First Born

Recently I was asked by my now 30 year old Son, Joshua, to share the story of his birth day.

And so here it is.

Oh if only I had known then what I know now!!

The following is a copy of the birth journey I wrote out shortly after he was born. 

So interesting to see what I thought was/had happened back then.

Original estimated due date was February 25

Wednesday March 2nd

Today I am Mom. 

Joshua's Mom

How strange it seems to all of a sudden have this baby, after so much preparation and waiting. 

Finally he's here and it's not at all anything I expected, yet everything and more. 

I know now that this is the best thing I have ever done - the only real thing I will ever accomplish - 

giving life to another human being - my own flesh and blood from my body and soul.

It's all so overwhelming it's hard to know what to feel (Full EMOTIONAL epidural!)

My beautiful baby boy forever, how can anyone not love this child, how could anyone not love the life they produce?

Recap of how Josh and I got from there to here:

I spent all of last week in prodromal labour off and on. Completely stressful and exhausting. 

I think too much anticipation was built up to his birth.

But how can that be avoided really!? Anyways it was enough stress to cause my psoriasis to act up

All over my stretch marks - Ouch!

Sunday I spent the day in some of the worst pain ever. It was quite odd because I had what felt like a pulled muscle, except intensified a million times on my left side, kidney area.

And I had contractions.  Really just tightenings of the uterus every 20 minutes, which made the pain almost unbearable. Along with this I could not keep down anything but liquids - water actually.

Throwing up as I did several times was not fun. My sister spent the evening with me, and I finally managed to keep down a bowl of her mashed potatoes and some gingerale. 

The pain finally seemed to abate to a dull ache, and the contractions died off. 

I awoke Monday feeling quite well - a little battle weary but much improved. I chalked it up to food poisoning and had a fairly active day: baked 2 pumpkin pies, made dinner, walked Sarah to school and picked her up, etc. I stayed up all evening with a friend and finally went to bed at around 10:30 pm. Tired, but fine. 

I awoke at 12:30 am with cramping, but it was not contracting. Also the baby was moving psychotically. It was enough that I got up and played Nintendo (Dr. Mario) for about an hour or so. Things seemed to settle down and I went back to bed. I was awoken at 4:30 am with that same horrible pain on the left side. I did not seem to be having the same type of contractions as before, not as intense but a little bit. And the pain was constant. Also, I at that time, threw up. Except there was nothing for me to throw up. So it was basically wrenching.

The day progressed this way. I threw up nothing about five times by 2pm. The pain never really abated and I felt worse and worse. Mom who was at the school called me every hour or so to check on my condition. The fact that this pain was in the kidney area really concerned her - no shock there.

Finally at 2pm she put her foot down and took me to St. Boniface hospital, just to have it looked at. I, as usual when it comes to things medical had been resisting, but was relieved she had insisted, as I was also beginning to worry something was "wrong".  The only thing I would have liked first was help with having a bath - I should have known!

Anyhow, I was admitted to labour assessment, My OB was on the floor, so she heard my story, checked me out, announced that I was 1 cm dilated and broke my waters, all in one breath practically. The OB said that the pains etc were just early labour and I guess felt the situation was ready for birthing, as I was 4 days past my estimated due date. It was quite a shock to have my waters broken like that, she didn't ask me, she just did it, and I don't think either Mom or I were prepared for that decision. I hadn't even brought my birth bag! 

Anyways, the floodgates having been let loose, things had nowhere to go but onward! So I started pacing the halls with  mom, water gushing everywhere all the time. My sister came at some point and walked with us, but they only allowed one support person, unless you get the birthing room, which is unlikely for first timers. So she went home, but left the electronic poker game for me to play with!

Another woman was put into my labour room, to share - Violet. the Nurse watched us both. I had contractions but very irregular, and certainly not strong enough. For whatever reason, the labour just did not want to get going with me. So at 8pm the OB checked me again, I was only about 2 cm after all that, so she put me on the drip - synthetic hormones. They also hooked me up to IV fluids since I was dehydrated when I arrived at the hospital. In fact I had begun to have ketones in my urine, which means my body was starting to expel necessary nutrients because it was so dehydrated. 

They started the drip at 8pm and that gave me regular and real contractions. At some point I sat up for the contractions, and I stayed up from then on as it seemed easier to me to get through them. However they were still pretty hideous, plus I was really tired. In fact it got to the point where I could barely stay conscious in between contractions, which is actually pretty funny considering there wasn't much of an in between. Anyways I went on like this for six hours. 

The nurse's shift ended and the new Nurse, Esther came on shift at about 11:30pm. She moved me over to my own room and spent the next few hours helping us get through. From the time that I was put on the drip the OB had left a standing order allowing me either Demerol or an epidural. Everyone involved offered these things to me and at some point they started to encourage me to take some help because they did not think that I was going to make it on my own. The Nurse kept telling me I needed to take something. It was a hard decision for me because I tend to be so self-sufficient. Also, I've always been a big advocator of 'natural childbirth'

Anyhow after 12 hours of this, and being 4 cm, I finally gave in and asked the Nurse what my options were and since she explained to me that Demerol was a blood agent, I opted for the epidural which works on the nervous system. I've always had problems with drugs that go into the blood so I didn't think it was worth the trouble. However I had no idea what was involved with an epidural! What a joke to have someone poking you in the spine and saying "don't move till I'm done!" Like it's so easy to stay relaxed and still during a contraction! Anyhow I got through it. And then the bliss. What a relief to have everything dulled. In fact I kind of woke up a bit with the pressure off and sat up and started to chit chat, which Mom thought was hilarious.  Then I tried to rest for a half hour or so.

I guess it was about 430 am or so when the Nurse told us it was time to push this baby out. Let me just say labour is nothing next to pushing! I don't know why everyone talks about the contractions when it's the pushing that is the most intense. Mom and the Nurse were starting to get worried because they felt I was doing a swell job with pushing yet not providing the appropriate results. 

It seemed to me they were saying they could see him for a long time. But he wasn't coming out the way he should. By the time they got me into the delivery room I was starting to fade. I just didn't think I could do it. My OB came and checked me out, and found that the little rascal had his head turned sideways. In fact she was surprised I had gotten him as far down the birth canal as I had.

Anyways, she had to push him back up and swing his head around. I think that truly was the most painful few minutes of my life. I had to tell myself I couldn't rip out her eyes because she was helping! 

At any rate soon after that, out he popped. Once his big head was out, it was a wonderful feeling to have everything else slide out.  I don't think I've ever been as dazed or happy as when they gave him to me to hold. That first meeting with your new child is such a wonder and miracle. Everything and anything is worth THAT!

So they cleaned him up, then me, and whisked us off to the recovery room. We stayed together there for a while, myself just in amazement over this small wonder, and poor Mom looking exhausted.

Eventually Mom left and Joshua was taken to the Nursery. Soon my sister came by to visit, but she mainly wanted to see Joshua who was still in the Nursery so she went and hounded the Nurses to bring him back to us! 

Joshua was born at 5:12 am, weighed 8lbs, 8 oz and was 21 1/2 inches long. His apgars were 9 and 9

Labour was 15 hours long from the time of waters being broken, and pushing time was 45 minutes of that.

While I would take a different approach to this birth now, I will always be grateful for the end result!

Being Mama to this amazing human has been the greatest gift. Observing him grow and develop into the wonderful human he is today warms my heart in a way that can not be put into words.

10 Years

All day yesterday I was aware of today. But when I woke up this morning, it took me a few hours to make the connection between my odd dream and the date.

In the dream my mom and I were wandering around a food court, that seemed to be outdoors, but then was indoors and more like a restaurant. But then backgrounds are always fluid in my dreams.

I was in line, and had just chosen what I wanted to eat, when suddenly I realized I was in labour.  

I didn't appear to be pregnant, and in real life I am not pregnant. But in the dream I was definitely in early labour.  I turned to tell my mom this, and who do I see a few people behind us in line?  Well my doula partner of course!  My mom said something about calling her over, and the rest of the dream is fuzzy and nonsensical.

I woke up feeling very confused as to why I would be in labour.  
It was only a few hours later, when I was thinking about the significance of the day, that I remembered that I was pregnant on this day, ten years ago.

I was pregnant, it was the holidays and my sister was in Thailand.
She had gone there to have a pause in her life, to take stock.  What she got was a tsunami.  

Our family huddled together, grasping at any piece of media we could, to try and understand what was happening.  Vanessa had managed to email us to let us know she was ok, but was stuck without her passport, which had for some reason been somewhere else at the time of the tsunami.
It was not a good feeling being so far away from her and not really knowing what was happening.
Helplessness.

Over the weeks and months that followed we got a clearer picture of her experience, and how it had affected her.  How it had altered her.  But it wasn't until 18 months later, to the day, that we really began to understand the depth to which this event on the other side of the world had in fact changed all of our lives permanently.
That was the day of her first awake hallucination.  She was taking a walk in a park and then suddenly she was by a river and a sea monster was coming up at her.  It was looking for her, it was hunting her.
She couldn't discern the line between reality and the images she was seeing.

Shortly after this experience she got herself to a clinic and began the process of trying to get help to repair the damage done to her brain when she saw that wave coming at her.
The damage done when she clung to the side of a cliff wondering if she had scrambled up high enough.
The damage done when she saw people in the water disappear, knowing it could have been her.
And the damage done because she survived.
Why her?  She would ask this over and over again in the years that followed.

In the end she didn't find the help she wanted, and chose to end her mental anguish by ending her life.  It took her 7 years and almost 4 months to get to that place.  We know it was a decision fraught with confusion and pain, we know she thought there was no other way.

For those of us left behind, who loved her, the anguish hasn't ended, maybe it never will.
I don't know if there is an end date for grief, can there be?

But I know the day it began.
It began today, ten years ago, on a beach, on Ko Poda, off the coast of Thailand.

                    

Daddy's girl

As a little girl I was fortunate enough to have a fully present and participating dad. He was the dad that changed diapers, and played with his kids. he didnt just read stories to us, he spun tales for us that were all our own. I will always remember the exciting adventures of Fingers, the little boy whose fingers could grow and stretch to grasp items out of reach, oh the mischief he got into. He helped us build forts, he played marbles with us, hide and seek, croquet and endless monopoly. We went camping, and were taught how to make a fire, use an axe, paddle a canoe. He quizzed us on the names of the countries of the world and their capital cities, telling us of the larger world out there, giving us a thirst for adventure and travel. When I was still quite young he would take us on a drive to some part of the city that was not familiar and then say "ok, get us home!" Then he would drive the car wherever we said until we found our way home. This was one of my favourite games, and I'm sure it's why I rarely feel lost. I have always known I could find my way home if I needed to.

He made me feel secure and certain that he would always protect me. Walking down the street together one day, as we passed by the house with the scary dog, (you know the one in every childhood, the one on a short and incredibly thick chain? The one that barked at anyone within a few houses radius with such a menace that you felt chilled? The one called King, who it was rumoured had attacked someone once?), sensing my terror, dad reassured me that the dog was secure. When I questioned that and asked what if he broke that chain, he matter of factly told me he knew how to kill a wild animal with his bare hands and would do so if need be. He grew up on a farm in Africa, so that was plausible, and I believed him. 

All along the way, he taught me to think. Never was I able to get away with anything without having to come up with a reason why. He challenged my reasoning, questioned my logic and gently coached me into a big picture way of viewing every situation. The ever popular answer "just because" was unacceptable. Early on I realized that I was the one choosing the outcomes in my life because he made me reflect on and explain the actions that led to those outcomes. 

He never ever raised his voice, and yet we all had a healthy respect for him and a desire to make him proud. His disappointment was a much harder pill to swallow than his anger ever would have been.

As a young woman I worked with my dad and had the opportunity to develop a grown up relationship with him. We didn't always see eye to eye, but we knew how to work out our differing viewpoints and successfully ran several businesses together for nearly two decades. He taught me how to be responsible and self sustaining, by giving me responsibility and autonomy. When I was 18 he put me in charge of a small distributorship enterprise, including the finances. I quickly learned the value of turning a profit, if I were ever to extract a pay cheque. I also learned first hand the difference between being paid for my time, and being paid for my effort. We traveled together as a family and as business partners, always with an air of adventure about us. With my dad around, there was, and still is, always something to learn, to discover.

Now he is the Papa to my two children, and he takes this just as seriously as he did being my father. He still plays croquet and tells stories of the 60's to my music loving son. He has taken him on adventures and taught him how to fix things, how to work and how to learn. They too have played and worked together, in much the same fashion as we did. He even watches YTV with my daughter, which is no small sacrifice when you are in your 60's!

I can't imagine my life, and the lives of my children, without this man. 

For me, every day is Father's Day.

Special delivery

Every birth I attend is special, every journey to delivery is filled with moments that fix themselves in my being. Whenever I am included in the path to parenthood, I feel honoured and privileged.

When someone hires me to be to be their support person, their "insurance policy", we usually start out as strangers, or at the most acquaintances. Over the course of the pregnancy, we get to know each other, sometimes personally, but primarily in relationship to all things birth. It is usually post birth that the broader relationship is formed, if there is to be one that goes beyond doula and babymaker.

When a friend invites me into this intimate and momentous time, the knowing is already there, and the special becomes especially special.

This just happened to me. In a wonderful and amazing way. A woman I adore, whom I respect, and who has been a source of both strength and soft for me this past three years, invited me into this most precious space. (Well, actually her husband did, but she agreed!)
What a privilege! My heart was filled with joy to be a part of this, and that joy overflowed during this journey.
There were moments we will always remember, moments to laugh about, moments to shake our heads at. We will hold those moments for each other, for this brand new life, always. It was tricky at times to juggle being the doula, and the friend. The line was blurry at best. She knew when I was "up to something", and told me so, I cried when her daughter was born... Blurry at best.

I knew she was strong, I knew that things matter to her, it's why I like her, it's why I respect her. However, it is one thing to know a thing, quite another to see it happening. She had a long labour, many parts were challenging, she never lost her center, she kept her humour, she did what she needed to do. Her husband walked every step with her, he held her, he breathed with her, he was there.
They were incredible, I am so proud of them.

My littlest heart

Valentine's day has never really turned my crank. Oh sure I loved those little cards when I was small, seeing my school mailbox overflowing was a thrill! I would savour each and every one. Read them and look for the deeper meaning, delight in all the love and affection.

Then I was older and saw the paper waste and observed the twist of the heart for those victimized by singlehood on the day of the couple. My rant would include commentary on how this was a "made up" holiday, entirely for the purpose of filling the commercial gap between Christmas and Easter. I was angry on behalf of my girlfriends who were desperately single and felt the full force of a false type of lonely on this day of hearts.

Older still, I felt some disdain for a holiday that capitalized on such a powerful emotion, while allowing the most dysfunctional lover to feel they could balance out a year of ineptness in a single day. Every day should be a day to show love and affection. We should be aware of our gratitude and express it without prompting.

With more time, I have softened and yielded to a place where I can be happy for those who enjoy the fun of heart day, while being impervious to its dark side. I can "like" the sweet comments posted by those in the throws of fresh love, and feel moved by the inevitable heartbreaker story of a timeless and enduring love, that gets circulated through the social networks. All the while being unaffected if there doesn't happen to be a valentine with my name on it in my mailbox.

This year, we woke up late and I needed to get my little miss to get on the move. I hate to wake her up harshly, so I stroked her tiny little face and whispered "are you going to wake up?". After a few moments of this, she stretched out a little arm, and with a sleepy yawn she said " happy valentines day mom", without opening her eyes, she curled right back into a sweet little ball and continued sleeping.

Heart melting, I think to myself, well isn't this the best valentines ever?

I should be napping

There are more babies coming.... I should be napping. It's hard to do during the day, especially with the anticipation of THE call. I lay down, and as my body relaxes, my brain wanders into all sorts of corners.

Today I have been providing text support to two labouring mamas, and eventually ended up in triage with one of them, it was too soon, so she and her hubby and her belly full of baby went home to try and get into a workable rhythm. I turned away from them to leave and there was the client who had her baby yesterday! I had provided phone support to her over the course of her labour on Friday, then one of my doula partners supported her during the actual delivery Saturday. How lucky to run into them on their way home. We chatted for a bit about their experience, hugged and off they went, as did I.

Once home, I got a batch of granola going, while cleaning up the kitchen and watching Damages on Netflix. I don't consider myself particularly domestic, but I always seem to do domesticy type things when "in labour wait". After a call from the husband, (always a good sign), during which we agreed she should have a bath and then they would call me again in an hour or so, I knew it was time to nap for real.

Laying here, thinking about all the babies born this week (four!) and the two on their way, it occurs to me, not for the first time, that this is my life. I am a doula. I know this, it's been this way for awhile now, and yet somehow it still stops me up every now and again when I think it. Five years ago I was not a doula and there was no way I could have led this lifestyle. I wanted it, but I wasn't even close to it. Now I am it.

While I was thinking about how weird it is is that I am a doula, it crosses my mind that it is even weirder that I still don't always feel the title. Then I started thinking about how I have been a mom for almost half my life (!) and I still don't always feel the mom title either.... Maybe I have a problem with labels? Titles? Hmmmm

Oh there is that text! The one I knew was coming. I should have been napping ;)

love at first sight

Lately, I seem to be spending my Sunday afternoons meeting with babymakers.  Definitely a lovely way to spend a Sunday as these are some of my favourite people :)

Today, during one such meet up, I found myself giving the 'love at first sight' speech. (lucky for me, I was singing to the choir!) Often new parents, or about to be new parents, are advised, by well-intentioned friends and family, to avoid letting baby 'run their lives'.  "Don't adjust your schedule", "Don't cater to the baby", "Don't let the baby be in charge".  

This sort of talk kind of makes me crazy.  Just a little.  Here's my reply in short;

When a human being (not a baby by the way, a whole entire human being, who will grow up to be an adult, just. like. you.) is born, he/she is born with a brain that is about 25% of it's potential adult size. Compare this to most other mammals that are born with brain sizes of 60-90% of their adult brain size.  What is this 25% doing?  

Surviving.  That's it.  

A baby is not born with some evil plot to come along and change your world, or some devilish desire to piss you off.  It's learning how to see, smell, move it's limbs.  Basic stuff.  A baby that needs to eat or be cleaned, or be rocked to sleep in the manner to which it has been accustomed for nine months, is not trying to 'be in charge'. 

It's surviving. 

If a baby is crying, it needs something.  That is all. So when we bend ourselves to answer that need, we are not being 'controlled', we are parenting.  When we choose not to answer the needs of our babies, we don't 'win' some power struggle between ourselves and our child.  We only let them know that we can't be relied upon, that we may not answer when they need us.  Do this enough times and their tiny little brains will take note of THAT.  There is no power struggle to be had with an infant, it doesn't have the capacity for some complicated emotional battle.  It's too busy surviving. Breathing.   

And if that line of thinking isn't enough to squash the fear of being controlled by an infant, think about this:  When we meet our newborn for the first time, we fall in love.  We fall in love like no other time that we fall in love. (oh I know that there are bunches of people out there who are saying 'nope not me, I didn't get that ooey-gooey feeling.  I'm not talking about that)  

Define love however you like, whatever your definition of love is, that happens when you meet that newly born offspring of yours.  On sight.  Sure some of that is all the yummy oxytocin swimming around in your body, some of that is a basic instinct to protect our own.  Some of it is something we probably can't/don't need to define.  Whatever it is, however it looks, from the moment that person is born, we would throw ourselves in front of a bus to save it's life, we feel compelled to create a perfect space for this being. 

Think about any other time you have fallen in love.  What does the typical new love look like?  Do we not adjust ourselves?  Change our schedules, bend and move to the needs of the other?  Find compromise and concession for each other?  Is it with begrudging? Or is it with joy and excitement? 

When we fall in love any other time, we want to spend all our time with that person, learn all about them, discover them.  We, for sure, 'cater' to them and let that really powerful and delightful feeling of love 'control' us.  Why wouldn't we?  What the heck are we all doing here anyhow, if not loving each other?  

Why would it be any different when we fall in love with this amazing new person 

that we have created? 

Go ahead and love your kid, says I.  Pick them up, love them and joyfully adjust yourself to be able to meet their needs.  Change your schedule, give some things up, take some new things on. Adding a whole new person into your life isn't something that needs to be managed or controlled, it's a time for growing and for exploring places you've never gone before.  

Do it with wild abandon and enjoy the ride!

for these things....

for these things I am grateful:

the Universe and her infinite wisdom

oxygen and the ability to breathe it, deeply and slowly

love and the capacity to dwell in it, roll around in it, believe in it, and give it

my children and the soul filling  joy those two entities bring to me

parents; mine, being one & being witness to it's birth

friends; all of them and the unique way each one touches me, 
makes and shapes me

location; awaking daily in a land of grace, beauty and freedom

learning and that I have the luxury to spend time at it

work; and that I never feel like I am 'at' it

the path so far, even the rocky bits, the twisted parts, the foggy patches.

All of it.


these things I am grateful for, today and everyday....

200 Hours

Six weeks into my final term of this 2 year remedial massage therapy program, (at the Massage Therapy College of Manitoba) and I have completed the required 200 hours of practice time!  Yay.  Of course I will continue to practice, (otherwise how can I expect to pass all these exams?) but it's nice to have the 200 behind me.  In addition to this 200 hours of both supervised and unsupervised, (but in school) practice time, we also work our way through four rounds of clinic, three different outreach programs, at least two events, a thirty hour (or more) practicum and a ten hour case study.  This adds up to an additional 200 hours of massage time with the general public. Four hundred massages and counting. Wow hey?!?

An intense two years to be sure, but well worth it as we end up feeling confident and comfortable in assessing and treating musculoskeletal based concerns by the time we graduate.  Good news for the graduate, Great news for the public ;)  It is astounding how much there is to learn about the body, astounding.  Daily I am blown away.  Why we spend any time looking for aliens or any other spacial bodies, is beyond me, considering what we have yet to learn about our own beings.  

I have been entranced by the human body, it's structure and function over these past almost two years.  Granted, I came into this with very little knowledge of anatomy and physiology, having always just accepted and believed that bodies work.  What little I did have going for me, centered almost entirely around the process of childbearing and delivery, and even that was less text bound and more experiential.  One day in my freshman term, I met my radius.  I was captivated.  Never in all the time I had been alive (and it feels like it's been awhile now haha), had I thought to wonder how it is that my forearm can pivot like it does.  It's actually an amazing little bit of machinery we have there.  Did you know that the ulna doesn't move, and the radius does all the dancing about?  Go ahead feel your bones ;)  There is a special ligament, positioned ever so cleverly, that allows free spinning of the radial head to accommodate that fancy twisting we do with our forearms. Good thing too, cause if we only had anatomical positioning (palms up folks), there would be no keyboarding!  It was during freshman term that I realized I am a bit of a bone junkie.... the skeleton is just the ultimate puzzle! (and if you know me, you know I love puzzles)

That same term we had to learn all sorts of interesting things about the way the body works, aka: physiology.  One of my favourite aspects of this learning, was and is the sheer beauty of the way we are.  There is gorgeousness to be found in the design and symmetry all throughout our beings, down to the cellular level.  During our study of how red blood cells are transported around (limited learning I might add, this is just to give us a basic understanding of what is happening inside), I discovered the following factoid in my A& P text:

      "Hemoglobin is made up of the protein globin bound to the red heme pigment.  Each heme group bears an atom of iron set like a jewel in its center.  A hemoglobin molecule can transport four molecules of oxygen.  A single red blood cell contains about 250 million hemoglobin molecules, so each of these tiny cells can scoop up about 1 billion molecules of oxygen!" (do I need to officially reference my textbook in my in my blog? Human Anatomy & Physiology-Marieb & Hoehn)

Did you catch that?  We have jewels in our core and we are moving around trillions of molecules of oxygen with every breath we take. (breathing... a whole other subject of import) The average red blood cell takes about 60 seconds to complete a circuit, the circulatory system, you know our whole body.

60 seconds.  Trillions.  Astounding.

These are just a couple of the cool things I have discovered in the hours and hours of sitting at a table, wait until you hear about the stuff I have learned while working at the table for the last 400 hours :)

Trails!

"Come on kids, let's go on an Adventure!"  exciting words :)  Every now and then I will pack up the kids and off we go, spontaneously and randomly.  They love it.  This was the biggest 'adventure' we've done to date.  I had been kicking around the idea of going somewhere for an overnight on the long weekend for a few days.  I mentioned to my mom that I might see if there were any available rooms in Riding Mountain National Park. I've always wanted to go.  She seemed interested in coming as well.  Saturday morning she called and pointed out that it was pretty grey out and rain was predicted.  I was fairly tired from having stayed up WAY too late on Skype with a buddy. I had not told the kids anything specific, although Josh knew we were possibly doing 'something'.  I paused.
Then I decided to just call and see if I could find a room.  The girl who answered at the first place I called, Clear Lake Lodge, said in a surprised voice "yes we do have one room available"

:)

And so it was to be.  We packed up overnight bags, I LEFT (brace yourself, this is shocking!) the dishes in the sink and we headed off.  Ok, it might not have been quite that efficient, but we did do those things.  We stopped at Safeway and I grabbed a bunch of picnic type food, we gassed up and then we were off.  As soon as I said we were going on an overnight adventure, Emily wanted to know where we were going, but when I asked Josh if he wanted to know, he said "no".  That about sums up the difference between my two children ;)

I wanted to play Willie Nelson's "on the road again", as that is the song that always runs through my brain when heading out on a road trip, thanks to the countless road trips of my youth and my parent's habit of popping that TAPE (heck I remember when they played 8 tracks! ahhhh) in at the outset each and every time.  We would be singing the chorus before we reach the end of our street!  Alas, I do not have that particular song on CD, something to work on before the next road trip adventure.  After almost 3 hours of driving, and only one pit stop (at a CO-OP that is NOT Red River CO-OP sheesh), we arrived at the gates of Riding Mountain National Park.  We found our Lodge, checked in, got the grand tour and decided to head out for a walk about town.  It was very windy, and we even got a little bit sprinkled on at the end of the stroll, but what an incredibly cute little place!  We walked out to end of the pier, saw two bride and groom pairs being photographed, observed several people fishing off the end of the pier and unfortunately stumbled across a dead pelican on the beach.  We found the Visitor Center, which was really good as I picked up the Xplore booklet, which lead to all sorts of fun the following day.

Week One of Twenty

It's late August, the kids are still enjoying summer vacation, the city still feels hazy and lazy, but a few of us are back in full swing!  This was the first week of my final term of a very long two year program, the goal of which is to produce viable remedial massage therapists.

What a full and exciting week it has been!  I attended the last of my 'summer babies' birth on Saturday, arriving home just 24 hours before I was due to be at a sporting event as a therapist.  Incredible timing.  The event was a marathon in Lockport, we had a tent set up by the river, and ended up working with a fantastic physiotherapist who works out of a Stonewall clinic. The four of us were in a really nice rhythm with each other, had a happy little vibe going on. The physiotherapist was happy enough with our work that she invited us to come work with her team at the MS Biking to the Viking event this weekend coming up!
Great opportunity, nice connection.  It all came together very easily, as I have noticed the best things seem to do.  

Then Monday, back in class and right to it! We spent this week on the hip, reviewing, learning and working on new stuff.  Psoas Release anyone?  How about those Glut muscles? Done and Done.  Seems to me that Gluteus Medius needs more attention than it gets. Our instructor showed us a simple and useful way to strengthen this important and undervalued muscle.  I'll see what I can do about making some sort of a clear diagram or written description in a later post.

We also had Remedial Exercise class, which looks like it is going to live up to my expectations.  Yay!  I am glad to hear we are starting with a focus on flexibility.  He also laid out the Fitness principles for us in a really clear way, definitely post worthy as well ;)  Principles that have application on a broad level.  So  much of what was discussed has direct application to the process of childbirth and I appreciate that sort of connectivity.  

This whole week has felt like one 'yes' marker after another, in terms of the Universe giving me a nod that I'm facing the right way. Moment after moment just clicked into place, perfect connections at perfect times, words being said that had just been said. (unbeknownst to the second sayer).  It felt like everything was a yes this week.  Even the hard stuff, was hard with a positive and attainable conclusion.

Odd little connections too.  Emily is in drama camp this week, and she is playing princess Echo.  A greek nymph, from whom we got the echo found in the hills.  One of the very few baby girls I witnessed being born this summer?  Named Echo.  Never had I heard that name before, now my daughter is that character... odd. Lots of little markers like that.

As I was walking in to class this morning, I passed by the building that appears to house a bunch of women who are coping with either emotional or mental challenges (or both) of some kind.  Usually one or two will ask for change and another one or two will wave or say hi, or want to have a fairly non sensical, but non threatening chat.  This morning there was one lady sitting out front, with a big grin on her face, she called out a  cheerful 'hello' and I sang it back to her.  She grinned even more, so did I.  And I thought to myself;
"it doesn't have to be hard, in fact, I don't think it's supposed to be.  So many people 'endure' life and all it's                challenges.   Fighting to get through each day, and wearing that survival as success.  Really though, if we just  allow life to happen, flow with our own current instead of trying to manage our path, there is no fighting or surviving.  There is instead living."
Something like that.  Here is this woman, in a situation most people would think devastating, and yet she had a bigger, more genuine smile on her face, in response to a hello, than most of the people I see on the street rushing about 'living'.  Always, it's what you choose.

Then during our business class, our instructor said "the more that we make sure everyone around us is okay and taken care of, the more we will be ok and taken care of"  Bingo!  Just be our most awesome selves, take good care of our fellow humans, and live our lives.  Fully and with Joy.  It was a good class, I'm looking forward to more.

Then there was clinic.  My first client?  A guy named Ed, who was eager to chat.  What did we chat about?  Well health and health care of course, as is almost always the case in clinic.  Turns out his daughter is an RN.... in one of the maternity wards in town.  Of course.  I didn't pursue trying to figure out who she was exactly, it doesn't matter, just that was enough. If she happened to be one of the many nurses I worked with over the summer, it would not be any more significant.  The point being made to me is that I am facing the right direction..... good enough for me!

eleven eleven

This morning my little girl and I were hanging out in our favourite place, bed!  We were having some cuddle time, some play time and some chat time.  She noted the time, according to the digital clock, as she was very preoccupied with getting to the park at a specific time, to meet her friend.  That led to a comment about how funny it would be when the clock said 7 11! Then she made a knock knock joke out of it.  Which happens a lot these days.  It made as little sense as most of them do.

So then I told her that when it was 11 11, she could make a wish! That little bit of information led to the following delightful conversation.

"you can make a wish too!  then we will have two wishes"

I certainly can

"I know what I'm going to wish for, do you?" slight pause "I can tell you what I'm going to wish for because you probably already know, so it's ok!"

yes it's ok

"I would wish for it to be 12 after 2 so we could go to the park" (except of course she meant between 12 and 2, since that is when her friend was due to be at the park, between.  She had it a bit jumbled)

That's a good wish.  I know you are excited. (and for the record, even though I ended up at a birth, her most awesome brother did take her to the park around noon and they were still there when I got home)

"I have a good idea mom!  when I am done school I can have a store!  I can call it 11 11 and people can come and buy wish things"

that is an excellent idea, what would they be able to buy?

eyes wide and sparkling "oh! wishing things!"

(I can see I need to help), like fairy dust?

"OH Yes! fairy dust"

and unicorns?

"Yes, but not real ones, just stuffies"

definitely not real ones, and 4 leaf clovers?

"4 leaf clovers!, but they are hard to find, so we might have to make them.  And those white dandelions that are fluffy.  I would have to be very careful getting them to the store (puts her little hand around the pretend dandelion she is holding). OH and clocks, when I am all done school I will get all the clocks and have them at my store.  And I will give the clocks away for free, so that anytime a person wants to make a wish, they can wish on 11 11 and then they will want to come to my store and buy more wishes!"

WHAT?  has my 6 year old just come up with a marketing plan?  That involves a lost leader concept?  is she actually going to rule the world one day?  :)  Love it.

We babble on about the limitless possibilites of a store called 11 11 and then she decides it's high time we got up and made cookies, or woke up her brother or you know, something!!

So if you ever come across a store called 11 11 (you know in about 12 years, because she does plan on finishing high school before starting her empire), be sure to stop in and say hi to the little girl who believes in fairy dust and fluffy dandelions <3

I believe in people

Someone said this to me recently and my heart hoorahed with joyful agreement. What a beautiful and simple way to sum up the essence of everything I feel and think. I have always described myself as a 'believer'. Sometimes idealistically so and occasionally to my detriment. But always quite firmly.

This way of expressing that believing, those two little words tacked on 'in people', is the rest. It fleshes out that description perfectly. I do believe in other things, the earth and her mother, the universe and her karmic wisdom, the sense and order of all things living, but it's humanity that captures me. The power and fragility of the human spirit. The strength of thought, the weakness of love, and vice versa.

I am so very fortunate to be able to see up close how people can be believed in. Both during the birth of a new human and now too during the reconnection of body and spirit in a person striving to find health and balance. Time and again I am astounded at how worthy people are of my belief.

I prance about saying, a little cheekily, 'anything and everything is possible'. Not so secretly, I believe this to be true. Can't you see it in the steps you've taken? The path you've walked? Who hasn't found themselves, at some point, needing to believe? Relying on whatever faith it is that they have, in whatever it is they believe.

Even when a person runs out of faith, has nothing left, there is always a glimmer somewhere in the rubble. There is always a way.
One only has to believe.

I miss eggplant!

I am eyeball deep in studying, trying desperately to catch up on long overdue 'projects', balancing solo parenting with me-ness and ALL that... so of course I have a wild dream about eggplant!

What else? haha

There I am sound asleep, dreaming in full colour, something I don't recall doing much of in the last few years, and what is it I recall when I awake?

Somewhere in my dream I ended up at the grocery store, a dimly lit, almost lounge like grocery store. I am wandering the aisles when I run into a woman named Oxana, who is shopping in her nightgown, hair tangled, harassed and frantic looking.

She is a new mom, she is my client. We are happy to see each other and begin pushing our carts in the same direction. She tells me rapidly and somewhat covertly, that there is a woman pursuing her.

Oh! and there is that woman now.... a squat and somewhat sinister looking person, with wisps of wirey grey hair escaping her babushka (I'm not saying she is Russian, it's just the only word I know to describe that handkerchief type of hair holder), she is watching us intently. We duck down an aisle and then round out to the produce section.

This is where it gets interesting... and odd, and funny. Are you paying attention?

We find ourselves at a massive display (actually two) of the largest looking eggplants I have ever seen. There is something odd about these eggplants though, they are sort of floppy and kind of bloated. When I pick one up, it's soft, but not in a squishy way, or an over-ripe way, rather it's more like how a blister feels. I don't know what to make of these eggplants, this can't be right, but oh I want one so bad. (there haven't been any eggplants for ages and I miss them terribly) I start systematically touching them, looking for one that feels as an eggplant should. What though of Oxana? I suddenly notice that she is plunging her hands into the eggplants! Literally ripping them open with her hands.

I look at her with a question in my face, she says "how else will we know if they are okay?"

Indeed.

Inside the eggplants it looks like there are little eggplant coloured hearts.. odd

And in my peripheral vision? Yeah that's right, the stalker woman...

Then I wake up.

Thank goodness right? I mean really, what is it all about? I have never known anyone named Oxana, where did that come from? Stalkers and eggplants with edema? Have I lost my subconscious mind?

Or maybe the message is; if you want to know if it's okay, just plunge your hands right in....

you decide

Having recently attended birth number 21, I am prompted to revisit 'the blog' :)

Every birth I attend brings as much to me (if not more), as I to it. The biggest gift I receive each and every time is the reminder that life is in and of itself, a gift. When I see a woman, having overcome odds that the majority of us can only discuss in philosophical terms, birthing her child with strength, realization, tears and determination, I am humbled. When I see a partner bend and stretch themselves to match that strength, fill the need, I am humbled.

Sometime in the last year, in the days following a very intense labour and birth experience, I was waiting at the corner of a busy intersection, chatting with someone from the college, when we were suddenly startled by a loud, long and angry honking. We looked in the direction of the noise and both realized we were witnessing... well, nothing.

Someone was having an enormously difficult time managing their patience in rush hour traffic and had decided to share it with everyone in the vicinity.

We both shook our heads, he said 'that was a rude honking',

I replied 'and unnecessary'. He agreed. I made the comment that it is hard for me to relate to that sort of reaction to traffic, considering what I see people overcome in birth.

He replied with 'I guess that would keep things in perspective! Life is relative'...

Life is relative. One of my favourite expressions. Every single thing, is relative.

Almost anything can be made to look less challenging when compared to something more challenging. And there is always something more challenging.

Dude having a melt down because of rush hour vs rape survivor joyfully birthing her baby.

not only is life relative, it's what you make it.

you decide.

if its meant to be...

I have spent a lot of my life time believing that, what is meant to be, will be. I still do. What has changed with time and living is HOW I believe those wistful words to work their magic.

At some point I guess I believed that the universe would magically take care of everything, do all the work. I thought that breathing was all that was required on my part. Showing up, and being open. Well I do still believe that it's important to breathe, show up and be open... But I've come to realize that a more active type of openness is required for optimum workingoutedness.

At some other point I constructed a beautiful theory about the universe's persistence in offering us THE path to peace and joy. I felt that if we came to a fork and chose the path that turned out to be rockier and somewhat more circuitous in nature, the universe would give us another chance, as it were. We would come to another fork, get another shot at making a more favourable choice. So in this theory I gave myself some element of choice and ownership, but ultimately the end result was out of my hands. The so called 'correct' path choice would keep appearing, until my thick-headed self had the lightbulb moment. I even had some fairly significant anecdotal experience and observation to support this theory. I liked this. I was the master of my own fate, but if I got it wrong, I got endless do-overs!

More recently it has occured to me that there is no such thing as THE path. That is far too easy. One can find oneself on a path that is not easy, and leads nowhere good, but it's not necessarily wrong. That is too simplistic. That is still removing the element of personal responsibility. The path is 'right' if we want to use simple terminology, if WE are right. It's how we choose to run the race, walk the path. That is the part that makes the difference. I have walked what appeared to be gracious and easy paths, but felt somehow lost. I have walked identifiably challenging roads and felt grand. What's the common factor? Me. It's about how I choose to walk.

Each choice we make, leads us somewhere. And all those somewheres offer us something. It's up to us to take the best or the worst of what there is to take. It's up to us to flow with the energies around us, perhaps flitting along and not having to walk at all.

I don't mean to eliminate fate entirely. I like the idea of fate, it's quite romantic, and oh so guilt free :) We can still have fate, but we shouldn't depend on it. Maybe we can work with it? Identify our 'fate' and go get it? Not forcibly, but gently and with intent.

A thing is meant to be if we choose it to be.

We can’t help who we love…..

Really? I know I’ve said this before to girlfriends feeling caught in an impossible relationship and unable to wrest themselves free. I’ve said it to myself for much the same reason. It’s easy, it absolves us of responsibility. But is it true? Just the other day it was said to me, in the form of an explanation, and it struck me, this is not true.

We CAN help who we love, we have free will, it is our choice. We may choose to love someone who is not treating us as they should, we may choose to forgive the flaws of those we choose to love, but we have choice.

The argument is that if we are madly attracted to, or impossibly connected to someone, we just can’t help ourselves but love them and then allow that which we would not allow. “I’ve loved this person for so long” or “they understand me like no other” or “this person loves me as I am” or “they just get me, I can tell them anything”… so on and so forth. And so thus it must be inescapable. It must be true. And so we overlook, work around and tolerate.

There is nothing wrong with overlooking and tolerating, in and of itself. But there is something dreadfully wrong with feeling we have no choice in the matter. If we choose to do these things and live contentedly with the results, that is one thing. But if we are helpless to our suffering, this is another. Everything always comes down to choice, autonomy.

Why would we choose to love someone who hurts us, again and again. The same hurt each time. Endlessly. Why would we do this? Would we stick our hand in a fire after once being burnt? Of course not, it makes no sense.

 Physically we learn from our mistakes, we have an instinct to survive. Where then is our heart’s instinct?

How can we ‘help’ ourselves choose who we love? Easily described, more challenging to accomplish. We do indeed need to help ourselves. If we create a strong and confident self, identify our worth, then we can trust our heart when it is 'swept away'. If we have love for ourselves, maybe then we won’t be madly attracted to that which will hurt us in the end.

Finding love for ourselves, delight in our strength, acceptance of our weakness, these are the things to focus on. These are the things that will help us help who we love. Love from strength, love without need. Helpful love, not a love of helplessness.

and so it begins

Does every blog begin with something along the lines of "this is a long time coming" or "I don't know why I haven't done this sooner" ?? Ok, so I'll skip that, but I probably should have started this blog a number of years ago when my journey began.... perhaps I did not know it was a beginning? At any rate today is a great day as it is the 21st anniversary of the very first time I saw a new life birthing into our realm. The life was my baby sister, and the experience impacted on me in a way that I could never have realized at the time.

Over the past 21 years I have done a number of things, travel, work, play and become a mother, twice. Even though I distinctly remember, at the birth of my youngest sister, looking around the delivery room moments after she was born and thinking, "wow these people have got it figured out, this is for sure the best job on the planet!", it took until almost 2 years after the birth of my second child, to find my way back to that moment.

It was then that I stumbled across the Doula training course and signed up primarily so that I would then qualify to volunteer at a home for mom's needing support during labour and delivery. I had no idea what I was signing on for. That was in 2007 and since that initial weekend, everything in my life has changed. Everything. 

 And it is good.