When I started this blog, it was to share a little about Parkinson's and my experiences as a daughter of someone with the disease. It's turned in to a lot of different things along the way, but tonight, it's all about being that daughter. But even more so about being a grown woman who still feels like a little girl at times. About wanting someone to protect me, but my parents can't do that anymore. My mom is gone, and for all sense and purposes, my dad is slowly disappearing. It is a long, grueling, painful good-bye.
Today was a rough, rough day. I visited dad this morning and he was not himself. He seems to be more confused every time I see him, but today he was especially so. I don't feel comfortable getting into all the details in order to protect some of my dad's dignity, but I found myself in a situation that was incredibly uncomfortable for me and I had to call staff for help.
That's what we pay them for. I know that. But there is incredible guilt at times for me when I realize that I can't help my dad with everything. There are just some things I can't do. I could probably help anyone else with it...but not my dad. It is absolutely one of the most difficult things in life to watch a parent wither away. I watched it with my mom and it was so painful. But today I realized that cancer took my mom rather quickly...and for the most part, painlessly. But this hell that is Parkinson's...and this dementia or Alzheimer's or whatever the hell is happening to him in his brain...it's a whole new level of pain. Every day I feel like I lose another little part of my dad.
Tonight I received a call from the staff at my dad's assisted living community. Dad had become agitated and combative with his bath aide. That is not my dad. I don't think there is a person who ever met my dad who didn't enjoy him. Everyone loved my dad. Now, he is confused and angry and developing paranoia. I spent over 1/2 hour on the phone with him trying to figure out what in the world was going on with him. FINALLY, I had an A-Ha moment and was able to understand what had set him off. It was something simple. But simple things are huge to my dad. Anything that strays from the norm throws him. And I found a bit of grace with myself over the fact that it may take me a while, but I am the only person who could have figured out what happened with him tonight. I am grateful that I can be there in times like this.
Ultimately, I spent over an hour talking with him and the nursing staff to get some sort of reconciliation. And it hit me that this is just the beginning. These calls will continue to come more often. They will come in the middle of the night. Things will become harder to understand. Dad will become lost in his mind somewhere and I can't travel with him.
And I can't stop it.
I can't fix it.
I have no control.
I have to surrender.
But this is my dad. When I was 18, I had a license plate that said DDYSGRL. I was so proud of the man who was my dad. My mom and I struggled to understand one another, but my dad, he was always there. I know he didn't always understand me either, but he always listened. He tried to mediate between me and mom and I know that had to be incredibly hard for him. I always wanted to grow up to be as good of a person as my dad was. And I think I've succeeded in many ways.
But this...this is something I simply don't know how to do. It is the most incredibly painful thing to watch and to experience. Of course, I didn't know how to lose a mother to cancer either...and I did it. I will walk this path just like all the rest. I guess I'm just more aware that this path is becoming bumpier and narrow and more harrowing.
I have spent 2 1/2 years studying aging. I have spent countless hours researching Parkinson's and Alzheimer's. I understand the diseases. I can give you statistics and studies.
But none of that prepares the human heart to go through this.
But nothing could have prepared me for my mom's death. And her death opened up a new world for me. A world where I wanted to help others facing life-ending experiences of their own or with their loved ones. That would never have happened if I hadn't lost my mom. And now...I know this path I walk is one I must walk in order to help others. I know there are great and abundant lessons to be learned. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just sick and tired of lessons.
And so I sit awake...wondering what is running through my dad's mind right now. I sit awake and worry about my dad. Ahhh...how the tables have turned. I will go lie down soon and stare at the ceiling. I know worry does nothing...and yet, I still do it. Especially on nights after long days like this one.
However...writing all this helped...messaging tonight with a friend who understands, helped...laughing today with another friend who is sharing a new journey with me, helped...a hug from my 12 1/2 year old ("just cuz, mom"), helped...having my husband home from a quick trip to the east coast, helped...
Tomorrow is a new day. And I will walk it like all the rest. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. Doing the best I can and giving myself grace, that every day, whatever my best is that day, it is always good enough.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Turn, Turn, Turn
"The journey between who you once were,
And who you are now becoming,
Is where the dance of life really takes place".
~ Barbara DeAngelis
Sixteen years ago, I was a pregnant first time mom. I was SO excited for that baby. And so excited to start my new life as a stay-at-home mom. I was 29 years old. I'd held several jobs for the 13 years prior. Some were good, some weren't great. None felt truly fulfilling. I often longed for a job where I felt as though I was making a difference and not just a number on a payroll check. Motherhood was going to make a difference in this one baby's life. That I knew. And I was ready for it. What I was not ready for, and had to way of preparing for, was the change that baby was going to make in my life.
Giving birth to that baby changed everything for me. I became someone new. Through a long empowering labor, more sleepness nights than I could count, a devastating postpartum mood disorder, diaper changes, baby tears, mama tears, more questions than answers, throughout it all...somehow...I began to find myself. The birth of that baby began an entire new period of my life. Motherhood was life altering.
If you had told me 16 years ago that I would become a birth doula and childbirth educator, I would have laughed out loud. But that's who I became. And I was (and still am) good at that work. I found a passion...a true passion...and I did work that was making a difference in the world. All because of that little baby boy. He came into my world to teach me. To open me up to things I hadn't seen before. To experience the depths of despair to find what I was made of and to rise up again. That boy chose me because he knew I needed him. And he was right.
Every step for the past almost 16 years started with his birth. Two years later I was a Birth Doula, then a Childbirth Educator, then a Postnatal Educator...then after falling into a dark hole, I climbed out with even more strength than I ever knew I had. He and his brother were my inspirations. That second little baby chose me beyond a shadow of a doubt. Dramatic happenings occurred to bring him into the world because he knew I needed him. Those boys created the fight in me. They created the mama bear. They created the woman who knew I had to be better for them. And because of them, I found the light again. The real light. The shining light of who I was at my core. And the world opened up for me.
I finished my Bachelor's Degree at 42 years old, I became a Counselor and started my Masters Degree. And then my mom became sick and died. And I survived. And I learned. And I grew. And life and death blurred. And became intertwined and connected. And I changed my Masters program and in less than 3 months, I will have a Masters Degree in Gerontology and will hold the title of Gerontologist and Geriatric Care Manager.
And today, I began the next step...I enrolled in a Death Midwifery Certification program. A Death Midwife is defined as a practitioner who is committed to offering services (information, guidance, counseling, etc.) for all facets of the pan-death process, which includes three major stages of death/dying: Before (life threatening or terminal illness), During (active dying and death) and After (final rites, burial or cremation, funeral or memorial, bereavement). And thereby provides a continuum of direct support throughout all 7 stages included within which are:
1. End-of Life Education and Preparation
2. After the Terminal Diagnosis
3. During the Active Dying Stage
4. The Transition of Death Itself
5. Immediately Post Death
6. Final Arrangements
7. Care for the Bereaved Family
Sixteen years ago, death terrified me. Shoot, 6 years ago death terrified me. And then it came and it took my mother while she was in my arms. And it was heartbreaking and powerful at the same time. And I swear death touched me, anointed me if you will, and my passion for death was born. Just as I have believed for so many years that there are many different ways to give birth and people should be allowed to choose where and how they would like to birth and that they deserve support throughout the process and through postpartum, I believe people deserve to choose where and how they die and how their body is handled post-death and that those who are dying, and those who love them, deserve support throughout the process.
And so here I am...preparing to add to my repertoire the art of Death Midwifery. It feels like a natural extension of my Birth Doula work. It is so clear to me that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. And I have to give credit where credit is due...that sweet little baby who came into my world almost 16 years ago to help me find myself. Now he's embarking on his own path to find himself and my role is to hold his space and support him if/when he needs me. He taught me this role that I have carried over into so many aspects of my life. His brother helped enhance the role. They are my teachers, among the many other who have come into my life over the years. But they were my first. They were the ones who taught me the dance moves in this dance of life.
And so the dance continues...
Friday, May 9, 2014
Mother's Day
This will be my 5th Mother's Day without my mom.
This was my 1st: http://findingmymom.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html
That one was rough.
So was year two...and year three.
As soon as the Mother's Day cards would show up in the stores, I'd start getting sad. And mad. And annoyed.
At the same time, by year two, I remembered how hard it always was to find the "right" card for my mom with whom I had an often tumultuous relationship. I began to watch people reading Mother's Day cards and found it fascinating. Pick up a card, put it back, over and over and over. I wasn't the only one with a difficult relationship with my mom. Been there...done that...didn't miss it.
But I missed having a mom.
Cut to my 5th Mother's Day without a mom...and the day is certainly still a trigger. But time does heal. Well...time and a lot of therapy. ;)
I am much more capable of enjoying Mother's Day as a mother. I am able to handle Facebook posts...for the most part...I know when it's too much and when I am triggered.
Over the past few months I have copied and pasted my entire blog from when my mom was sick (see above link) into a word document. My intent is to bind it somehow...potentially make a book out of it...for me to have and keep. It was powerful to read through each and every post and to remember where I was back then...and how far I've come. It's still painful, but my mom's death was life changing for me. As the death of a mom should be. I've learned so much about myself. I am incredibly stronger. I am proud of who I am today. There was a time in my life when I couldn't imagine the world without my mom. Now, I've managed 4 and 1/2 rotations around the sun without her. And the world is still a beautiful place.
I won't lie...there have been experiences in my life that I desperately wished I could share with my mom. My Bachelor's Degree being a big one. I know how proud she would have been. I will have my Master's Degree in 4 months. I will miss not sharing this with my mom. There are a lot of things I want to call and talk to her about. At the same time, I have also had experiences when I thought, "Gosh, I'm so glad I don't have to talk to mom about this". She and I had different ideas about things. Choices I made were not always ones she approved of...and I spent most of my life trying to get her approval. I don't have to do that anymore. My choices are mine. My life is mine. And that's pretty damn freeing.
Along those lines, because of those experiences with my mom, I am determined that my children will know I love and support them ALWAYS...through any decision they choose to make...whether it is one that I agree with or not. Their lives are not mine to live. They get to make their own choices and I will always, always, always love them. Period. I hope they never stay awake at night worrying about my reaction to a decision in their life. I don't know...maybe everyone does that...but I want my kids to know that I will always support them. I will always be their safety net. Always. No judgement. It is not my place to judge. It is my place to love and support them.
My mom loved me. But she took a lot of my decisions and wondered how they reflected on her. And they simply didn't. But I understand how easy it is to carry those feelings as a mother and I give her grace for that.
But the reality is...I don't have to make her proud of me anymore. And I will never disappoint her again. And that's big in my life. What a difference 4 and 1/2 years makes.
On the 4th anniversary of her death last October, I walked upstairs to find both the touch lamps on in the master bedroom. Olly and I rarely touch those things. And I had never seen them both on before. There had been no weird weather activity or a low lying plane to cause any shaking in the house. Yet, there they were...both on, shining bright. And instantly, I just had this sense that it was mom. And that she was saying good-bye. She was affirming that I was okay without her now. It was an incredibly strong feeling. And since that day, I haven't felt her around. I don't sense that she is nearby as I had before. And, although I missed that feeling at the beginning, it quickly felt as though I was lighter. Mom knew I was okay without her. And she was able to finally be free. I believe she knew that I understood her better. I understood her demons and her struggles and she knew that we simply understood each other better after her death than we did during her life.
And so here we are on the 1st Mother's Day since that day. And yes...it's a trigger. And yes, there will likely always be the feeling that something is missing. But this Mother's Day is different. There is so much more peace. This year I can enjoy my boys and enjoy just being their mom. And I can honor my mom for giving me life. For doing her best. For not being perfect. And for lighting the path on so many lessons I needed to learn.
I found this article and enjoyed the 10 ideas to keep a memory alive. Mother's Day Without Your Mother I have my own ways...I donate to hospice every year. I like the idea of an act of kindness. My mom was an incredibly giving person and yet, never felt like she deserved the same kindness. We all deserve kindness. My mom deserved a lot more than she got.
So, here I sit on the eve of my 5th Mother's Day weekend without my mom. And gratefully, these past years have held so much growth. I have learned so much about myself and my mom. I have become stronger than I ever could have imagined I could be. I still have a lot of work to do, but the fact that I've come this far in 4 & 1/2 years is important and powerful.
Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. If you are someone without a mom this year, or if you have a mom with whom you have a difficult relationship, or you have an absent mother, honor wherever you are in that process and know you are not alone. Without our mothers none of us would be here. I am of the belief that we all pick our mothers because they are the one to best be able to teach us the life lessons we need to learn. I know my mom did that for me, although it took me many, many years to understand the lessons.
On Sunday, my 12 year old and I will make his special macaroni and cheese together. And I will laugh. And I will enjoy this time with my children. And I will send up a little shout out to my mom for giving me this life and this opportunity to become a mother myself and to be blessed with the amazing gift of my two children.
I wish you all an opportunity to find laughter and joy this Mother's Day.
This was my 1st: http://findingmymom.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html
That one was rough.
So was year two...and year three.
As soon as the Mother's Day cards would show up in the stores, I'd start getting sad. And mad. And annoyed.
At the same time, by year two, I remembered how hard it always was to find the "right" card for my mom with whom I had an often tumultuous relationship. I began to watch people reading Mother's Day cards and found it fascinating. Pick up a card, put it back, over and over and over. I wasn't the only one with a difficult relationship with my mom. Been there...done that...didn't miss it.
But I missed having a mom.
Cut to my 5th Mother's Day without a mom...and the day is certainly still a trigger. But time does heal. Well...time and a lot of therapy. ;)
I am much more capable of enjoying Mother's Day as a mother. I am able to handle Facebook posts...for the most part...I know when it's too much and when I am triggered.
Over the past few months I have copied and pasted my entire blog from when my mom was sick (see above link) into a word document. My intent is to bind it somehow...potentially make a book out of it...for me to have and keep. It was powerful to read through each and every post and to remember where I was back then...and how far I've come. It's still painful, but my mom's death was life changing for me. As the death of a mom should be. I've learned so much about myself. I am incredibly stronger. I am proud of who I am today. There was a time in my life when I couldn't imagine the world without my mom. Now, I've managed 4 and 1/2 rotations around the sun without her. And the world is still a beautiful place.
I won't lie...there have been experiences in my life that I desperately wished I could share with my mom. My Bachelor's Degree being a big one. I know how proud she would have been. I will have my Master's Degree in 4 months. I will miss not sharing this with my mom. There are a lot of things I want to call and talk to her about. At the same time, I have also had experiences when I thought, "Gosh, I'm so glad I don't have to talk to mom about this". She and I had different ideas about things. Choices I made were not always ones she approved of...and I spent most of my life trying to get her approval. I don't have to do that anymore. My choices are mine. My life is mine. And that's pretty damn freeing.
Along those lines, because of those experiences with my mom, I am determined that my children will know I love and support them ALWAYS...through any decision they choose to make...whether it is one that I agree with or not. Their lives are not mine to live. They get to make their own choices and I will always, always, always love them. Period. I hope they never stay awake at night worrying about my reaction to a decision in their life. I don't know...maybe everyone does that...but I want my kids to know that I will always support them. I will always be their safety net. Always. No judgement. It is not my place to judge. It is my place to love and support them.
My mom loved me. But she took a lot of my decisions and wondered how they reflected on her. And they simply didn't. But I understand how easy it is to carry those feelings as a mother and I give her grace for that.
But the reality is...I don't have to make her proud of me anymore. And I will never disappoint her again. And that's big in my life. What a difference 4 and 1/2 years makes.
On the 4th anniversary of her death last October, I walked upstairs to find both the touch lamps on in the master bedroom. Olly and I rarely touch those things. And I had never seen them both on before. There had been no weird weather activity or a low lying plane to cause any shaking in the house. Yet, there they were...both on, shining bright. And instantly, I just had this sense that it was mom. And that she was saying good-bye. She was affirming that I was okay without her now. It was an incredibly strong feeling. And since that day, I haven't felt her around. I don't sense that she is nearby as I had before. And, although I missed that feeling at the beginning, it quickly felt as though I was lighter. Mom knew I was okay without her. And she was able to finally be free. I believe she knew that I understood her better. I understood her demons and her struggles and she knew that we simply understood each other better after her death than we did during her life.
And so here we are on the 1st Mother's Day since that day. And yes...it's a trigger. And yes, there will likely always be the feeling that something is missing. But this Mother's Day is different. There is so much more peace. This year I can enjoy my boys and enjoy just being their mom. And I can honor my mom for giving me life. For doing her best. For not being perfect. And for lighting the path on so many lessons I needed to learn.
I found this article and enjoyed the 10 ideas to keep a memory alive. Mother's Day Without Your Mother I have my own ways...I donate to hospice every year. I like the idea of an act of kindness. My mom was an incredibly giving person and yet, never felt like she deserved the same kindness. We all deserve kindness. My mom deserved a lot more than she got.
So, here I sit on the eve of my 5th Mother's Day weekend without my mom. And gratefully, these past years have held so much growth. I have learned so much about myself and my mom. I have become stronger than I ever could have imagined I could be. I still have a lot of work to do, but the fact that I've come this far in 4 & 1/2 years is important and powerful.
Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. If you are someone without a mom this year, or if you have a mom with whom you have a difficult relationship, or you have an absent mother, honor wherever you are in that process and know you are not alone. Without our mothers none of us would be here. I am of the belief that we all pick our mothers because they are the one to best be able to teach us the life lessons we need to learn. I know my mom did that for me, although it took me many, many years to understand the lessons.
On Sunday, my 12 year old and I will make his special macaroni and cheese together. And I will laugh. And I will enjoy this time with my children. And I will send up a little shout out to my mom for giving me this life and this opportunity to become a mother myself and to be blessed with the amazing gift of my two children.
I wish you all an opportunity to find laughter and joy this Mother's Day.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
It's All About The Lessons
~ Be warned. This post may be a little "woo-woo" for some of you. I realize to some, a toothache is just a toothache, but I am a firm believer in the mind-body connection. Take it all for what it's worth. It's just my own personal experience that I need to get out of my head. ~
Yep. All of it.
It's all about the lessons.
The past few weeks have held a strong learning curve for me. I have had a section of teeth that have been giving me problems for about 2 years now. I had a tooth crowned that I knew I was going to revisit because of how much it hurt to put on the permanent crown and how much they had to numb me to work on it. But for a while, it sat dormant with just an occasional twinge.
Then last April, I found myself in quite a bit of pain. I went to the dentist, they referred me to an Endodontist and then the pain went away and I applauded myself for my ability to heal myself through the power of my incredible mind. ;) Truth is, I know that the upper right section of teeth is linked both to outwardly expressing yourself in the world and to issues with your father. It made sense that they were bothering me last April when I was in the process of moving my dad. So, I acknowledged the stress I was under and the work I was doing and TA-DA, I "fixed" my teeth! I.AM.AWESOME!
Oh, how the universe must have laughed at that. See, #4 above...A Lesson is Repeated Until It is Learned. There was more learning to be done here.
Cut to a couple of months ago when that area started bugging me again. Darn. But I thought, "Okay...just have to work through my stuff again and heal it". And let me tell you...I tried. I worked and worked and worked and worked and worked. And the pain just increased. I found myself in my dentist's chair unable to stop the tears from rolling down my face. I was desperate. The pain was breaking me. I came out with another Endodontist referral and I STILL thought I could figure this out on my own. I even went through a full energetic healing course for an entire weekend (not to heal my tooth, but thought I would probably figure it out along the way) and still came out hurting. What the hell? What was I doing wrong? I know how to do this stuff. I am mighty and powerful. Or wait...how come I feel so small and scared? What was I missing here? Where was my voice? Instead of feeling strong, I began to feel weaker and weaker and smaller and confused and scared and felt like I lost my voice entirely. What in the hell was happening? Why couldn't I figure this out? The more I tried, the more frustrated I became as the pain increased.
And then I was given a gift. The gift that said, "Maybe the lesson here is in surrendering...not fighting". SURRENDER. There it was again. The word that haunts me and insists I listen.
"When we try to control, we become controlled; when we release, we become free." ~ Bryant McGill
And so I called the Endodontist on April 1st. Only to find out he was leaving on vacation the following week and they didn't have any room for me until he got back. Okay, that's fine, I thought. I can tough it out until then and it gives me another two weeks to figure it all out myself. Yeah...that's perfect. I made the appointment, but still have time to figure it out myself. I'll probably cancel the appointment.
And then the universe laughed some more.
And the pain increased. And increased. And increased. And this past weekend, I finally was broken. I was raw and vulnerable and thought I was losing my mind. I couldn't think about anything but the pain. I worked all day Saturday, but I'm not sure how. I was in a fog of pain. And I was SO mad. April is a month of celebrating in my family. My wedding anniversary is the 10th, Olly's birthday is the 20th. My birthday is the 30th. We have a weekend away planned at the end of the month. WHY now? WHY? Oh how the self-pity set in. And the self-defeating thoughts. I felt small and weak and alone and simply a broken shell of myself.
And then I heard a message that came down loud and clear. Why are you suffering?
Good lord, why was I suffering? And the floodgates opened...because I am a caregiver, not a taker. My role in life is to help others find peace. Everyone else must come first. Don't take care of yourself. Take care of others. And the repeated message that I have been getting my entire life...you are not worthy...of love, of care, of peace, of anything. It was a volcano of erupting old stories. And then the lessons...How can you help anyone find peace if you don't allow it in to your own life? How can you love others if you don't love yourself? You cannot continue to give if you never receive. Well, I know all of that, but I have to take care of my dad and my family and my clients and my classes and blah, blah, blah, blah....How does your tooth feel?
And I told my brain to shut the hell up. I was not going to think my way through this anymore. I was going to feel. And my brain told me that we don't like to feel. And I told it to shut up. And I surrendered. Inside a dark, black, cold, isolated, painful space, I surrendered.
Yesterday morning, I called another Endodontist. They got me in immediately. I went through a couple of painful tests to identify the tooth and the tears flowed in yet another dentist chair. I told the dental assistant to numb me a lot. I didn't want to feel anything. Four injections later, I was out of pain for the first time in a LONG time. The epinephrine in the injections made me super shaky, but I didn't care. Bring it on. My brain came in and said "your heart is racing" and I told it to shut up. I surrendered. I didn't need those messages anymore. And then the tooth was opened up and the dentist exclaimed, "Wow...your tooth is MAD" and he had to take a picture of what he saw. And when I saw it, I audibly gasped, put my hands over my mouth and started to cry. That tooth held so much suffering. It took so much for me. It took all my lessons that I didn't want to learn and it held them until the volcano of lessons needed a way to explode and that hole drilled into the tooth allowed them out.
I am not ignoring the fact that the section of my mouth tied in to outward expression of my place in the world now has 3 root canals. I am not ignoring the fact that I am numbing that part of my mouth. I know that the lesson will find another way to come out if I think I can numb it. I take that very, very seriously. And now, I can actually work on the lesson...without the pain. And the first lesson I had to learn AGAIN was to surrender.
Medical technology exists for a reason. I may not believe in a lot of it. But a lot of people don't believe what I believe in either. And both beliefs are fine. But there are truths to both beliefs. And yesterday, medical technology came to my rescue to relieve me of pain and allow me to move forward and learn my lessons inside a whole body instead of one that was withering away in pain.
I ache today. A root canal is not a simple procedure. It's an invasion. But for me, it was also a release and I fully feel healing taking place. Healing of my tooth, but healing of my heart too. I learned the lesson of surrender. I learned that I must take care of myself in order to take care of others. I learned that I am worthy of that care. Those lessons may come around again. In fact, I am pretty sure they will. But each time I learn them, the next time around is a little quicker. And ideally, the lessons come with much less pain. That is the goal. #9 - The Answers Lie Inside You.
On a side note...my office looked pretty slow this month. I was a bit worried about that even though I always know there is an ebb and flow to a counseling practice. But I realize now, I needed the slow time to allow myself the ability to have time to get the help I needed. Suddenly, once the surrender took place, I have been getting a new inquiry every few days, clients are reaching out for appointment times, and my calendar is filling up again. The universe is no longer laughing at me, but smiling along with me as I move forward out of that terribly difficult stuck place I was in.
And so now it is time to heal. Time to smile. Time to re-immerse myself in the month of celebrations. Time to enjoy. Time to live in the now and not in the stories of the past.
"When you surrender to what is and so become fully present, the past ceases to have any power. You do not need it anymore. Presence is the key. Now is the key". ~ Eckhart Tolle
Here's to Now. :)
Saturday, March 22, 2014
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! :)
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! :)
Friday, March 14, 2014
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. :)
Thursday, March 6, 2014
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!
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!
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