Memos
From Mom
Gentle Death, Ecstatic Sorrow, Warm Hands, Soft Dark Night
Am
I?
The Evolution of a Compleat Mother
I Had A Good Excuse To Formula Feed
Set My Children Free
Fertility And The Mind Body Connection
Diving Into Ourselves
Written by Lori Reichar
As I was jogging with my dog one Friday evening, I came up with an incredible idea. I had been given a compliment at work regarding my communication skills, and I wondered how I could apply my work skills at home to make myself a better mom.
It's not that I think I'm a horrible mom. I play with my children, assist them with their homework, help in their classrooms, and try my best to put forth a good effort at parenting. However, I'm always looking for ways to improve.
I realized as I jogged that I had been nagging them a little too much lately. How could I get them to do their chores without nagging? Suddenly, an idea flashed across my mind. What about writing them memos? A memo is a quick, concise form of communication. I imagined no more lectures and no more nagging. This might even decrease the whining. I could just hand my children a memo asking each of them to straighten their room. Then I could smile, and walk away. By the time the prerequisite moaning started, I could be folding laundry in the laundry room, well out of earshot. Why hadn't I thought of this before? Perhaps it was because reading was a skill only recently acquired.
The farther I jogged, the more I analyzed the memo idea, and the more I thought it was a good one. It might even help them improve those new reading skills. In addition, if I could get them to write memos to me, it could help them with their writing skills too. For example, they could communicate their current list of foods they think are poisonous. I am always nonplussed when a food they loved a week ago causes them to choke to death today. "How could you possibly feed us this food," they often ask. What kind of a mother am I, I wonder when I hear some of their complaints? For my new approach to the memo system, I visualized a memo from my daughter as:
To: Mom
From: Your Daughter
Date: Right Now
Subject: Yucky Food
Even though pears were all I would eat when I was a baby, and even though last
Saturday I said, "Oh, yummy." as I was eating the pears you served
me for lunch, don't even think that I like pears right now. Currently, I think
they are very yucky and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from serving
me pears ever again.
That kind of information could be updated on a daily basis and could prevent a lot of frustration. With the idea for the first memo behind me, I started to get excited as I visualized some of the improvements that could be made in our house. This memo idea could change my life! Could clean rooms actually be a possibility? I thought of this one for that issue:
To: My daughter and my
son
From: Mom
Date: Ongoing
Subject: Straightened Rooms
Effective immediately, there will be no watching of TV until your beds are made
and your rooms are straightened. This applies to crooked rooms as well as aligned
rooms.
Cc: Dad
The crooked room referred to needed to be included because of the time we were going to visit a friend who had a vacation spot on a lake. A fun day of water skiing was ahead of us with only one obstruction. My son could find only one sandal. As my husband and I were hurriedly searching his room for the other one, my husband said, "You know, son, if you would straighten your room, your sandal wouldn't be lost." My son was kneeling in the middle of his floor, pouting so hard it appeared as though he could kneel on his lower lip. Glowering at his father he said, "I can't straighten my room because it is crooked."
The farther I ran, the more excited I became. I could write my children memos on everything including homework, behavior, schedules, and chores. As they grew older, I could produce memos regarding curfew and driving rules. The possibilities were endless. Some day to day irritations could be solved. The thought boggled my mind. Which one to solve first? One good possibility would be:
TO: My daughter and my
son
FROM: Mom
DATE: Long overdue
SUBJECT: Laundry
It has come to my
attention complaints are circulating regarding not having enough clean clothes
to wear. To solve this problem, I recommend the following procedures:
1. Remove dirty clothes from the very large pile of clothes that currently exists
in the middle of you room. Place those clothes in the hamper in you closet.
2. Remove the clean clothes in the above-mentioned pile. These can be folded
and placed in the piece of furniture in your room called a dresser.
3. Once per week, I will empty your hamper, wash your clothes, and place freshly
cleaned and folded clothes upon your bed. These are to be put into your dresser.
Then, when clean clothes are needed, you'll know where to look.
Cc: Dad
Maybe I could even encourage a little appreciation for myself with a memo.
TO: My daughter and my
son
FROM: Mom
DATE: From now until you leave home
SUBJECT: Hugs FYI, your mother is aware that hugging her in front of friends
is an excruciatingly embarrassing task. Unfortunately, a mother who receives
no hugs from her children experiences difficulties functioning that could seriously
decrease her productivity. This could result in problems for the entire family.
To prevent this from happening, please let your mother give you one hug in the
morning, one when she sees you after school, and one when she tucks you in to
bed each night. This can be done discretely, when no one is looking. This will
enable your mother to keep operating at an efficient level.
Cc: Dad
Suddenly, I had an overwhelming desire to get home from my jogging. I looked at my watch and realized I had been jogging too long. I might not get home in time to tuck my children in bed.
Sure enough, when I walked in the door I discovered my husband had put them to bed, and they were sound asleep. I walked into my daughter's room, pulled her covers up for her, and kissed the top of her head. She was cuddling a new stuffed puppy that was the current love of her life. On top of her dresser, pierced earrings and perfumed lotions were next to a little stuffed skunk and turtle that were other favorites for play. Sadly, I realized the day would come when earrings and lotions wouldn't have the beloved little critters next to them.
I walked into my son's room. His covers were in a state of disarray, and his feet and legs were sticking out beneath them. His pajamas were already too short I noticed. Didn't I just buy those? How did he grow so fast?
As I straightened my son's blankets and covered him, I felt that ironic pain in my heart. My job as a parent is to raise my offspring to be independent, but they were growing up much too quickly. I wanted to slow this down. Another memo came to mind.
TO: My children
FROM: Mom
DATE: I wish it would stay this date forever
SUBJECT: Growing up too fast
Effective immediately, I would like you to stop growing. You are growing up
too fast, and I cannot keep up with you. Today I sometimes have to ask for my
hugs, and not very long ago you would hug me ferociously when I dropped you
off in your classroom at preschool. You are not giving me enough time to get
my job as a mother done right.
Am I patient enough? Have I smiled at you enough? Have I encouraged you enough? Have I played with you enough? Please know that I treasure the moments we spend together, and I selfishly want more of them. Please give me more time with you before you are all grown up.
Please know that I am trying
my best to be a good mother, especially since I am lucky enough to have the
best children on the planet.
Cc: Dad
I walked into my room, looked out of the window at the stars twinkling in the sky, and closed my eyes. There was one last, very important memo that came to mind before the day's end.
TO: God
FROM: Me
DATE: A moment in time
SUBJECT: Appreciation
I don't thank you often enough for sharing the perfect little humans that are
sleeping in my house right now. I often feel so inadequate. Please help me do
a good job during the small window of time they live with me. Please let them
feel loved and secure. Please help me show them how to be happy, healthy adults.
As I turned away from the window, I remembered tomorrow would be Saturday. I smiled as I looked forward to spending the day with my children.
Gentle Death, Ecstatic Sorrow, Warm Hands, Soft Dark Night...©
written by Leilah McCracken
I'm sitting here at the computer- I have my six months pregnant belly and breasts exposed, and I am touching myself with gentle, loving strokes. I love my roundness; my smoothness; the warm and nurtured feeling I get when I touch my body with the delicacy that it deserves.
I love the feeling of my big, firm belly... when I touch it it seems to "wake up"- to strain against my touch- I feel my little one inside straining up a bit to touch me too... I can feel him (I think this one's a he) moving up inside me, rooting for my hands... every few words, I stop typing to touch- and yes he's there- a soft little part of him- feeling love's first touch... oh I love my little babies so much. The funny thing is- that no matter how many babies have lived in me (this is my tenth), the miraculous wonder of knowing there is *life* inside me is nothing short of fecund.
Looking down at my big round belly- feeling the little kicks and swims inside- knowing in my mind that I am indeed with child- all these things add up on a conscious level, but there is such wonder at knowing, really comprehending, that beneath the roundness of my skin and body there is really, truly a little tiny child inside me... feeling my love, feeding on my nourishment, sensing his surroundings, sensing my love...
My baby is conscious. In his own secret, primal, quiet dark way- he is conscious. He already knows things that I have no clue of... in his suspended state of fluid growth he is in touch with a state of being I knew once, long ago... I can feel in him an instinctive rooting for Mommy- but at the same time... an awareness of another world I can only fathom in my heightened state of consciousness. He is with me- yet he is in the everywhere at once. It just occurred to me- this is the first time such a thing has occurred to me- since he is indeed in the everywhere, yet rooted down deep in my body and soul- perhaps he can somehow be in quiet contact with my little ones I lost? My two miscarried babies- their lives were as real as this one, then they left me.... perhaps they and this little one "speak" somehow- perhaps they are together in the vast, dark world of spirits that is always all around us, and within us- but that we, conscious adults, are cold and hardened against by our daily compulsions and rituals.
I don't imagine the babies "talking," as such... perhaps they share a form of spirit consciousness that is deeply rich and multi-dimensionally significant. Sharing nuances of awareness, communicating in some way about the home they have all chosen in my body, in my family...
My miscarriages hurt me so badly... they were the most painful things I have ever gone through. But from their intense pain I've accrued so much-compassion for others whose babies have died, knowing how much a hug or a gift can help- but what is the most poignant for me in what I've learned is the contact I now have with the vastness that exists after death... it is a vastness I have touched in my grief, and always to some degree feel deep inside me. Having been a vessel for death, I am aware of it... having felt death pass between my legs- having seen it as red and black clots- having held its tiny form in my shaking hand I know death... just as it has known me. And I am all the richer for it.
So I wonder if my tiny one talks somehow with his siblings who are not with me in body? I can dream about this as I move my hands slowly around my ripe, heavy abdomen- I can dream about pulling my new one up out of me at his birth, too... this is a sweet dream I only permit myself sometimes to get lost in. I will permit myself now...little one comes down, I pull him up. He is covered in soft vernix, and his wet hair looks dark beneath it. His eyes squint up at me- his pink little rosebud mouth open for me...I hug him to my neck and breathe his deeply rich babysmells into my throat and chest. I am in ecstasy...
I feel him squirming between my breasts, my husband throws a blanket over us. I feel my uterus rolling a bit- getting ready to push my placenta out. I hold him by his back against my body... I reach down between my legs and feel his cord- feel it coming out of me - I trace its length to his tummy and I marvel that once, so recently, all of this beauty was still curled up deep within me. I kiss his sweet mouth... I whisper his name... I weep and I cry in my joy and my bliss - I am new mother, I am reborn as woman - my child has come out of me and into my most loving, tender arms...
My husband calls Gloria, my midwife, who comes to make me my postpartum tea and help with anything I need her ultimate beauty in the form of a baby squirming and mewing on my chest. They record in their minds and hearts just what birth is- and in my bliss I feel the deepest sorrow for what they- my babies- have lost.
Oh my poor babies- taken from me by drugs and steel....I am so, so sorry for not knowing how to give birth to you then, when I was still so young and dumb. I am so, so sorry for all we have lost... my babies whose first feelings were not of my skin but of gloved hands on their bodies, of crash carts, of needles, they never knew the feelings of my body - they knew of their cords being amputated, they knew of bright lights and masked faces. They knew of my pain... they knew of my pain... they knew their births were wrong and that they weren't meant to suffer like that. But what can I do now... all I can do is cry. All I can do is wish to every heaven above me other women will learn from me, and for God's sake stay home and safe to give birth. It is the most important thing a woman can do- for her child, for her soul. Before I had my sixth child, my first homebirth, I didn't even know I had one... a soul. I knew no God, I knew no spirit sense... I was inert and cold, just as the hands that grabbed my babies out of me were. But then there was warmth... then there was darkness... then there were my secret, quiet winter homebirths that freed up my spirit for me- freed me up so I can fly with my lost little ones and know there is life after life... this is what my birth has done for me.
Maybe my babies whose births were lost to me... five of my babies... maybe in my bliss in my birth they can connect with me too. Maybe we can connect in a way that all those prying eyes took from us in our own births together... but my deepest, most sorrowful heart knows that this can't be so. They can understand what birth is with their minds- but having lost their only births... you can't grow it back. You only get one chance to be born.
My own birth?- I am surprisingly unemotive when I think about it. I know the stories my mother told me about it- but I can't really touch it with my heart. It is a cold place- in my mind I see the doctors and scissors that she talked about- I sense her loneliness, fear and insecurity surrounded by so many people... I sense my own fear and loneliness when I am whisked away from her to be "observed" for hours in the hospital nursery. My only newborn photo is not of me on her chest, being wept over after birth- it is of little me in a metal hospital bassinet, sleeping and alone, surrounded by cold medical gear and tubes. This is my own birth...
I can touch it when I compare it with what I have grown to understand birth to be... but my birth is distant for me- another part of me that I feel doesn't really matter. And this is how things are with my children... their births don't really matter to them. They're here, and that's what counts.
But it's not like that with my homeborne babies... Skye, my sixth, he has a little birth book that Gloria wrote up when he was being born. She kept a diary of sorts of all that went on in the birth- what was said and done by whom, it is a touching recount of a beautiful event. Well Skye, even before knowing what it was, would carry the book around- something about it made him love it. And when his father said it was his birth book- he carried it even closer to his heart. He now calls it his "birth book." And I can talk about his birth, and hold him under my chin as I did just after he was born... and know he understands on a deeply rich level just how beautiful his birth really was.
As I can with my seventh... we share an understanding that I cannot put into words here. I wonder what sort of difference it will make in their lives to be that connected with their own comings into being? I wonder how much more secure and wise they will be in their lives because they are so secure in who they are as people of the earth, people who have been given birth to?
Anyway. My belly and my breasts are soft and evocative- I love my roundness, my fullness- my luscious-with-life form. I love how sensitive my skin is-how my whole body awakens to touch- how my baby's body awakens to my touch. I can hug my belly and know I am hugging my sweet child...
Leilah McCracken is the creator of the BirthLove website and author of Resexualizing Childbirth. For more about her book and extensive information about homebirth, women's and children's health, the dangers of medicalized birth, and the Petition for the Rights of Childbearing Women, visit her website- http://www.birthlove.com
The Evolution Of A Compleat Mother©
written by Yvonne Cryns
Teen years: oblivious to pregnancy concerns, childbirth, and all other related issues. Mostly concerned with having a date for the big dance and wondering if that zit will be gone by then.
Newly married: Not thinking about having kids yet -- having fun with husband, getting used to sleeping in the same bed with someone who steals the blankets and hogs the bed. Some friends have friends who gave birth in a teepee in the desert. I think homebirth is for nuts. Are they crazy?
Surprise!! I'm pregnant!! Excited but have 24/7 morning sickness. Go to the clinic at the local hospital. At one visit, receive education about what will happen to me during labor. Nurse states, "...And then you'll get your IV, your episiotomy.." She made it sound like this was a gift. I'm out of there. I know this is not what I want to have happen to my body. My husband happened to run into someone who had a homebirth with a midwife. We're making a lot of phone calls to find out about this.
We're parents!! The birth went just fine. I always knew I could do it without drugs, stirrups, stitches, etc. Baby always with me, nursing whenever. I am told if I want my son circumcised, I will have to make a special appointment. My husband and I had never thought about circumcision. Grandmother's undress baby and notice he is not circumcised-they both comment on how neither Grandfather is! I can't imagine how anyone could allow a doctor to amputate their baby boy's penis.
6 months later... Grandparents want to know when I'm going to feed him real food and how long am I going to breastfeed anyway???
Baby 1 year old: He's eating at the table, some of what we eat. Nurses often, too. No playpen-I had read babies who spend time in playpens were at greater risk of spending time behind bars as adults. Baby 15 months old: #2 is on the way. Pregnancy going well, but terrible morning sickness again. We manage.
Baby #2 is welcomed by big brother who surrounds him with little people toys and tucks some under his T-shirt. Nursing both boys. Grandparent's look the other way and roll their eyes at each other. Lots of cloth diapers...fortunately I finally got a washing machine.
A few years later: Family and friends think we are nuts. Don't we know about over-population? Don't we know how expensive it is to raise a child? We know we love each other and love our children, and that seems right. And so it goes...for a few more years, a few more babies, till we have seven children. And somehow we have managed to do this without a large salary, huge medical bills or a single can of formula!
I Had A Good Excuse To Formula Feed©
written by Catherine McDiarmid
My baby was born early, and I didn't get to hold or feed him for 6 hours...
I had one flat and one inverted nipple, which I didn't know about in advance, and no-one offered me nipple shields...
My baby was kept in isolation in the hospital nursery for observation for a hospital-induced infection, so I had to go there to him to feed him...
The nurses didn't allow me to nurse my baby at night, nor did anyone tell me how to express my milk...
My baby had severe jaundice, and had to be under the bilirubin lights all the time...
Because of the jaundice, my baby was very sleepy, and had to be kept awake the whole time he was nursing. I undressed him, changed his diaper, flicked his feet, switched sides every few minutes - all in an effort to keep him awake and sucking...
Even so, my baby took so little milk that he lost weight, going down from 5 lbs. 10 oz. at birth to 4 lbs. 14 oz...
My baby took an hour to 1.5 hours to feed each time, and had to be fed every 3 hours - from the start of the last feeding...
Due to his premature birth, severe jaundice, weight loss, and hospital- induced infection, my baby ended up staying in hospital for 11 days...
My milk didn't come in till the 12-13th day....
Even once we were home, my baby still didn't wake for feedings. I had to set the alarm for every 3 hours - day and night, to remind myself to feed the baby so he wouldn't continue to lose weight...
My baby had a tiny rosebud mouth, which barely covered the end of my nipple, and so I couldn't get a proper latch till he was over 6w old...
My nipples ended up cracked and bleeding, and I cried through most of his feedings until his latch improved at about 6 weeks...
My husband was unsupportive, and wouldn't even hold the baby so I could go to the bathroom...
My baby had colic, and it was so hard to cope with his constant crying and take care of a busy 2.5y old too...
My 2.5y was ADHD and had a minimum of 10 temper tantrums a day. Every moment I sat down to nurse the baby was an opportunity for my 2.5y old to get into trouble and destroy my home...
My baby was reacting severely to foods in my diet, and to continue nursing I would have to live on a very austere diet...
As my baby grew, he needed to nurse every hour, except in the evenings when he marathon-nursed! Even during the day he would often nurse for an hour or more at a time. I had to go around with the cups of my bra down, because of constant sore nipples...
My rheumatoid arthritis flared up after my baby was born, and those hour-long nursings often left me in pain and tears. It took me months to figure out positions for pain-free nursing...
I was very shy and embarrassed to nurse in public...
I had unresolved issues of childhood abuse...
My baby was hospitalized with bronchiolitis, and I wasn't allowed to stay with him at night. Their solution was to sedate him...
I got blood poisoning and needed bed-rest and meds...
I got a breast infection... My husband left us when the baby was just 9m old, and I was suddenly faced with being a single parent and needing to support my family...
Then my exclusively-breast-fed baby went on a week-long nursing strike...
But I guess I was uneducated, because I never realized these were reasons to quit...
So we continued to nurse...
(The baby in the article was Michael, now 24 years old)
Catherine
McDiarmid. owner of http://www.borntolove.com
Email : catherine@borntolove.com
WAHM to Jason-27y, Michael-24y & Joshua-13y Grandma to Christopher, 3 years
old in October!
written by Gretchen Humphries
The overwhelming and dominant power behind birth in this country, at this moment in history, is fear. Almost every decision made by a woman (and her partner) is, at its root, motivated by fear. The assumptions that are brought to birth, the assumptions that are made about birth, the very core of what most people believe about birth is intensely flavored by fear.
Why do we have all that prenatal testing done? Mostly, of course, because everyone else does. But why does everyone have it done? Because there might be something "wrong" with the baby, or "wrong" with us. It seems that the chances of something being "wrong" must be pretty high, for so many women to have early ultrasounds, alphafeto protein tests, glucose tolerance tests, mid-pregnancy ultrasounds, late pregnancy ultrasounds, serial vaginal exams as the pregnancy nears its end, Group B streptococcus cultures. After all, think of what horrible things could result if we didn't know an exact "due date". Think of what horrible things could happen if our baby is bigger than average and we didn't know it. Think of what horrible things could happen if our cervixes were or weren't dilating and effacing prior to labor. To refuse a prenatal test, even a test that only presents you with "facts", not options, is somehow risky. Odd. Scary. Certainly not the "norm".
Why do we pick surgical specialists to "attend" our births? Usually because we know no differently, that's just the way it is done. But why? Well, just in case. Just in case of what? Just in case something "bad" happens. We are afraid of "something bad". It seems that the chances of "something bad" must be pretty high, to justify the use of a surgical specialist, to make the choice of a surgical specialist the "no fault" decision in our society. Any other decision, be it a Family Practitioner, a Certified Nurse-Midwife or even a "Traditional" Midwife just seems, well, risky. Outside the "norm". Scary.
What do we think about as we approach our "due date", such as it is? Labor. Will it ever start? The convenience of others. Will my mother/husband/boss's schedule be ruined if I don't labor on time? Pain. What is it going to be like? Will my childbirth preparation class help? Will I "need" an epidural (or will I be able to get it as soon as I want)? Will I be "out of control"? Will my husband/mother/sister be worried/upset/able to "deal" with it? Will my doctor be on call or will I get one of the partners? Will it take long? Will I "need" an episiotomy or will I tear? Will I "need" a cesarean? Will my baby be all right? We go into our births scared to death of what might happen.
Why do our beloved surgical specialists do what they do to us? Fear. Fear of that "something bad" which for them includes a lawsuit. Fear that the birth might deviate out of their limited experience or willingness. We are induced out of a fear of birth on an unknown time frame or fear of a baby outside of "normal" limits. Our membranes are artificially ruptured out of a fear of a "long labor" or out of a fear of our baby being harmed by labor. We are given drugs to calm us and numb us out of fear of pain and fear that we'll "lose control". We are given drugs to stimulate our uteri out of a fear of long or ineffective labor contractions. We are given antibiotics in our veins out of a fear of infection. We are confined to bed, with electronic instruments attached to our babies, and us inside and out, because of fear that our labors will kill our children, out of fear that the drugs we are given will harm our children. Our bodies are cut, our vaginas and our bellies, out of a fear that our own bodies will kill our own children and that our children will damage our bodies.
The really sad part is that it's almost impossible to escape. Oh, you can escape the cycle of fear I've outlined above, I did it. You can understand and believe that the chance of "something bad" happening is actually quite small (if birth is left alone). I birthed my third child at home, with a wonderful Traditional Midwife. I had very little prenatal testing (although what I did have was done out of fear - fear left from the previous miscarriages I'd suffered). I wasn't afraid of the pain; I didn't want medication readily available. I wasn't afraid that my labor would kill my child or that my child would damage my body.
But I still made decisions based, in part, on fear. I birthed at home because hospitals scare me. I didn't want access to drugs because I'm afraid of what they might do to me and to my baby. I didn't want an "elective" repeat cesarean because I'm afraid of major abdominal surgery. I didn't have a "due date" because I was afraid of the stupid and insensitive things people say when you pass your due date. I didn't have prenatal testing that provides only "facts" and no options (other than abortion) because I was afraid of the Pandora's box that such testing opens. I did have to really work on reminding myself of the facts about birth, about vaginal birth after cesarean, about homebirth, so that the all-pervasive and invasive fears that surround those topics didn't creep in and make me fearful of birth itself.
Fear is dramatic and birth, in this time, is high drama. It rates well on television, which is why a dramatic birth is one of the "aces in the hole" for a television series that needs a ratings boost. The trust we do manage to have is usually placed in the most fearful people of all; those surgical specialists that we depend on to guide us through dangerous and frightening birth. But what if there was no fear associated with birth? What if hope, joy, trust were the dominant powers behind birth? What if everyone just knew that birth is safe, that birth can be trusted? That our bodies can be trusted? That our babies are working with us to be grown and born, not against us? That only very rarely does "something bad" happen and that there are people available to quickly and compassionately care for us in those rare moments when help is needed but that those people are better left in the background unless we do need them? What if "just in case" was something that you never said or heard with regard to pregnancy and birth? I almost can't even imagine it - to make choices in birth that aren't fear driven, neither the mass fear that most suffer with or the fear of what birth is today that drives some of us seems impossible to me. But what if? What would it be like, if there were no fear?
Women would conceive their children, and carry them with pride and joy. They would eagerly look forward to the day that labor started, knowing that they will be supported and strengthened by people that also look forward to birth with joy and expectation. They would labor - it would be very hard work for most, painful for some but no suffering - and transcendent joy at the end - a baby, a new life in this world. And these women would look back on their pregnancies and births with simple joy. Some would have an eagerness to conceive and birth again, others would be ready to move on in their lives but would cherish the memories of one of the most joyful times of their lives. They would mother their children with a confidence that comes out of passing through a rite of passage. They would tell stories of joy and pleasure to their sons and daughters about the days when they were born. It wouldn't be dramatic at all but think about what it would be - whole, healthy, human. Not boring, I don't think pregnancy and birth could ever be boring but how about normal? Simple? A Fact of Life.
Can you imagine it? I almost can, but my vision is fleeting many days. We need to imagine it. We need to dream it. We need to do whatever we can to make it real. Its too late for us but for our children, we need to dream this so that it can become real. We need to set our daughters and sons free of fear. We need to give them the gift of hope, joy, trust and love. A new kind of birth. It starts now.
Copyright © 1998~2001 BirthLove-Leilah McCracken. http://www.birthlove.com
Fertility And The Mind-Body Connection©
Teresa Robertson RN, CNM, MSN
Can Pre-Birth Communication affect our ability to conceive? In this article, Teresa Robertson presents intriguing evidence.
Emily and Nicholas, a vibrantly healthy couple in their late thirties, were unable to conceive despite all medical tests affirming their ability to do so. After two years of working with traditional infertility specialists, several insemination efforts, and three months of fertility drugs, Emily was still not pregnant. A friend gifted her with a preconception session.
During this session, Emily used a simple guided visualization exercise in which she explored and conversed with her ovaries, tubes and uterus. While communicating in this open-hearted manner with her body, Emily discovered and healed the block that had prevented her from having this little boy being who was hovering just above her shoulder.
Below, Emily shares her experience.
When I looked into my right tube I suddenly felt something dark stuffed there. Teresa asked me if I had ever experienced any sexual or reproductive trauma. I then shared with her that I had an abortion when I was nineteen. When I dialogued with this tube further I realized that this is where I had stored the trauma surrounding that abortion. My abortion experience had involved a great deal of heartache and pressure from my boyfriend at the time, who begged me to have the baby and marry him. I loved him deeply, but I was consumed with guilt resulting from a very religious upbringing that clearly defined premarital sex as both sinful and shameful. This, combined with the intense fear of my family's reaction and taking on the responsibility of marriage and a family, played heavily as I made the heart-breaking decision to abort - an act that also was prohibited by my church. Teresa helped me to make this connection that my body simply made a decision to protect me from any future trauma of this nature by never getting pregnant again! Once I identified this phenomenon, I was able to empty this darkness out of my tube by simply connecting the tube to the center of the earth and asking for it to release. I also employed a wonderful visualization using colors that are healing for me, to wash my uterus and to reline it with warmth and welcoming energy for this little being. Once this area was clear and clean I was able to easily connect with the little boy spirit who wanted to come to me and Nicholas. Upon going home, Nicholas and I constructed a "Baby Altar," in order to welcome this baby boy spirit to come into our lives.
A few days later, Emily conceived after making love with her husband, and nine months later joyfully gave birth to her son Adam.
Honoring the Body
Emily's story dramatically illustrates how connecting and communicating with your body and your unborn child can increase your fertility and your ability to conceive. Over the past four years, during preconception sessions with women and their partners, I have frequently witnessed miracles like Emily's. The extent of fertility intervention these women have employed has included herbs, acupuncture, intrauterine insemination, IVF and donor egg IVF. Time and time again I have witnessed that when a woman authentically connects to her body, and begins to listen and honor her body's inner truth and wisdom, she cultivates a feedback relationship with her body and her unborn child. As a result, a dramatic shift occurs in her belief in and ability to conceive.
The success of using meditation, visualization and journaling techniques to heal and cultivate fertility has been strongly documented by Alice Domar in Healing Mind, Healthy Woman and by Niravi Payne in The Language of Fertility. Fifty percent of women who have participated in Domar's groups, in which meditation, relaxation, and journaling techniques are employed, were able to conceive and give birth. In contrast, only 20% of women who solely used traditional "infertility treatments" were able to conceive. Niravi Payne's work focuses on illuminating and healing family secrets and beliefs surrounding fertility. Her program also reports increased pregnancy and birth rates for her clients.
We live in a time in which a commonly held belief is that our fertility is diminished and that we need outside help to conceive. This belief has become very evident for women in the "baby boomer generation" who have embraced and mastered the male aspect qualities of doing and making it happen - yet conceiving eludes them. Creating a baby is a receptive act that requires embracing and using our female aspect. For many women, there exists an inner conflict and imbalance between their inner female and male aspects. As many women have learned to accomplish success by relying strongly on utilizing their male aspect, many have forsaken, forgotten and invalidated their female side. This female side includes qualities and abilities such as to be vulnerable, open and to receive.
The all too common picture I witness, is the career woman who is creating, doing, and nurturing everyone else and has no time to receive or give to herself because to do so would be perceived as a weakness. Instead of interpreting their bodies' not conceiving as a message or cry for help, often these women further invalidate their bodies as being "non-productive" and "an infertile failure," and often force their bodies to create from an empty well. As Christianne Northrup, MD writes: "Many infertile women are working 60-80 hours a week and are exhausted; then they pursue having a child as though they were writing a PhD dissertation. Conceiving a child is a receptive act, not a marathon event that can be programmed into your Day Timer."
How often does a woman who is on the fertility merry-go-round hear someone tell her to just go home and relax? Yet rarely does someone actually sit with this woman and demonstrate to her how to do this. I have heard countless stories of women who gave up trying to get pregnant, who then got pregnant after going away with their husband to just have fun. In the past year, I have witnessed two women conceiving on their own, after "failing" IVF cycles! Both these women had stopped focusing on their in-ability to get pregnant and had rediscovered their creativity when they conceived. Sure, it is easy advice to say just let go of being in control or stop trying so hard. However, anyone who has wanted anything desperately knows that can be a near impossible feat. That is where meditation, relaxation, journaling and visualization techniques can be of vital assistance.
Meditating and relaxation exercise can serve as empowering processes which can assist you to reconnect to your core self as the creator of your baby. More importantly, they teach how to relinquish control. As mentioned before, conceiving a baby is a receptive creative act, so often the work and exercises I explore with my clients include exercises which connect a woman to her female creative power (as described in Emily's story) and cultivate skills to relinquish control.
Physiologically, meditation and/or relaxation exercises are known to decrease blood pressure, to lower heart rate, and to decrease the production of stress hormones. A study in Italy found that "an increased vulnerability to stress is associated with a poor outcome in in- vitro fertilization- embryo transfer treatment." Dr. Lorraine Bonner explains the connection between stress and decreased fertility. "The mind-body knows that in situations of extreme tension our sex organs are our most expendable parts. The mind-body knows that when times are tough, that is not the time to make a baby."
Meditation also stimulates the pineal gland. This gland produces several hormones, two of which are serotonin (necessary for libido and well-being) and melatonin (another hormone connected with feelings of relaxation and well-being), which in turn stimulate the pituitary gland. The pituitary is the gland which predominantly regulates female reproductive hormones such as FSH (follicle stimulating hormone which matures the eggs in the ovaries), estrogen, progesterone, and oxytocin in labor.
It is possible for meditation/visualization techniques to work with your body to enhance and/ or change the level of certain hormones. For two years my dentist extensively tracked the relationship between food, supplements, and saliva pH in order to learn which foods optimally affect the pH of the saliva. One day he realized that his patients could simply convert their saliva pH by thinking about eating, or thinking about the desired pH level!
Consulting with the Child
Susan and David integrated communicating and meditating with their unborn child, to infuse their individual sacred and loving essence as a couple into the procedure of an intrauterine insemination. During a session one week before their anticipated insemination, they connected with their unborn child and dialogued with her about her specific needs and desires for this insemination. They learned that she wanted candles, soft music, and communication with her before and during the insemination. Susan says, "I remember her asking for chocolate truffles because I was avoiding sugar and chocolate at the time."
During the break before the insemination, Susan and David went to a nearby park, cuddled and shared a luscious picnic lunch and connected with Amanda. David shares, "A year before Amanda was born I wrote lyrics to a song which I feel was channeled by our baby. During our picnic lunch and the insemination we read her lyrics. We continue to celebrate Amanda's conception day as a day to honor and to reaffirm Amanda as a spiritual being; this always includes reading her lyrics."
I urge you to not approach meditation/relaxation as another regime, project or task to get you pregnant. I would, however, invite you to covet this quiet time as a time to rejuvenate, refresh and to give to yourself regardless of what the outcome will be. Create for yourself opportunities to go inside to release the pressures and stresses of trying to get pregnant. Use this time to nourish yourself by authentically communicating with your body and to develop a relationship of working in cooperation with your body, instead of commanding and directing your body to perform and to produce. Love your body for where she is right now instead of invalidating yourself for failing to conceive. As you embrace this quiet space, don't be surprised to find yourself feeling more empowered, alive and fertile.
Teresa Robertson offers preconception sessions to assist clients to connect with an unborn child, to promote fertility, to heal pregnancy losses such as miscarriage and abortion, and to assist adoptive parents to connect with their unborn children. For more information about long distance sessions, lectures, or workshops please call (303)258-3904, P.O.Box 3111, Nederland, CO, 80466, or email to Teresa@BirthIntuitive.com or visit her at http://www.BirthIntuitive.com
by Laura Shanley
"Come on, Mom," I heard my daughter, Joy, say as I swam past her in the pool this summer, "swim UNDER the water." Joy is a fish and cannot conceive of anyone actually enjoying anything short of complete submersion. Once again, however, I gave my standard reply: "I don't want to get my hair wet." With that, Joy gave me one of her classic "parents are so stupid" looks and swam away.
Oh well, I thought, easier to deal with an angry child than with hair that takes hours to dry. I was proceeding to do my breast strokes when suddenly something caught my eye - PREGNANT WOMAN AT TEN O'CLOCK. This is a "weakness" of mine (ask my kids). If there is a woman within a one block radius of me who looks even remotely pregnant, I feel compelled to talk to her. Only once have I made the mistake of asking the question "Are you pregnant?!" to a non-pregnant woman. The look she gave me made any sort of verbal reply unnecessary.
But there was no mistaking the condition of this woman. She was ripe, ready to pop, about to pass the proverbial watermelon.
"When's your baby due?" I asked as she floated by on her Noodle (new-fangled plastic floatation device).
"In about two weeks," she said with a smile. No outright "get out of my face" look, I thought, on with the inquisition.
"Where are you having the baby?"
"Boulder Community Hospital."
"Doctor or midwife?"
"Doctor."
"Are you taking any classes?"
"Just the classes they give at the hospital."
"Have you read any childbirth books?"
"Just the pamphlets they pass out in the classes."
"So if you're taking a class, I guess that means you're going to be having natural childbirth."
"Well, they said not to be attached to any particular way of giving birth."
Now, I am not a homebirth snob, but part of me felt like hitting this woman over the head with her Noodle and screaming "WAKE UP WOMAN! Don't you have a mind of your own? This is one of the most important events in your life! Doesn't that merit doing a little bit of independent research?!"
Instead, however, I wished her well and swam away. I'm always eager to share my knowledge of birth with anyone who asks, but this woman wasn't asking, and these days, I'm not into proselytizing.
Suddenly I felt the "urge to submerge." To hell with my hair, I thought, I'm going under. Instantly I was surrounded by cool, blue water. I swam along the bottom of the pool and delighted in the sensation of water flowing through my long hair. I had forgotten how much I had enjoyed underwater swimming as a child, but now it was all coming back to me. I surfaced to find Joy watching me.
"Mom, you got your hair wet!" she cried. My simple act, she knew, would now enable me to go into her world for a while. For the rest of the afternoon we had underwater tea parties, swam through each other's legs, and just played. Going under water had made all the difference in the world.
That night I thought about the pregnant woman at the pool and realized why her answers had bothered me. Just as I had been staying on the surface of the water initially, she, I knew, would be staying on the surface of birth. She would not be getting her hair wet, so to speak. She would fight birth with every ounce of her being. And if that wasn't enough, the medical profession would be there to give her a "little" Demerol to stay "on top" of the contractions. This woman would not be submerging, and therefore, would not be finding her own power. Later she would talk about the "horrible pains" and the "blessed Demerol," never realizing that her resistance to the birth, and not the birth itself, had caused her so much pain.
About the Author: Laura Kaplan Shanley lives in Boulder, Colorado with her husband, four children and cat, Puddy. She is best known for her 1994 book, UNASSISTED CHILDBIRTH. Boulder school children have been enjoying Laura's stories and poems for many years, and her autobiographical poem LAURA RUTH HAS LOST A TOOTH appeared in the magazine CHILDREN'S PLAYMATE. You may reach Laura Kaplan Shanley at: bornfree@ecentral.com