, I was actually fairly skillfully learning how to mother. I was responsive, nurturing, kind, and loving and I took delight in my baby, but I was cruel to myself almost the entire time and failed to appreciate or notice any worth I had as a person or to accept and have patience for my birth as a mother.

When my first son was almost one, I wrote in my journal:

I feel like I have no one to talk to. I feel like no one understands me. I feel like I cannot express what I really feel inside. I feel like no one believes me. I do not feel accepted. I feel like my needs are not being met. I feel burned out. I feel drained. I feel angry. I feel sad. I feel desperately unhappy. I feel guilty. I feel wrong. I feel alone. I feel unworthy. I feel like I am not good. I feel invisible. I feel ignored. I feel small. I feel bad. I feel like I cannot say what I mean and actually be heard. I feel like I can’t explain my “bad” feelings. I feel trapped. I feel suffocated. I feel stressed. I feel overloaded. I feel like snapping. I feel mean. I feel unfair. I feel selfish. I feel disconnected.

I miss Mark. I miss our relationship. I miss feeling right in our marriage. I miss being alone together.

I feel like I am not enjoying motherhood the way I am “supposed” to. I feel confused. I feel conflicted. I feel torn. I feel low. I feel resentful. I feel worried about the future. I feel anxious about being good enough. I feel stretched. I feel taut. I feel like changing.

What helped me a great deal during this time were the voices of other women. Not women face-to-face, though I had begun building a network of wonderful female friends, it seemed too painful or dark to broach the question with them—-“Do you hate this sometimes too?” And I couldn’t really bear to voice my feelings to my own mother, also a tremendous source of support for me, because to risk hearing her say, “Yes, sometimes I did feel tortured by YOU” was not really what I needed. She also has a well-meaning, but frustrating tendency to meet genuine expressions of despair with comments that imply I should put on a happy face. Instead, it was the voices of women reaching off the printed page that met my hunger for contact. For truth. For rawness and a look at the “ugly.” I gobbled up books about motherhood and women’s experiences of mothering and have a permanent place in my heart for the “momoir.”

A quote from Wayne Dyer that serves a recurrent guidepost (or almost obsession) in my life is, “Don’t die with your music still in you.” During my abovementioned painful transition to motherhood I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t letting my “music” out. Then, following the birth of my second son in 2006, sort of accidentally, I began writing again and in earnest this time (articles, essays, blog posts, journals) and later realized that I no longer have any fear about dying with my music still in me. And, I also don’t feel depressed, invisible, worthless, or muted anymore. During my original fretting over this phrase, I felt like it was another type of “music” that I needed to let out (mainly that of the social service work that I had been groomed for in graduate school), not words necessarily. However, I’ve finally realized that maybe it was literally my words dying in me that gave me that feeling and that fretfulness. They needed to get out. I’ve spent a lifetime writing various essays in my head, nearly every day, but those words always “died” in me before they ever got out onto paper. After spending a full three years letting other women’s voices reach me through books and essays, and then six more years birthing the mother-writer within, I continue to feel an almost physical sense of relief and release whenever I sit down to write and to let my own voice be heard.

—–

Molly Remer, MSW, CCCE is a certified birth educator, activist, and writer who lives in a straw bale house in central Missouri with her husband, two young sons, and infant daughter. She blogs about birth at https://talkbirth.wordpress.com.

*title inspired by Literary Mama.

Softening for Birth…

Jun7

I’ve mentioned a couple of time before how much I enjoy The Pink Kit as a resource for birthing couples. This resource has been available for a number of years, but I only bought a copy two years ago. It rapidly became one of my favorite resources! I continue to find new and useful information within the Kit and I really recommend it. It covers very basic, “common knowledge” information and brings it all together in a useful way. There is a heavy emphasis on knowing your body and how it moves and works and on pelvic bodywork. The Pink Kit consists of a DVD, a book, and three more pdf companion books.

An example from the book: “Modern culture often teaches us to be ‘tight’…trim, taut, and terrific! But there is a difference between being fit and well-exercised and having a ‘tight’ body. We understand the need to stay ‘fit’ at this time, but we would also like to encourage you to soften yourself, in preparation for mothering and nurturing your baby. Soften your viewpoint, soften your body, surrender to this awe-inspiring event. We can assure you that in this way, you will be preparing yourself not only for labour, but for the days and years afterward…”

Nursing my baby!

I love this idea of becoming softer in preparation for baby! I also think breastfeeding keeps you “soft”—I know that as I spend time being on many tasks during the day, when I sit down to nurse Alaina I can physically feel my muscles (and mind) loosening and becoming softer. This is one of the gifts that breastfeeding brings.

Alaina’s Complete Birth Story

Jun1

It has taken me a long time to finish typing up Alaina’s birth story. I wrote it in my journal at 3 days postpartum and the following is almost verbatim. I’ve gone back and forth about what to include and decided to just include everything, as originally written. I feel critical of the story somehow, like it is “choppy.” I used interestingly short, jumpy sentences and while part of me want to smooth it out, another part of me feels like it is more authentic in this format. I also feel like I “should” be posting it on a more significant date—i.e. her six month birthday, or something. But, it is finished now, so I feel like sharing now! Additionally, I thought about taking the self-analysis section about the use of a hypnosis for birth program out of the story, but, indeed, this was the FIRST thing I wrote in my journal, so it seems like it “deserves” to be included as well. It obviously was one of the most important details for me to write about. However, for the purposes of clarity, I moved it to the end of the story in this version. Likewise, I thought about making the section about my newborn- love into a separate post, but because those feelings are so intimately entwined with her birth and because, in my journal, that is exactly the chronology I used—first hypnosis criticism, second birth chronology, third baby love–it feels like it all belongs together in one story. It is funny how that first story has such value to me and that it feels almost wrong to edit, change, or add anything to it. It feels most honest this way.

The Birth of Alaina Diana Remer
January 19, 2011
11:15 a.m.
7lbs, 8oz; 20 inches.
Short version of her story is here and labor pictures are here.

I had a restless, up and down night, getting up at 3:00 a.m. and even checked in with my online class. Mark got up with me and we talked and speculated. Waves were four minutes apart and then kind of dissipated unenthusiastically away. He went back to bed at 4:00 and I listened to Hypnobabies. At 6:00, I was feeling trapped lying down and got up. Mark got up then too and worked in the kitchen on the dishes and things like that, while I walked around and leaned on the half wall during contractions (a lot. It was the perfect height). Sitting down in a chair caused horribleness, leaning forward on the ½ wall was good. Called Mom and told her to be on standby and to notify my blessingway crew. Also, called Summer (doula/friend) to be on alert. Felt serious, but not totally. Also was having back involvement which each wave. I felt like I would have a real contraction and then a closely following, but milder, back-only contraction (no tightness in uterus really during these, but definitely a wave-like progression and then ease of sensation).

I was very quiet during most waves until the end. I think because I was doing the Hypnobabies and was concentrating on that. Then, I would talk and analyze and be very normal in between. This pattern seemed to lead to a decreased perception of seriousness from others of my need for attention—Mark washed dishes, went outside to take care of chickens, work on fire, feed cats and so forth. The boys woke up at 7:00 a.m. and as soon as they came out and started talking to me (Mark was outside), I knew they needed to go elsewhere. We called my mom at 7:30ish and she came to get them. I did not want to feel watched or observed at all, so asked her to wait to come back.

I kept waiting for the “action” to increase and feeling distressed that it was taking such a “long” time. I suggested to the baby that she come out by 10:00. I continued to stand in the kitchen and lean on the ½ wall, sometimes the table or the bathroom counter. Dismayed to see no blood/mucous, nothing indicating any “progress.” Significant feelings of pressure and pain in lower back continued and at the time felt normal to me, but looking back seems like an extra dose of back involvement. In another intensity-increasing experience, the baby moved during contractions for the entire labor until the contraction before I pushed her out. She moved, wiggled and pushed out with her bottom and body during each contraction, which really added a new layer of intensity that was difficult. I was, however, glad she was moving because then I knew she was okay, without doing any heart checks.

I went into the living room, very tired from bad sleep during the night. We set up the birth ball in the living room so I could sit on it and drape over pillows piled onto the couch. I spent a long time like this. Mark sat close and would lightly and perfectly stroke my back. Continued to use Hypnobabies—finger-drop, peace and release, with most waves.

Mark fixed me chlorophyll to drink and I barfed it up immediately and horribly. Called Mom to come back and 9:00 or so, at which point I finally had a little blood in my underwear. Kept up my ball by the couch routine and moved into humming with each wave. Also did some contractions on the floor leaning over the ball. Also good.

On the ball, I began to feel some rectal pressure with each wave. However, I felt like the waves were erratic still, with some very long and intense and then smaller ones. Hums began to become oooohs and aaaaahs and I began to feel like there was a bit of an umph at the end of the oooooh. Went back to the bathroom and there was quite a bit more blood (plus mucous string) and I started to fret about placental abruptions and so forth. Left the bathroom analyzing how much blood is too much blood and began to critique myself for being too “in my head” and analytical and not letting my “monkey do it.” Said I still didn’t feel like I was in “birth brain” and wondered if that meant I still had a long time to go. Started to feel concerned that I was still early on. This is a common feature of all of my births and is how the self-doubt signpost manifests for me. Rather than thinking I can’t do it, I start thinking I’m two centimeters dilated.

I almost immediately returned to the bathroom feeling like I needed to poop. Serious contractions on toilet produced more pressure with associated umphs at the end. At some point in the bathroom, I said, “I think this is pushing.” I was feeling desperate for my water to break. It felt like it was in the way and holding things up. I reached my hand down and thought I felt squooshy sac-ish feeling, but Mom and Mark looked and could not see anything. And, it still didn’t break. Mom mentioned that I should probably go to my birth nest in order to avoid having the baby on the toilet. My birth nest was a futon stack near the bathroom door. I got down on hands and knees after feeling like I might not make it all the way to the futons. Felt like I wanted to kneel on hard floor before reaching the nest.

Suddenly became obsessed with checking her heartbeat. I knew you’re supposed to do so during pushing and I had stopped feeling her moving painfully with each contraction. I couldn’t find her heartbeat and started to feel a little panicky about that as well as really uncomfortable and then threw the Doppler to the side saying, “forget it!” because big pushing was coming. I was down on hands and knees and then moved partially up on one hand in order to put my other hand down to feel what was happening. Could feel squishiness and water finally broke (not much, just a small trickle before her head). I could feel her head with my fingers and began to feel familiar sensation of front-burning. I said, “stretchy, stretchy, stretchy, stretchy,” the phone rang, her head pushed and pushed itself down as I continued to support myself with my hand and I moved up onto my knees, with them spread apart so I was almost sitting on my heels and her whole body and a whole bunch of fluid blooshed out into my hands. She was pink and warm and slippery and crying instantly—quite a lot of crying, actually. I said, “you’re alive, you’re alive! I did it! There’s nothing wrong with me!” and I kissed her and cried and laughed and was amazed. I felt an intense feeling of relief. Of survival. I didn’t realize until some moments later than both Mark and Mom missed the actual moment of her birth. Mark because he was coming around from behind me to the front of me when I moved up to kneeling. My mom because she went to stop the phone from ringing. I had felt like the pushing went on for a “long” time, but Mark said that from hands and knees to kneeling with baby in my hands was about 12 seconds. I don’t know. Inner experience is different than outer observation. What I do know is that the moment of catching my own daughter in my hands and bringing her warm, fresh body up into my arms was the most powerful and potent moment of my life.

I was covered in blood again. Caked in my fingernails and toenails and on the bottoms of my feet again. And, I did tear again, same places.

I feel the moment of her birth was an authentic “fetal ejection reflex” including the forward movement of my hips. The immediate postpartum went exactly as I had planned. Summer arrived approximately 20 minutes after Alaina was born. She brought me snacks, wiped blood off of me, and served me a tiny bit of placenta (which I swallowed with no problem!). My midwife arrived approximately 40 minutes post-birth and assessed blood loss and helped with placenta. She said I lost about 3 cups of blood, but I think all of the fluid that came out with the baby, plus the blood from the tears, may have bumped the estimate up too high. I did not feel weak or tired like I’d lost too much blood, I felt energetic and really good, actually. I didn’t get faint in the bathroom either and my color stayed good throughout. “Don’t look down” (while using the bathroom) is an excellent plan for me!

My post-birth feelings were different this time. I feel more baby-centered in my feelings about it rather than self-empowerment centered. I also feel more critical in my own self assessment this time—like I didn’t “perform” well or handle myself well. I hypothesize that this may be related to using a hypnosis for birth program, because I didn’t feel “calm and comfortable” on the inside. On the outside I think I looked it, but my internal experience involved more “should” than I like. The hypnosis philosophy wasn’t really a match with my own lived experience of birth. Birth isn’t calm, quiet, and comfortable and I don’t actually think it should be or that I want it to be. However, I was trying to make it so and thus not using some of my own internal resources. I felt more mind/body disconnect than I have before also, perhaps because I was trying to use a mind (“control”) based method on such an embodied process. Anyway, it was good for relaxing during pregnancy, personally not so good for behaving instinctually in labor. I did use it though and technically I guess it “worked” because Mom and Mark couldn’t read where I was in birthing and though I was very calm. It didn’t feel calm inside though, it felt HARD. I also was very stuck—almost in a competitive-feeling way—on thinking it was going to be fast and feeling stressed/concerned that it wasn’t.

I also want to include this segment from my journal, written when she was three days old:

She is so wonderful and amazing and beautiful and perfect and I just want to etch these days into my mind forever and never forget a single, precious, beautiful, irreplaceable moment. I want to write everything down to try to preserve each second of these first few days with baby Alaina—my treasure, my BABY! The one I hoped for and feared for and worked SO HARD to bring to this world (in pregnancy more so than in birth). I can’t really though—I am here, now. Living this, feeling this, knowing this. The newborn haze is my reality in these moments, but it will pass away and the best thing to do is to fully live it. To feel it and to be here—without struggling to preserve it all. It is here in my heart and soul and preserved in the eddies and ripples of time. The unfolding, continuous ribbon of life and experiences. I have a weird, petrified feeling of forgetting—i.e. when I’m 89 will I still remember how this FELT?!

What do I want to remember?

Alaina newborn photo (c) Sincerely Yours Photography

The scrunchy feel of a newborn’s body.
The little mewing squeaks and sighs
How she is comforted by my voice and turns to me with a smacky, nursie face…
The soft, soft skin
The soft, soft hair
The fuzzy ears and arms
The little legs that pull up into reflexive, fetal position.
The utter, utter, MARVEL that I grew her and that she’s here. That she came from me. That sense of magic and wonder and disbelief when I look over and see her lying next to me—how did YOU get here?!
The miraculous transition from belly to baby. From pregnant woman to motherbaby unit? How does it happen? It is indescribably awesome.

The sleeping profile
The scrunchy face
The “wheeling” half coordinated movements of arms and legs—sort of “swimming” in air.
The peace of snuggling her against my chest and neck.
The tiny, skinny feet.
Putting my hand on her back and feeling her breathe, just like in utero

I was still scared she was going to die until the moment I held her.

Molly & Alaina newborn photo (c) Sincerely Yours Photography

Birth Altar Wisdom

May25

I am preparing to paint a birth altar cabinet for a friend’s upcoming blessingway ceremony. I have felt the urge for some time to share a post about the words that I included on the birth altar that I created for myself before my last birth. Some elements included were from pages of a cheapy page-a-day calendar from the $1 Shop and some were parts of a t-shirt tag from the tag on a shirt I purchased from WYSH at an LLL conference in 2009 (why keep a t-shirt tag from 2009, you might ask? Because it had lots of cool things written on it! And, behold, it became a source of birth altar wisdom for me. Wisdom lurks in unexpected places!)

I am struck by how these words from unconventional locations apply so perfectly to giving birth. Here’s what the little cards and snippets I included say:

From the calendar:

Inhale * Exhale * Relax * Repeat

LOVE the process.

Embrace peace within.

Keep it simple.

Right here

ENJOY

Right now

From the t-shirt tag:

Befriend fear, embrace struggle, trust nature, the process, and a baby’s wisdom (I swear, this shirt had NOTHING to do with giving birth!)

We don’t tell our flowers how to grow, to stay low or bloom before they’re ready.

Undivide your attention. All clear.

Lead with your spirit, rise above the noise, show the world your true self.

Also from the tag were individual words that I included: freedom. trust. inspiration. respect. authenticity. empowerment.

And, then I cut the following from a tag on a pendant from my husband:

May the Love we’re

sharing spread its Wings

and fly across the Earth

and bring new Joy to

every Soul on the Planet.

Help Choices in Childbirth Win a Grant!

May23

I’ve posted several times before about one of my top favorite handouts for birth classes and birth education booths—Choices in Childbirth’s booklet, Guide to a Healthy Birth. Now, Choices in Childbirth is trying to win a $5000 grant through FAM (the Foundation for the Advancement of Midwifery) and would really appreciate your vote. Here is the information:

Help Choices in Childbirth win $5k! Vote Today! Tell your friends!

Vote for CIC to win the $5,000 Floradix Fan Favorite Award from FAM, and you can help to expand our educational programs that have a direct, and positive impact on women’s pregnancy and birth experiences.

In her words…

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your work and the ongoing work of Choices in Childbirth. Your Guide has singularly been the best and most comprehensive resource I have been given to date. Two months ago I decided to switch my care over to “Mother-Friendly” facilities and practitioners. Finding alternatives to traditional practices proved to be one of the most difficult and stressful projects in my pregnancy. I was give your Guide last week and within 2 days I had set up meetings with a pre-natal chiropractor, birth center, pediatrician, and midwife!

– Joey Anna Young

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The Details:

As one of the finalists for a grant proposal we submitted to FAM (the Foundation for the Advancement of Midwifery), CIC is eligible to compete for an additional $5,000 Fan Favorite Award furnished by Floradix. Your vote will help us to win crucial dollars that support our educational resources for women: the online Mother-Friendly Provider Network and the printed Guide to a Healthy Birth!

Here’s how you can help:

1. VOTE for us! Use this link (www.choicesinchildbirth.org/vote) to complete the survey and choose CHOICES IN CHILDBIRTH when you get to the selection page! (you have to click through a few pages first with a few words from the generous sponsors of this award, but hang in there – we appreciate your vote!)

2. SHARE your status! Copy this text, and set it as your status on Facebook, G-chat and Instant Messenger:

Please vote for an organization I support, Choices in Childbirth, to help them win a $5k award to fund their work to educate and support women in their maternity care options: www.choicesinchildbirth.org/vote

3. FORWARD this email!

4. TELL US YOUR STORY! We would love to hear your story of what CIC means to you.

Please tell us more! We’d love to be able to show what our work means to our supporters.

Email info@choicesinchildbirth.org with your story!

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Our Proposal

CIC is eligible for this fan favorite award because the project we submitted to the Foundation for the Advancement of Midwifery has made it to the final round of the 2011 grant cycle! Below is a synopsis of our proposal:

Choices in Childbirth’s education and outreach programs are creating a national movement to change the way women and families think about birth. We are not satisfied with speaking to the choir – we want everyone to know their rights and options in birth! CIC has created two educational programs, the Guide to a Healthy Birth and the online Mother-Friendly Provider Network, that will significantly impact maternity care in this country by bringing the conversation about birth into mainstream dialogue in an accessible, evidence based way. The Sponsor a Midwife campaign is a creative marketing and outreach plan that will showcase midwifery within these programs by providing 100 free memberships to Mother-Friendly midwives in the Provider Network and distributing at least 5,000 copies of the Guide in each of 5 pilot cities. Together, these educational programs and the outreach campaign will provide more families with information about their options in maternity care, promote access to midwifery care, provide valuable advertising opportunities for midwives, and help us to create a sustainable model for providing these resources in additional communities across the country.

Happy Birthday to Me!

May23

When I get money as a birthday gift, I usually just put it in with the household money and it gets spent on groceries or miscellaneous cash expenditures. This year, I decided to get myself a present! I saw these unassisted birth pendants by Meghan Rice on Laura Shanley’s site before I gave birth in January and loved them, but talked myself out of buying one for various reasons (too expensive, what if something happens to the baby, etc.). Since I did end up birthing my daughter on my own AND in a kneeling position exactly like the pendant and since she was born in January (birthstone is garnet), I decided to go ahead and splurge on one of the pendants with a garnet belly 🙂 She arrived just before Alaina’s four monthabirthday on May 19th (also my mom’s birthday!) and it felt like just the right occasion. I really love this pendant!

I have to say that I have the greatest collection of pendants in the world. Too bad I only have one neck, because I would like to wear many of them all of the time! 😉

We also hung up my belly cast. I like how it looks on the red wall!