It's World Doula Week

As it is the beginning of World Doula Week, I feel compelled to share publicly a story that I have shared probably hundreds of times with friends, clients and people in childbirth classes, but likely never with the person who is the center of the story.

Sixteen years ago I was a first time pregnant mother.  I was also fairly naive about pregnancy/birth/parenting.  I was determined I was going to birth in the biggest and "best" hospital around (based on what the radio ads told me) and chose a big hospital in Seattle.  Being that I lived about 1/2 hour south of Seattle, I drove quite a distance for all my appointments as well as my 6-week childbirth ed course, and sat in a lot of traffic (it was rarely a 1/2 hour trip).  I went into that class thinking that I was fine with planning a cesarean.  My mom had two cesareans, I didn't see why I shouldn't just go that way myself.  Looking back, that message came from a place of fear inside of me.  I truly don't care how anyone chooses to give birth.  I strongly believe in every woman's right to choose how to birth her own baby.  However, for me, a cesarean was not the way I truly wanted to do it.  I was scared and it was easier to joke about bring my own sterilized knife than talk about labor and birth.  I had a friend who was also pregnant who had a midwife and doula and I didn't understand it all.  I couldn't see past my fear.

I was the girl in my childbirth class who sat in the back of the room and asked a million questions and who covered my eyes during birth videos as though I was watching a horror movie.  But I had a fabulous childbirth educator who made me feel comfortable with a topic that was terrifying me (even though I still wasn't admitting it).  By class three of my childbirth class, I had tapped into what I really wanted and realized I wanted to labor.  I wanted to try this whole childbirth thing without an epidural and I knew I was going to need help.  I hired my childbirth educator as my doula.  And here's what I can tell you...I chose my OB well...she gave me 34 1/2 hours to birth my baby.  But I would not have survived that experience the way I did without my doula.  She lived in North Seattle and spent a day on the phone with me while I was having prodromal back labor.  She met me at the hospital at 9pm on a Sunday only to find out I was 1cm and then she CAME HOME WITH ME in my car, all the way far south of Seatle and spent the night on my couch.  When my water broke, I ran to her first before even waking my husband.  What I didn't know was that she was early into her own pregnancy and dealing with morning sickness.  She never let on.  

She was my ROCK.  She forced me (kindly :) ) to move when I didn't want to.  She believed in me and supported me and never let me give up on myself.  Had she not been there I know I would have gotten an epidural very early in labor and likely had a cesarean because my face-up baby would not have turned without all the movement we did.  Ultimately, I did get an epidural after being stuck at 8cms for quite some time and that relaxed my very tense pelvis and allowed my baby to flip and quickly come out after that.  But had I not done all the work for hours and hours and hours prior to that, it might have been a different story.  My doula assured me I had made the right decision and helped me see the beauty in a therapeutic epidural.  Had my pelvis never relaxed, I'm not sure that baby would have ever been able to turn at the end.

I say all the time that, although I didn't like the hospital at all (who knew that radio ads weren't always true... ;) ), had I not chosen that hospital, I would not have had the awesome OB that I had and would never have met my childbirth educator and doula who changed my life.  When she came to my postpartum visit, I looked at her and said, "Do you think I could do what you do?"  She smiled and said, "Kelli, you scream Doula".  She saw in me what I couldn't see myself.  She empowered me.  She helped me enter motherhood with a strong belief in myself.  I became a doula because of her.  Every long birth I attended I felt was a small way of paying back all she gave to me.  I always wanted to be as good of a doula to my clients as she was to me.  At one point in our early conversations about how I wanted to birth my baby, she said to me, "Why are you having a baby in the hospital?" and I incredulously said, "Where else would I have a baby?" and she replied by telling me I was just a classic homebirth mom and I laughed hysterically.  Only to go on to have my second son in a birth pool in my living room (which wouldn't have happened without that first vaginal birth).  She SAW me.  She saw past my insecurities.  

Additionally, she gave me an incredible gift of three photos of my son just as he was being born.  I had been adamant with everyone that there would be no photos or video of labor or birth.  But she took a chance and took a few pictures because she couldn't help herself.  At our postpartum visit, she said to me, "Soooo...I did something...I took a few pictures...I'll destroy them and the negatives (who remembers negatives?  ;) ) if you don't want them."  I took those pictures and cried as I looked at them.  She captured the moment my son was born.  I held those pictures to my heart and thanked her profusely.  That is a gift I could never thank her for enough.  Again...she just "knew" what I needed.  I now always discuss with people that you should take pictures at birth.  With digital cameras, you can just hit delete on anything you don't want..but you might be surprised at what you DO want.

She also wrote me a timeline of my birth.  I cherished that!  I didn't remember half of what she wrote.  She filled in the blanks of my story.  That document still sits in my oldest's baby book and one day, hopefully, he will read it (maybe when he is expecting his own first baby) and understand its importance.  Right now, as a teenager, he wants to hear NOTHING about his own birth or ever have a discussion about the body parts he passed through.  ;).  That timeline inspired every birth story I ever wrote for each of my clients from that day forward.

So, for all of you who were once a birth doula client of mine, please know that anything you may have appreciated about me was learned from my own doula. And it is my hope that the work I did with every client somehow had an impact on a family the way my doula had on mine. Even in just some small way, I always wanted my clients to feel protected and cared for during a vulnerable time in their life.  It was an honor to serve as many families as I did over the years.  It was such a joy to share in 1st babies and then 2nd and 3rd babies with families.  It is the absolute hardest thing in the world now to tell families I can't be their doula when I'm asked in childbirth classes or from previous clients who I have had to turn away.  But I also know that the world works exactly as it is supposed to and there is another wonderful doula out there who will support each of those families.  Nonetheless, there is a little part of my heart that breaks every time I say no to someone.

I miss those connections with families.  I miss the tears of joy as a new mother holds her baby.  I miss watching men become fathers and women become mothers.  I actually even miss those long, sleepless nights while sharing such an amazing experience with a family.  But that time in my life has passed (for the most part).  I am grateful to still get the opportunity to work with expecting parents in childbirth classes.  That remains my connection to the birth world and I love it.  But, I have an aging father who I am on-call for now.  I have a new career for which I am passionate about.  I am still in a helping profession, just in a different way.  However, I will always be a doula in my heart.  I will always support the profession and I will FOREVER be so very grateful for the doula that came into my life sixteen years ago who helped me find myself in a very big way and who helped me birth my precious first baby into the world and who gave of herself selflessly.  SHE will forever hold a place in my heart and I truly believe that who I am today is in great part due to all she helped me see all those years ago as I became a mother for the first time.

The doula profession is finally beginning to come into its own.  I no longer have to explain the world doula to most people (although when I did spell-check on this, the only word highlighted was "doula" over and over).  ;) It is an incredible, exhausting (emotionally and physically), rewarding job.  If you know a doula, thank her sometime this week.  Today, and nearly every time I look at my first-born, I thank mine!  

Happy World Doula week to all the wonderful Doulas I know!  :)

What a Difference a Week Makes

This was the tree from a week ago:

Today was the first day I've had the opportunity to sit out on the front porch with my lemon water after a busy week.  But I've been watching the tree all week and this is what it looks like today:

Getting close to full bloom.  This idea of daily watching this tree has had quite an effect on me.  When you truly immerse yourself in nature, it can make you see the bigger picture in life.  This week started with a chunk of a tooth falling out and getting rear-ended on my way to work.  I was discombobulated and frustrated (both brain emotions, not heart emotions) and was kind of stuck in a funk.  Then last night I saw my therapist and talked it all through with someone who gets it, instead of rolling it all around in my head.  And Ta-Da! I left with an entirely new perspective.  The beauty of this week is that I handled both those things very differently than I would have in the past.  They weren't drama provoking...they just "were".  So many people have many, many more difficult things on their plate right now than my little bumps in the road.  And as I've repeated over and over...life really is about perspective.

There are other big things percolating in my life this week as well.  And my husband and I are both learning lessons in patience this week.  And vulnerability.  And believing in ourselves.  And in the fact that he and I are a team.  In the ups and the downs, we are a team.  And that has been a wonderful reminder this week.  And one of the good things that came out of my accident.  Strangely enough, Olly was coming home in the opposite direction when I was hit.  He had a surreal moment of realizing that the accident across the street was his wife.  He called me and asked me if I wanted him to come back to which I said I did (he told me he probably would have come back even if I had said no ;) ).  And seared into my brain is the picture of him coming back up the road, on the shoulder, at a pretty decent clip to get to me.  And I realized how safe I feel with him.  How he is always there for me, no questions asked.  And it hit me (no pun intended) that I spent a large portion of my life never really feeling "protected" per se.  So much so that I built up a very large defense mechanism that kept me from wanting anyone in my life to protect me.  I was good on my own.  I didn't need ANYONE.  But over the years, Olly has shown me what it feels like to be loved so much that another person simply wants to do things for me.  We've been together for 8 1/2 years now and it took a LONG time for me accept that kind of love.  But as he drove up on Tuesday, I realized that somewhere along the line, I completely let my walls down with him.  He loves me.  He protects me.  I trust him completely.  He always wants what is best for me.  I don't always have to be strong because when I can't be, he'll be there to support me.  And vice versa.  We're a team.  And I am so very blessed to have him in my life.  And in allowing him in, it's allowed me to open up my heart to so many other people in my life.  Vulnerability does not come naturally to me, but I have come to a place in my life where I actually kind of like it.  The world looks much more beautiful when you have no walls built up around you. 

So, here it is on Friday...after a rough start to the week.  The tree is blooming.  So am I.  A few years ago, a week like this would have rocked me.  But today, I can say that it was a good week overall.  There's a lot of activity coming up in the next six weeks.  A little missing part of my tooth or a fender-bender isn't going to stop me from enjoying all the good the world has to offer me. :)

SPRING!

It's been a busy week and today was the first day I was able to sit on my front porch with my lemon water.  And this is what welcomed me as I walked out the door.  :)

Do you see it?  It's the first flower on the tree.  I knew it was coming.  There are several more that will be coming behind this one.  Since we've lived in this house, this first flower of the year is always a welcome sign that spring is coming.  We've had a week of drenching rain, but that is March in Washington.  It's just another sign that spring is coming.  Daylight Saving Time starts this weekend.  That is my Christmas Day.  :)  Longer days, more light.  I am ready.

It's time for new beginnings.  I feel them brewing in my life.  I feel them percolating all around me in my family and my friends too.  Big stuff is coming.

I have realized this year that Spring and Fall are my two favorite seasons.  They are times of transition.  As summer wanes, I feel things slowing down in my life.  Fall allows me time to slow down and prepare for the hibernation of sorts that occurs over the winter.  By the end of summer, I am ready for fall.  I am ready for shorter days and longer nights and more time to cocoon inside (I am an introvert after all).  And around here, fall brings the excitement of football and weekly anticipation of the next game.  :)

Then winter arrives and with it comes regeneration.  A readiness for change and new growth is developed in the quiet of winter.  And it prepares me for spring.

And here we are.  Awakening from the slumber of winter.  Last night I was driving home from work and as I flipped through channels on the radio, I caught a Mariners spring training game and it was as though I was immediately transported back to my childhood.  I couldn't change the channel.  Baseball is the soundtrack of my childhood.  My mom was a huge baseball fan and we lived in a late 70s era home with an in-house intercom system.  Mom would turn on the game and it would play throughout the house.  The sounds of the announcers and the fans and the crack of a bat hitting a ball...they just bring me back to a place of comfort.  Of a simpler time in life.    

I'm ready for the longer days and baseball and new beginnings.  I.am.ready.

Today is exactly two months since I started my daily lemon water.  I haven't missed a day.  I can't really tell you specifically what it has done for me, except to say it gives me time to slow down every morning.  I don't rush out the door.  It gives me time for a morning reflection.  It gives me time to focus on me and the day ahead.  And it reminds me to care for myself.  I have been working on health this year.  It's been two months.  I've lost 8 pounds.  I would have like to have been double that, but 8 pounds is about a pound a week and that's actually pretty healthy.  This is the way I need to lose the weight if I want to keep it off.  Even more importantly is that I feel healthier and stronger.  I feel muscle on my body that has been missing.  I have lost 16(!) inches across my body.  THAT is a huge change.

I am transforming...both externally and internally.  I will be 45 in 8 weeks.  I wanted to feel good on my birthday this year.  I believe I will as I'm already feeling pretty good these days.  Something about 45 is striking me as a big year.  I'm not sure how I got to 45 but the calendar doesn't lie.  And I'm okay with it.  I've enjoyed my 40s.  I would say it's been my best decade so far.  :)  45 definitely feels as though it's bringing something big.  And I will be done with school before fall makes its way around again.  5 years of school.  Down to just a few months now.  It's exciting and scary at the same time.  45 will bring a Masters degree.  And new opportunities.  And a 16 year old into my home (ack!).  

But I'm ready.  Let's do this.  Bring on spring.  Bring on 45.  Bring on new beginnings.  Doors will close.  Doors will open.  There will be challenges.  But I've survived all the challenges thrown at me in the past.  I'm stronger because each of them.  And there are always joys on the other side of every challenge. 

Here's to new beginnings!