I just got back from a weekend long training workshop. It was a labor assistant training. A lot like the one I did four and a half years ago to do what I do now. Serve birthing women. Since I'm a birth junkie one certification just isn't enough for me, so that was what brought me to the workshop. At it's closing, my best friend and partner took me aside and told me something humbling and powerful. I'd like to share it with you.
She was the workshop sponsor and organizer. I helped her get things together, but really she did all the hard stuff. So she says to me, "Wow, we really did a good thing." Yeah, really we did. Women need other women in birth. They need to know they aren't broken. They need to know their bodies were made to do this and they still work. But, what she said after that was the real wow for me.
She went on to tell me that, in essence, that entire workshop was a baby for me. It was a product of my hard work and labor, it was my birth.
See, she started as my client two years ago. Sometime during her pregnancy she told me she wanted to do what I did and wanted to learn from me. She went on to have a beautiful unassisted home birth that I was lucky enough to witness. And now she's working on becoming quite the kick ass doula. That, she says, is because of me.
Two other women in this class were former clients of mine. And every single woman there is on fire to change the state of birth. It is a revolution, one woman at a time.
And so, I gave birth. I gave birth six years ago quite literally to a eight pound ten ounce baby girl who changed my life. And I gave birth this weekend. I saw some of the work, tears, frustration, pride, smiles, heartbreak and heartswells turn into something beautiful. I am truly honored to have been a part.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Someone I'd like to share with you
Thomas Joel Waits. That was his name. On January 14, 1997, he ended his life. He was fifteen.
I don't know how to tell you what this boy meant to me. He wasn't my boyfriend or anything like that. Thomas was my best friend. I called him my little cousin, but really he was the little cousin of my childhood best friend. He and I formed a relationship, a bond, quickly and like nothing I had ever known before - or since to be honest. We fit in with each other when no one else understood. Which probably was a little odd since I was three years older than him. But we got each other.
Thomas, well we all called him TJ. For as long as I knew him it was TJ. Until the very short months before his death. He asked that we call him Thomas. TJ was a name his dad had given him. And even now, even after his death, it feels wrong to call him TJ. Even though it is far more familiar than Thomas to me. But somehow TJ seems disrespectful. So I still say Thomas. Anyway, Thomas was probably the most beautiful person I have ever known in so many ways. There was a light in him that people gravitated toward. And when he took his life I hated him. I hated him for taking that light away from all of us who needed it so badly. But I have come to realize that Thomas felt his death was needed more.
Thomas was trapped and on the morning he decided to kill himself he went to school, life as usual. Except he was sick all day. Not because of what he knew was coming, but because he did not take his insulin. Thomas was diabetic, and he knew what not taking his meds would do to him, which was exactly what he needed in order to be able to complete his day. He spent all day at school in the nurse's office. Before he went home that day he told his friend down the street to come over. But not until Thomas called. About an hour or so after he got home, Thomas called his friend and told him to come over. Let yourself in, he said. He hung up the phone, went to his back yard, and shot himself.
Strangely, at the funeral everyone looked at me with pity. They would come up to me and say, "He loved you, you know." Yes, I know. They would tell me, "He carried only two pictures with him and you were one of them." Yes, I know.
Losing such a beautiful soul was like losing part of myself. And every year, I find ways to keep him alive. If I don't do this, I am afraid that part of myself will die with him. I hope you don't mind me sharing him with you today. He's been gone for ten years now. I hope the man he would have been is proud of the woman I am. I still grieve for him. In a more peaceful way, but grief just the same.
I hope you are at peace, my beautiful boy. I miss you with every fiber of my being.
I don't know how to tell you what this boy meant to me. He wasn't my boyfriend or anything like that. Thomas was my best friend. I called him my little cousin, but really he was the little cousin of my childhood best friend. He and I formed a relationship, a bond, quickly and like nothing I had ever known before - or since to be honest. We fit in with each other when no one else understood. Which probably was a little odd since I was three years older than him. But we got each other.
Thomas, well we all called him TJ. For as long as I knew him it was TJ. Until the very short months before his death. He asked that we call him Thomas. TJ was a name his dad had given him. And even now, even after his death, it feels wrong to call him TJ. Even though it is far more familiar than Thomas to me. But somehow TJ seems disrespectful. So I still say Thomas. Anyway, Thomas was probably the most beautiful person I have ever known in so many ways. There was a light in him that people gravitated toward. And when he took his life I hated him. I hated him for taking that light away from all of us who needed it so badly. But I have come to realize that Thomas felt his death was needed more.
Thomas was trapped and on the morning he decided to kill himself he went to school, life as usual. Except he was sick all day. Not because of what he knew was coming, but because he did not take his insulin. Thomas was diabetic, and he knew what not taking his meds would do to him, which was exactly what he needed in order to be able to complete his day. He spent all day at school in the nurse's office. Before he went home that day he told his friend down the street to come over. But not until Thomas called. About an hour or so after he got home, Thomas called his friend and told him to come over. Let yourself in, he said. He hung up the phone, went to his back yard, and shot himself.
Strangely, at the funeral everyone looked at me with pity. They would come up to me and say, "He loved you, you know." Yes, I know. They would tell me, "He carried only two pictures with him and you were one of them." Yes, I know.
Losing such a beautiful soul was like losing part of myself. And every year, I find ways to keep him alive. If I don't do this, I am afraid that part of myself will die with him. I hope you don't mind me sharing him with you today. He's been gone for ten years now. I hope the man he would have been is proud of the woman I am. I still grieve for him. In a more peaceful way, but grief just the same.
I hope you are at peace, my beautiful boy. I miss you with every fiber of my being.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Oscar
I thought I'd take the time tonight to share some things with you that piss me off. I'm doing this because, well, instead of going off on someone. Enjoy!
Doctors - So really it's no secret that I'm not a fan of doctors. You may not know that but that's just because I haven't told you, not because it's a secret. But really I'm not anti-doctor as much as I am anti-stupidity. I have found that MOST doctors will tell you what they think you want to hear, or what they want you to hear rather than the truth. They go to school for many years and pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to become liars, stupid liars at that.
Spam - I really really hate spam. Of the mail variety not the canned meat. That kind of spam rocks my socks off. What? Various animal parts minced together in a can doesn't do it for you? Oh, well.
Judgement of any form - I really cannot stand for people to think they are better than other people. Don't point fingers at other people when you are just like they are, only worse. Because at least they don't lie about who they are. Even worse, don't do this under the guise of righteousness.
Sharing milk - on cereal, in a glass, ice cream, whatever. Everybody in my family knows if they want milk they can just take a drink of mine and the rest of the glass is theirs. Disgusting.
Having to look things up, because I really do think I should know everything.
The word "booze".
Twisty ties.
Bratty kids.
People who call my kids bratty.
Mispronunciation. Yes this from the one who said vine-yard.
Sheep. Why? Because I'm not a sheep.
Doctors - So really it's no secret that I'm not a fan of doctors. You may not know that but that's just because I haven't told you, not because it's a secret. But really I'm not anti-doctor as much as I am anti-stupidity. I have found that MOST doctors will tell you what they think you want to hear, or what they want you to hear rather than the truth. They go to school for many years and pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to become liars, stupid liars at that.
Spam - I really really hate spam. Of the mail variety not the canned meat. That kind of spam rocks my socks off. What? Various animal parts minced together in a can doesn't do it for you? Oh, well.
Judgement of any form - I really cannot stand for people to think they are better than other people. Don't point fingers at other people when you are just like they are, only worse. Because at least they don't lie about who they are. Even worse, don't do this under the guise of righteousness.
Sharing milk - on cereal, in a glass, ice cream, whatever. Everybody in my family knows if they want milk they can just take a drink of mine and the rest of the glass is theirs. Disgusting.
Having to look things up, because I really do think I should know everything.
The word "booze".
Twisty ties.
Bratty kids.
People who call my kids bratty.
Mispronunciation. Yes this from the one who said vine-yard.
Sheep. Why? Because I'm not a sheep.
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