A lovely water birth on Halloween

Last night I got an update on the woman who had been contracting since 3am. Things were stronger, maybe 10 minutes apart. Cool beans. It was 9pm so I quickly hit the hay. At 11:30 my phone rang. It was the other midwife telling me this woman's contractions were every 3 minutes. Holy shit! They live about 45 minutes north of me. So I hit the road, said my little Driving-to-a-Birth prayer and listened to the radio. I heard at least 10 good songs on the way. And not just background noise, but 10 really good, sing-at-the-top-of-your-lungs type of songs. (Like the drunk girl at a party: OMIGAWD! I LOVE THIS SONG.....OMIGAWD! I LOVE THIS SONG TOO!)
I kept thinking: I'm going to miss this birth. This is baby #3. Contractions every 3 minutes? 45 minute drive? At least the music is good.
I made it there around 12:20am and the woman was still pregnant, still cooking in active labor. They were filling up the pool and Conan O'Brian was on the mute TV.
I helped the midwife set up and the woman got into the pool.
We all settled into the timelessness that is active/transition-y labor. Hip squeezes, affirmations, cool clothes on sweaty brow, sips of water, helping the dad, etc.
In the background Conan O'Brian turned into Carson Daly who then morphed into Entertainment Tonight. I really wanted to turn the TV off, because I had to fight my eyes from resting on the screen. It's like being at a doula birth in the hospital and you gotta just turn down the noise and site of the EFM screen, otherwise everyone is staring at it for the next contraction and to watch the bumpy, scratchy lines of the baby's heart tones.
The baby shifted, moved down in one fell movement. The bag of water broke and a little head was crowning in no time. This baby was coming 3 weeks early, and the other kids weren't big at birth. In just a few minutes, a little baby girl was born. I think she weighed 6# 14oz. A little peanut baby. This was this mama's first home birth and her first birth sans epidural. She did so great!
It was a really lovely, buttery birth. I was home by 6:30. Got S to school by 8:30; was able to sleep for a half hour before a prenatal here at the house. Now little E and I have just had lunch and I'm trying to convince him to walk with me to the farmer's market because it's lovely and sunny today, although really windy.

It's Halloween. We already have a ton of candy from last Friday night's Downtown Trick or Treat and little E's preschool party~ which, I have to make a quick comment about.
Our daughter S goes to a very lefty charter school and we love it.
Our son goes to a very blue collar preschool and we love it.
However, the two are *very* different. The charter school is having a Halloween party (and they're even calling it that!), but all treats need to be "healthy". Cool, I'm all for it. I made pumpkin apple muffins with whole wheat flour; I halved the sugar and omitted the streusel topping.
When I picked little E up yesterday from the party I forgot to dress him for, he was sitting in front of his own plate of Ruffles, Doritos, a sugar cookie, and a cup of orange Faygo. The teacher reminded me not to forget his goodie bag, which weighed about 3 pounds and was full of real-deal Halloween candy. I thought for sure I'd also find a little airplane bottle of booze and some ZigZag papers in there.

What the hell are they thinking?! Why on earth would you give 3 year olds THAT much candy the day before Halloween? The professors and hob nobs at our organic-gardening,earth-loving,compost-everything charter school would be calling a serious meeting about such a grab bag.
Me, I'm somewhere in between. I grew up in that blue collar world, where all parents smell like they've smoked a pack of Pall Malls in a closed car, and I've slowly been transitioning to Lefty Land since my teens. Both camps get on my tits for various reasons... we had a good laugh here about the wide range of ahem, "values". Whatever. As long as I get all the chocolate, it's all good.

Have You Seen ME?

Lord knows I haven't.
Either I've got too much going on or I'm having early-onset dementia.
Last Thursday was a beautiful day. We had friends over for lunch, and then E and I played in the yard, I cut the grass and he rode his bike. About an hour after we came in, I realized that I FORGOT TO TAKE HIM TO PRESCHOOL! How did that happen?
Well no biggie, we had fun outside in the sun.
The weekend blurred past and Monday came. We handed in S's state brochure she worked on for class, had a really nice lunch packed, had a good day.I gave a talk to a classroom of anthropology students about lay midwifery in the US. I was nervous but went into Me Mode, which includes laughing, swearing and lots of hand gestures. Then I met another midwife for tea and very serious talking that left my brain buzzing for the remainder of the day. Once home I did lots of laundry and then buzzed around making dinner, because S has dance class at 6 on Monday nights. Even she asked if it was dance class night. Yup. I made a delicious dinner, we played, did puzzles, discussed Halloween costumes, and I caught up on a bunch of phone with clients and consults.
G came home with 2 more chickens for me to skin and quarter and before you knew it, we were all falling into bed.
This morning I woke up and said: Holy shit! S we never took you to dance class last night!
She had forgotten too and we laughed about it and said Oh Well. We had a nice evening together, S, E and I.

Today I got S off to school on time. Came home, made E breakfast and strained cooked chicken carcass out of the stock pot to collect lots of chicken stock for future soups. Feeling very Pioneer Woman Resourceful, I got E dressed and ready and headed towards his neurologist's office.
Little E has been having a LOT more seizures lately, combined with apneic episodes where his eyes roll back, he inhales and doesn't exhale. At least not until he falls to the ground and wakes up with another knock on his head. He's also been having apneic episodes at bedtime, just as he drifts off to sleep.
The neurologist wrote us a new prescription for the same meds, higher dose. Had no answers to my questions because no one seems to understand our crazy, mysterious brains. I get that there are no answers, but it's very frustrating.
You get a pat on the back, a new script and the line: Let's keep hoping he'll grow out of it!
Bloody hell.

In the neurology office my cell rang but I didn't answer it. It was another midwife. Once in the car I checked my voicemail and heard that a client of hers that I'm also supposed to be attending has been having contractions since 3am, and having diarrhea too. She's 3 weeks early, but that's ok. I immediately think about child care, getting E's prescriptions filled, getting E to school today, and making 17 pumpkin muffins for S's halloween party tomorrow at school.

At home I make E and I lunch but he doesn't want it. I'm feeling so down about all this seizure disorder stuff that I allow him to eat half of a huge Butterfinger candy bar. What the hell, right? This sweet boy who has to chug down very vile medicine twice a day and still falls down at random, wherever his brain lets him down. Eat that Butterfinger, my angel.

E goes upstairs to visit my mom. I check emails, lose track of time and grab him up to take him to school, feeling nearly late as usual. He cries for my mom to come with us, so she does. I run him into preschool and see all the other kids wearing costumes. Little E is looking at everyone a little perplexed. I just close my eyes and mutter, Shit.
How could I forget to bring his costume? Of course this is the day they'd have their little party! (They only have preschool on Tuesdays and Thursdays!) E doesn't seem to mind that he'd wearing his stripey turtle neck and gray pants and everyone else looks like Ninja Turtles, Disney princesses, bugs, pirates, etc.
The teachers looked at my funny. I felt like I was going to cry.
I wanted to tell them: No, we are NOT Jehovah's Witnesses. I'm just a shitty mom.

What the heck is wrong with me? My life seems to be plastered with little sticky notes reminding me of all I need to do. And still I forget these details.

Okay, enough of me. I've spent more time blogging/whining when I should have been making those damn pumpkin muffins.

Nurses trying to take down CPMs

I received this in an email today. It is an article from the Association of Women's Health, Obstetric and Neonatal Nurses.
This is so disturbing and frustrating. I've been conducting a response letter in my head all day. Read on...

From the Association of Women's Health, Obstetric and Neonatal
> Nurses Fall 2007 newsletter�
> __________________________________________________
>
> Certified Professional (Lay) Midwives Seeking Licensure Status
> without Demonstration of Adequate Education, Training, and Physician
> Links
>
> Certain associations representing midwives have been vigorously
> pursuing the enactment of legislation that would codify for
> licensure purposes, the "professional" status of Certified
> Professional (Lay) Midwives. AWHONN is aware of such legislative
> activity in Maine, Delaware, Illinois and Alabama and requests that
> AWHONN sections monitor such activities in their respective states
> and inform the Public Affairs Department at AWHONN Headquarters
> immediately. AWHONN has prepared materials for use in combating
> this unfortunate trend, which would contribute to placing patients
> at serious risk in the face of deliver complications.
>
> Background
> AWHONN strongly supports the practice of midwifery by a Certified
> Nurse Midwife (CNM), who is a registered nurse with an advanced
> degree and broad range of training in areas including pharmacology,
> and formal collaborates with other health care professionals as an
> expectation of their licensure to provide safe, holistic care.
>
> Certified Professional (Lay) Midwives (CPMs), in contrast, have a
> far more limited apprenticeship and are not required to have
> relevant college degree, pharmacology training, or collaborative
> practice agreement with an obstetrician or hospital in case of
> complications.
>
> Given the disparities in education, preparedness and professional
> back-up, AWHONN is concerned that state licensure of CPMs with have
> a significantly negative implications for women and their newborns.
>
> The term "Certified Professional Midwife" is misleading to the
> public about the breadth of education and training that the lay
> midwife may to have, and AWHONN fears that licensing these lay
> practitioners will serve to foster this misunderstanding and place
> consumers and patients at unnecessary risk.
>
> Take Action! This is an urgent situation that requires YOUR action!
>
> � Explore whether this issue has arisen in your state and let
> AWHONN's Public Affairs Department know promptly. Contact Lauren
> Bates, AWHONN Legislative Associate, at LBates@awhonn.org
>
> � To see if your state has pending legislation to provide
> licensing for CPMs, visit www.awhonn.org/policy and click on "State
> Legislation".
>
> � AWHONN headquarters will assist you in developing an
> appropriate response your section can then convey to your state
> legislators.
>
> Your voice matters on this issue. AWHONN is not opposing lay
> midwives having their livelihood, but rather is against licensure
> that could mislead the public and cause harm when services are
> rendered by those who would be licensed as "professionals," but do
> not posses the training or clinical affiliations typically required
> for licensure of trained health professionals.
>
>
> - Lauren Bates
>
>

An Edina to my Patsy!

Someone left this comment in regards to PMS and I accidentally hit REJECT instead of PUBLISH. I appreciate the support, so I'm copying her comment here. Thanks!
********************************************************************************

Hello....I can totally relate to how you are feeling and it does me the world of good to read that someone else feels the way I do right before my period.
I drop things, I feel "spacey", I crave..have to have..carbs and chicken wings...and I am sure the rest of the world are definetly without a doubt IDOITS and more. I want to paint and draw and metitate and think and dream very werid and intense dreams. Sometimes I am wondering if I am a liability to my clients (I am a Midwife) but it seems to me that I am PMSing when I do my off call clinic weeks...thank the goddess. The first day of my period isn't too bad but by the second day..occasionally the first...I HAVE TO SLEEP and I will fall asleep at the drop of a hat...sigh...sometimes the bloating is awful. And I can not bear tight clothing (the stuff that was just fine before is now WAY TO BLOODY TIGHT). In fact a sarong is just fine and I don't care how cold it is outside. And then I cry.
I am there now...can you tell?

Off on my dates

I thought I had PMS last week. Apparently I was wrong and was just being incredibly moody and slightly bitchy. PMS set in last night, for real. I'm hip to it now. My old inner smoker rears its head and I now (as I ignore the impulse to purchase a pack of Camel Lights) acknowledge that as Sign 1. Sign 2 is when I'm *about* to snap at my husband or children, but I don't. Or I do, but it's under my breath. Sign 3 is also very clear, I really and truly believe that 98% of the people around me have suddenly turned into absolute morons.

So there. It's off my chest. I am a good person with a full supply of pads and tampons to see me through the next week.
I will not smoke, snap, or tell anyone that they are a moron. To their face.

Inhale. Exhale.

Back to my lovely book:
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. Check it
out.

The Birth Project, Issue 4

Come and see our new and improved website!

Issue 4 has just been mailed out to those of you who subscribe. As usual, it's another great issue we're super proud of!

Also check out our Merchandise page~ we've got great buttons and t-shirts available for all of you birth junkies out there.

And for you bloggers/writers, check out our submissions wish list. We'd love to receive your work!

Seizure update

At the end of May, I slowly weaned little E from his seizure medication, Topamax.
He hadn't had any seizures since February and there were definitely times where he didn't get meds because he fell asleep early, we forgot, were traveling, etc.
He did great all summer. No seizures and no medication from June until the end of September.
Then a few weeks ago he started dropping all over the place. Little E has "atonic" seizures, which means he just drops without any notice. It is very short-lived, only 15-30 seconds that he is out. Obviously, the scary part is what will he bang his head on on the way down? This
website explains it well.
One day he had 9 drops in one afternoon. The next day 6. I started him on his meds straight away and by the end of the week they were fewer. He hasn't had any seizures in the past week that we're aware of.

This website shows crazy helmets for adults and children. This makes me want to cry to see these ridiculous things. It actually says, "The helmet that kids and children LOVE to wear!" For heaven's sake, it looks like a cloth diaper on their heads.

Pray for my sweet boy.

PMS- so THAT'S my problem!

I don't know how this happens, but it does, nearly every other month.
I get all moody, introspective and tired. I can't shake the leaden feeling that brings. I wonder what is wrong with me.
And then it dawns on me, I should be starting my period soon. Damn PMS. Of course I have a period every month, but I only get PMS-y every other month or so.
I spend at least 24 hours brooding, before I realize that this is all hormone-induced, and then lighten up as a result of that realization.

My MIL's plane just landed (so strange how you can check that out online. It said plane landed at 2:28. I looked at the computer's clock and it said 2:28~ crazy). I have to get her from the airport in an hour or so after she clears customs. Which means S coming home from school and my appearing at the airport should happen at the same time. Damn. I think I'll have to get S out of school early. She'll be upset about that.

Must go drag E into the car to get S to pick up M.

No Sir, I Don't Like This

I've come to the conclusion that I do not like G being away from home~ at all.
I've realized that despite all attempts over the years to shake away all forms of co-dependency, traces remain.

Well what the hell IS marriage but co-dependency?

I'm so used to ME being the one who is away from home. It is me who leaves the house to attend a birth that could take 4 hours or 48 hours. It is me who is distracted outside of the home, looking forward to joining my family again, but for the most part, not really thinking much about it.

G went to England for 5 measly days. It wasn't so much the length of time that struck me, but the distance. A whole ocean away unsettled me.

Tonight he is sleeping in the woods somewhere 3 hours north with our fishing/kayaking/camping neighbor. The planned the trip a few weeks back before G's grandmother died. I encouraged him to go on this trip anyway, because he never goes on trips like these and I knew he'd love it. He's quite the bivouac type of guy.
He'll be home Wednesday afternoon.

It's nearly midnight. I've read around 130 pages tonight from the book, Into the Forest.
Holy shit, that book is disturbing, beautiful and addictive. Plot: the modern world crashes. No electricity, gas, cars, airplanes, government or economy. Two sisters who were raised on the outskirts of a small town, in a house that butts up against state-protected forest are left to forge for themselves while the world crumbles around them (without them knowing much since they can't get into the world via car or internet). They have to learn to grow their own food, store it for winter, one sister gets raped and ultimately becomes pregnant... too much. But still very good.
However, as I sit in my big cold, old house with just the children in bed and my mother upstairs, and as I hear the occasional rowdy college kid from the street, it's very easy to imagine the fear of being in that house with those sisters. Meanwhile, my husband is in the forest and I want him home.
I don't mean to be dramatic, but I don't like being alone.
When I was a kid and my parents divorced, my stay at home mom had to work for the first time in almost 20 years. That meant shitty wages and shitty shifts. Usually an afternoon shift. As we got a little older, my blossoming teenage sister and brother would leave the house, leaving my scared 10 year old butt at home, obeying my 9pm bedtime despite no one being around to enforce it. I'd lay in bed and listen to all the sounds from the street. Depending on where we were living, the sounds would range from quiet sub to very noisy low-income housing.
I'm realizing now that I've not quite overcome that dread of being alone.
And I feel pretty pathetic as a 34 year old woman not being able to fall asleep at 11:30 on a Sunday night.

In other news, my dear friend V called me yesterday. Her father had to undergo emergency surgery at the U from which he's having a hard time recovering. They told her he has a 30% chance of living. He's on life support right now. She's an only child, her parents are divorced, and he's only 59 or 60 or so.
Mr. O., her dad, was always very kind to me. V and I hung out all through high school, attached at the hip. In so many ways, he is like a blood relative to me. He paid for my plane ticket to Europe when we were 19 because he knew my broke family could never send me. He bought us so many meals at the Fleetwood when we were teenagers, while he chain smoked Virginia Slims and gave us the low-down, half-assed gossip of fooufy A2 grownups. Many, many good memories with V and her dad.
Praying that he makes a miraculous recovery. Waiting all day and night for my phone to ring, to give me some news update of his health. On-call in a very different way.
With this happening and reading Into the Forest, I'm all sorts of triggered about a father figure possibly passing. And my husband gone for a few days.
Oy vey, I'm an over-thinking emotional hoo-haa.

In other news, I attended the expo today where I gave my much anticipated presentation to a huge audience of (ready for this?) ahem, 3. Uh huh, three.
Cozy and casual and I didn't feel overwhelmed at least. :)
And I must say, that while I appreciate many modalities of alternative health and living, it was hard to keep my working-class cynicism down today. I saw massages performed where hands never actually touched the body on the table. I saw animal clairvoyants, and folks who sold very overpriced bags of easy-to-grow herbs like mint and lavender. I saw holistic dog food that cost more than 3 days of meals for my family. I also talked to a lot of very nice, passionate people.

I really should try to go to bed. I'm not meant to read disturbing things. I take them on into my life as reality, I swear. Hard to shake so many things.

oh yeah, Sunday

I'll be here this Sunday. It looks like it will be pretty interesting. I'm giving my first real presentation. Come watch me make a fool out of myself as I nervously chatter with high velocity throughout my power point.

Midwives are used to being silent in the corner, letting other woman take the stage, you know?

Catch up Friday

I've been wanting to post something, many things, all this past week but have not had the time. Not that things have been incredibly busy, but life has just been in the way in a really benign way.

The Hula Girl. Last week I was able to sit in on my daughter's hip hop dance class. All of the parents are invited to watch the class once a month. I got all anthropological in there as I watched a bunch of girls, ages 7-10, learn to walk with attitude and swivel their hips in this very tough, hip way. It was lovely really. You could tell they were not as freed up as they would normally be because they were being watched by parents and siblings. My daughter said as much afterward.
You might think I'm nuts writing that, but nothing they did was sexual or "too old" for them. They looked strong and feisty and they were learning how to use parts of their bodies that we just don't use in the western world. I'm always amazed at births when we encourage women to swivel their hips to help turn or drop a baby and women just look at you with this huge disconnect. HOW do I do THAT?
Like you're asking them to wave a phantom limb. We're so damn stiff in the hips. We never squat, sit on the floor, or shake our junk often enough. It's just not proper, right?

Well I was proud to see my daughter learning to swivel and just BE in her body, finding the beat in the air and letting her body take over. You could see it happening. It was very cool. That's what dancing should be about. And birth. And life, for that matter. Find your beat and swivel with a fierce smile on your face.


In other news, we finally got The Birth Project, Issue 4 to the printers (a few days late). As always, we're happy with it and proud. They should be ready for mailing Monday if all goes well.

G came home from England on Wednesday evening. I was so happy to see him. I was shocked by how much I missed him. It didn't help that I was gearing up for ovulation during that time, but I really missed him. I felt very restless at night when the kids were in bed. Part of me felt like a rebellious teenager with no car or money on a Saturday night; the other part felt like depressed single mother. I normally think of myself as very independent from what G does. My career, hobbies and friends do not usually include him (because almost everything involves birthwork).
But damn, I missed him. I just wanted to lay in bed together and smell his neck and talk about what we've been doing the past 5 days. Crazy.


There was an older midwife on NPR's The Story last night. I missed it, but intend on listening to it in their archives. Supposed to be very good, so check it out at
www.thestory.org under archives.
She runs this birth center


S is staying the night with a friend from school tonight, which leaves little E home with us. What to do, what to do tonight and this weekend?

Butterfingers, statues, and a waterpark

Tonight G leaves for the funeral trip to England.
This morning I received two cryptic messages from the UK.
One just read: G, could you please bring a Butterfinger when you come?
I assume they mean the candy bar.

The other was a rambly description of how to get off one plane and board another in Amsterdam. "go to the left of the big statue that looks like two rag dolls. If you go to the right you will go through customs. you go through customs in Manchester, not Amsterdam. you might miss your plane. to the left is a shop with magazines. go that way..."

My husband is a very competent person, but for some reason I can imagine him forgetting his visa, his ipod or carry-on on the plane. i have a mental list of Dos and Don'ts as if he were 6 and not 36. Restraining myself so far. But now I have to pass on this list of instructions that includes candy bars and navigating large statues.

Tomorrow we're going to a festival in my sister's town with the kids. Rides, cotton candy, dirty farm animals in the "petting zoo" that no amount of Purell will make me feel good about.

Just remembered this morning that S also has a birthday party to attend at an indoor water park an hour away. Other family members were invited to stay for the 4 hours span for a discounted price. I turned this down initially before funeral plans were made. Now I realize little E and I will have to drive the hour back home to wait around before driving back down to pick her up. Damn. But I don't really want to be in my swim suit around all the school moms. Not for 4 hours. Shite.

I need to get the kids up. I need to shower. We need to be out the door in 45 minutes.

Boring, every day post

I just received the flight information for G's trip home.
Crazy itinerary!
Fly from Metro at 10pm; arrive 8 hours, 45 minutes later in Amsterdam at 11:40am.
An hour and a half layover in Amsterdam.
Then fly to Manchester; that flight is 1 and 1/2 hours long.

He leaves Friday night, arrives in the UK Saturday afternoon. The funeral for Nan is Monday. He leaves Wednesday morning to come home. He'll have the same flight schedule for the way back.
That will be a looooong 5 days. Yikes.

G and his friends started processing the chickens yesterday. They are huge meat birds! He only brought one home last night. He brought it in a garbage bag because they had nothing that could hold it whole. I weighed the wrapped chicken in my baby scale and it weighed 7 pounds, 4 oz! It's like a small turkey. There's no fat on it; it looks lovely and fresh. I'm roasting it now. I am planning on it taking 2-3 hours. I've never roasted a chicken before. My mom and sister used to all the time when I was growing up. Hopefully it comes out all right.
It smells good.

I borrowed the movie The Magus from the library this week. It's an old Michael Caine film (I heart Michael Caine) from the John Fowles book by the same name. My friend Chuck had me read that book when I first met him years ago. It's a really good but trippy book. I'm still not sure why he had me read it. I had no idea it was made into a movie (sometime in the early 70s).
My plans tonight are to put the kids to bed and watch The Magus.

Oh, and my cute, girly Arbonne consultant is bringing my new powder foundation and exfoliating scrub tonight. It's been on back order for a few weeks. She's driving over an hour to bring it to me. I told her to just mail it, or wait to the weekend and I'd meet her half way, but she said she'd bring it out. She's serious about cosmetics.
I really do like the Arbonne products. I bought an embarrassing dollar amount of it this summer as I prepared mentally to turn 34. I had similar neuroses at 24, 29, and now 34. Heavens knows what the hell I'll need to do when I'm turning 39.
Right now, I'm obsessed by my laugh lines. But hey, I do see the positive light~ at least they're not those horrid, sour-lemon lines, right? Shows I laugh more than frown, cringe, or scream. :)

Fear of the Four Letter Word(s)?

Who mentioned this? Can't remember....wait, yes I do. It was at the birth network conference last week. Linda Smith (who is a great speaker if you ever get the chance to hear her~ she's done great research), spoke about women being afraid of 4 letter words coming from their bodies. And I'm wondering if lately, another word has been added.

PUKE- many, many women vomit during labor, especially transition. It's our body's way of emptying out to make use of any extra room for muscle action when we're getting ready to birth.

SHIT-and even more women (most every one) poops while she is pushing. you just can't help it. the baby's head steamrolls your rectum before making that45 degree angle to come out the vagina and cross the perineum.

MILK- this is what we pondered at the conference. is MILK another 4 letter word? are some women embarrassed by it, disgusted even, that their breasts can be so full of milk that it can shoot 4 feet across the room without a hand or mouth on it? yep, some women and men think this way.

BABY?- is baby a 4 letter word? are all these younger women truly afraid of this 4 letter beast and the way it "damages" our pelvic floors (whatever)? the way it makes us PUKE, SHIT, and express MILK from breasts that are surely for men and not babies?


No,this can't be. I feel like staying up late and writing letters to all the teenage girl magazines out there. something titled The Truth About Childbirth.
Can you imagine the uproar? I can hear frantic parents fret about their teenage daughters learning about sex and birth (real sex and birth). They'd complain about keeping them pure, abstaining, etc. Yet they'd feel totally fine that their daughters were reading Cosmo Girl or Young Miss loaded with ways on how to lose 10 pounds quick, look just like some anorexic celeb in just 5 minutes, or how to tell if your friend is a Best or a Bitch.

I really feel like retreating to the hills with my family, a pack of goats, and a deck of cards.


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Business of Being Born

Oooo, doesn't THAT look cozy?

Saturday I stood at my business booth in downtown Ann Arbor's Birth Network birth fair from 12-4pm. Later that evening I took little E to a screening of Ricki Lake's: The Business of Being Born. (Which was a really good documentary, but somehow I'm feeling like something was missing that I can't put my finger on). Following the movie, there was a panel of professionals from the community. There was A. Smith who is my friend and my former preceptor, a woman from the local Lamaze chapter, Barbara Hoteling who I think is the president of Lamaze right now (and she's a sassy-assed Southern lady and I love her), there was Ray DeVries who is a bioethicist from the U of M (and is very pro midwife), and then there was a female OB from U of M. The audience asked questions to the panel in which they took turn answering.
Someone brought up the fact that the U of M, despite it's claim to support women's natural birth choices, are spending millions of dollars on new surgery suites and all the extra beds required to offer a 50% cesarean rate! WTF????
How does that support natural birth?
The OB said that birth is "big business, we all know that. Heck, even home birth is big business..."
A home birth midwife shouted out, "To WHOM?! HOW is home birth BIG BUSINESS?! How many home birth midwives do you know that drive a Lexus?!" The audience roared and clapped.
The OB rolled her eyes and went on to explain that she provides elective cesareans because she believes in listening to what woman wants. It's a societal trend, she explained.
She was speaking to the wrong church and choir.

Barbara Hotelling went OFF. She said, "If you really want to support women, you need to be spending millions of dollars on birth centers, not surgery rooms."

Amanda Smith said (when asked how do we train new CNMs and docs in normal birth) that they should be required to intern with a home birth midwife as part of their rotation.

Fabulous evening. I left feeling equal parts discouraged for the future of childbearing women, and refreshed by the many kick-ass people in our community.

I actually stopped to thank the OB before I left because she had some big ovaries to step into that forum and face being blasted by the birth junkies. I didn't agree with everything she said, but it's no use pointing fingers. We need to bridge that gap. And honestly, the hospitals around here have been very kind to the midwives and doulas.

At the end of the month I'm giving a presentation to a class of U of M anthropology students about What I Do. Should be interesting.


In other news, my husband's grandmother, or Nan, passed away Friday. Everyone is trying to make last-minute flights to get to England for the services. The only reason he might go is because his aunts said they'd pay for it. Heavens knows we don't have the cash to send him over.
We shall see.