Why I am a doula

I have loved being a doula since I first took the course at Seattle Midwifery School. I can talk about birth for hours on end. I find incredible excitement and joy in being with women during this special time.

I have had a run of births, however, that has really made me question my "love". 4 births in a row. Each one, the mother was strong, prepared and incredibly knowledgable of exactly how to go about working with her body to birth her baby safely, smoothly and unmedicated. In each case, however, despite all of their preparation and hope, their births did not follow the path they had envisioned. All 4 women had OP babies (sunny side up, and the opposite of how baby SHOULD come out). 3 of the 4 women had their water break before labor started, and without labor starting within a day or so of their water breaking, which is a statistical anomaly. 3 of those 4 women labored for days and days, rocking and moaning and walking the halls before deciding for themselves that a Cesarean birth was the birth that was meant for their baby. The other woman was able to have her baby vaginally, but not until after a lot of work (literally 4 1/2 hours of pushing), vacuum and an episiotomy.

I was there for these women. I massaged their aching muscles, I mopped their brow with a cool cloth, I whispered encouraging words to them non-stop. I supported them, both physically and emotionally and gave them my all. When you serve someone, it's impossible to not grow close to them. Their dreams become my dreams. So when their dream must change, I mourn with them as they cry and weep over their change of plans. It's emotionally exhuasting to do that, time and time again.

By the fourth birth, I was at my limit. I literally wanted to run from the room screaming when it became apparent that this birth was following the trend of the last 3 births. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to be strong anymore. I wanted to run, and cry and scream and rip my hair out. I ached for the sweet and strong woman who had spent the last 8 hours at 9cm. I ached because I knew that I would have to be there to support her when she gave up her dream of a natural childbirth and tried to embrace her new birth path. I ached because I could only imagine the emotions that she was feeling.

But I didn't run. I smiled at her and cried with her and her husband. I reminded them of how strong she was and how this journey had proven what an amazing mother she would be. Afterwards, as I tried to process all of my raw emotions, a wonderful sister doula said to me, " Being a doula often asks us to dig down past the point when we have no more to give, and give some more. That is what we do. We hold out hope, we believe and we support and encourage, when others have "checked out" long ago! We are strong and enduring. Our clients deserve no less, and that is what we do. At every birth, despite how we feel inside, despite our past experiences, despite what might be happening in our personal life, despite circumstances that seem impossible. Despite other births we have recently attended. We are a constant! We look at every birth as a blank slate, with a story to be written. And sometimes it feels like we have read that story before! Yet, we show up to do it again, and watch another story unfold!"
Her words say everything that is in my heart when I doula a woman. I stayed with my client because I am a doula, and that's what doulas do.

I'm in love

Do you ever watch your children when they're sleeping and just fall in love? It is our nightly ritual to lay with our children for 2-3 minutes at bedtime. Last night I chose to stay a little longer because I just couldn't bear to unwrap my 3 year old's soft little arms from around my neck. She is a cuddler and loves to snuggle. As she was falling asleep I just watched her. Even now, the memory is bringing tears to my eyes.

I just studied her perfect, smooth skin, the beautiful curves of her face, her cheeks and that spectacular little nose of hers. I was filled with awe that this wonderful little human being was a product of me....of ME! How in the world did my husband and I create this little child, with her tiny little features and her immense personality? My heart swelled until my chest felt tight. I just couln't keep my eyes off of her. Her chubby little fingers were curled around my hand and for a few minutes, I knew I felt true love.

I mean, we all feel love. We love a lot of people. Sometimes we love so much we shout for joy or shed tears. But then there are the times when that love is so consuming you can hardly breathe. When you're not just feeling love, or thinking about it, but you are love. Every cell in your body vibrates with it. Those are the moments I wish we could feel more often. They say that God is Love. I wonder if He feels love that intensely for us, His children, all of the time? I wonder if I caught a glimpse of the magnitude of His love for us?

All I know is that children are a true gift from God. Especially when they are sleeping.

Finding service in our lives.

This is a serious post today, about something that I am passionate about.
Our church places a lot of emphasis on service. We go out of our way to plan service activities. We clean others homes, we tend their yards, we take people dinner after they've had a surgery, our youth collect items for needy families. We are service oriented to say the least.

How is it then, that the following scenario could possibly play out? A young mother gets up one Sunday morning and faces the daunting task of getting her 5 young children ready for church and getting them all out the door and to church on time. Her husband does not attend with her so she does this all by herself. She gets to church, and during sacrament meeting, her two youngest children start behaving badly. It's obvious she is struggling. The 3 year old boy is yelling and biting and throwing himself around. Feeding off his energy, the 18 month old begins to whine and try to espcape. Not a single person moved to help her. Instead, what she faced was a bunch of glares from people who have obviously forgotten what it's like to attend church with small children. Has it been so long that they've forgotten the constant battle to get littles ones dressed and out the door and to keep them quiet and in good spirits for a long and very adult meeting?
I was stuck in the middle of a pew, and wanted desperately to go help her. Perhaps I should have. Maybe I have no right to say anything because I didnt' get up either. I wanted to. I didn't know if I'd embarrass her if I got up (which would have been very obvious since I was sitting in the middle of the second row!) and walked all the way around to go to where she was. I didn't know if it would be a good idea to leave my own three small children to go and help her. I didn't know what I could do for her, really...but my heart went out to her. Perhaps I should judge others less for their choices not to act, and ponder on my own more. But the others didn't even seem to notice. Most either ignored the problem or shot her disturbing glares. "Why can't she just keep those kids quiet? She's disturbing the spirit!"

What she the one disturbing the spirit? Or was it the ones who were judging and giving distainful looks?

Before I had the chance to do anything, she got up and walked out, carrying two of her kids football style out the door with the other three lagging behind. It was obvious she'd had enough and was going home. I got up and ran out after her. I offered to let her two oldest stay at church with us as we had two extra seats in our car. She admitted she was at her patience level and needed to go, but let the two oldest stay. Before she left, she said, "I guess if I can't handle them, I should have stopped at three, huh?" My heart broke into a million pieces. I knew this was not her talking, but her voicing what she thought (and probably knew) to be the opinions of others that were judging her.

What happened to all those lessons about service and love and charity that they went into our ears but did not compute? Why can we find endless opportunities to serve people, but they must be conjured up in a meeting? Why can't we see the thousands of things we could do each and every day for the people walking and talking and sitting right beside us?

I challenge each of you to look around you and see the opportunities you have to help others in your daily life? A simple word of kindness, a calming presence to someone who looks frustrated, an offer to carry someone's bag as they struggle with not enough hands for their load. Noticing the small moments....the small things are what matter. After all, life is made up of mostly small moments. These are the things that truly portray service and Christlike love.

Nag Nag Nag...

I don't want to be a nag. Really I don't!

But it's SOOOO hard! Why is that? Because I'm a woman? Because I'm a mom and used to telling people what to do all day? Because I am actually responsible and want others to be too? Do I just expect too much?

I get really tired of being the only one to pick things up. Like a couple of days ago, when I "gave up" on housework. All three kids had been sick all week and I just couldn't keep up. Part of me went on Strike. All that did was allow 2 days of dirty dishes to pile up on the kitchen table. That's right....2 days, 3 meals a day, 3 kids. That's 18 dirty dishes on my table, folks! Nasty! What frustrates me most is that on any given day, I know that if I die, whatever is laying around, will be there 10 years from now because I am the only person who will pick it up. I know that there are a few heads out there nodding in complete understanding.

So fast forward to tonight. James comes home from work at 6:00pm. I had just gotten dinner on the table and had the rest of it sitting on the stove for James. He ate the rest of the dinner, then proceeded to clean up the kitchen table dishes.

Miracle of all Miracles! Hallelujah!

Except for one thing. The kids hadn't eaten yet! Every day there are infinate opportunities to pick up things that are not where they belong. There is never a time in which there are not several choices of chores that can be done and that need to be done. And yet, the time that my sweet husband chooses to surprise me with un-solicited housekeeping help, he throws away the kid's dinner (having eaten the rest of it, mind you) and causing me to have to make yet another dinner for my family.

I really, really, REALLY wanted to nag. "Why would you do that? Why would you throw away dinner dishes at dinner time without making sure they were done? Especially when the bowls were full!" I wanted to shake my fists and ask "Why?!?!" so badly my cheeks hurt from restraining myself. But how can I nag when he just did something that I hope and wish for on a daily basis?

Am I just expecting too much? Am I just one of those women who always finds something negative to say? You know who I'm talking about, those sitcom old hags who go around critisizing every little thing if it's not done to their specifications (I'm picturing Ramond's mother on Everybody loves Ramond here).

How can I just be grateful for a husband who tries to make me happy? (Even if he really just makes more work sometimes!) It's certainly not the first time something like this has happened.

If someone has the secret, please share it with me. Until then, I'll keep clenching my jaw and repeating the words, "He cleared the table. He cleared the table. He cleared the table!"

I suppose it's my own fault. All I ever said in my prayers were "please help James help out around the house....like clearing off the table.". I should have been MUCH more specific.

I'm a bad mommy...

I have failed my children. I have failed to teach them the "basics" of Christmas tradition. Everyone grows up knowing about certain Christmas-time rituals: caroling, cookie plates, pictures with Santa at the mall.

I, however, have failed. I've never taken my kids to sit on Santa's lap at the mall.

Ever.

In fact, I took Megan to the mall the other day, for some special one-on-one time. As we were going in, we saw Santa walking in the mall. Excitedly, Megan pointed and asked, "Santa! What is he doing here?"
I explained to her that a lot of moms bring their kids to the mall to sit on Santa's lap and have their picture taken. I thought maybe she'd complain that I had never done such a thing. Instead, she wrinkled her cute little nose and said,

"Um, that's weird."

There you have it. I have officially ruined my children.

Mommy would you love me........

Tonight my oldest daughter Emilee decided to test my love for her.

"Mommy? Would you still love me if I grew up to be a mean girl?"

"Of course, sweetie."

"Even if I was really mean, and stole children?"

Ummm....ok. So now I have a criminal in the making. I can't wait until she starts shoplifting at age 6.

Seriously though, we talked about how I'd always love her no matter what. But that if she made bad choices I'd be really really sad because I would be worried that we wouldn't get to be together as a family forever. That's one thing I love about the gospel. It helps me talk to my children and give them answers I'd otherwise not know how to explain. In almost every case, I can turn to the gospel to talk to her.

Well, except for times when she asks why urine is yellow......or why that doggie has things hanging from his bottom....or why eggs don't look the same cooked as when they are raw.....or......

I'm going to eat well and exercize......starting tomorrow.

This is what I tell myself each and every day. And every day one of three things happen:
1) I end up going to Dr's appts, my errands take too long, my kids are sick, some long lost friend calls and talks for an hour or my 18 month old single-handedly destroys the house while I'm going to the bathroom.

2) When I DO manage to spare a moment or two, I find myself online.

3) The holidays show up. I would be a remiss mother if I allowed my kids to eat all the junk they get for Halloween. That's not healthy! So being the self-sacrificing mother that I am, I eat it for them. To spare them...yah, yah...to spare them. Or Thanksgiving comes around. And I wouldn't want to be rude and not partake of the pie someone slaved over, even if it was Costco that did the "slaving". Next is Christmas, and who am I to squash people's Christmas spirit by not eating the cookies they bring?

So you see, it's completely out of my hands. I have no choice really. Who has time? I was seriously committed to doing it this week! The kids have a break from their gymnastics and swimming lessons, so I vowed to use those free hours to exercize at the Y and put the kids in the daycare. Then Monday hit and we've been one big walking ball of snot, fevers, and coughs. We're a germaphobes worst nightmare. So obviously I didn't make it. So yet again, another week has passed without so much as one minute of "real" excerize (although, according to my Mother-in-law, "you work so hard with those little kids, it's a mystery you're not skinny!"

But really, at least I have one thing going for me. I'm consistent! I have failed to live up to my exercizing goal for something like 215 weeks in a row! I should win a medal.

What keeps me going....

Let me tell you about my last 36 hours. No, wait...that won't give you the total picture. Ok, let me start just under 2 weeks ago. It Thanksgiving, and we're having a wonderful day with family and friends. I notice Melia is getting a goopy eye. "Great....", I mutter. "I'll give pink eye to my friend's kids!" Later that night, Emilee gets a goopy eye as well. A trip to the Dr. the next morning tells us that they both have bacterial eye infections and raging ear infections. We start them on rounds of antibiotics.

Ok, now fast forward to 10 days later. We are on Melia's last day of antibiotics when she spikes a high fever. Hmmmm....how do you get a fever when you are already on antibiotics? I took her in yesterday morning and her other ear is now infected, as well as the fact that she's still a snot machine and has the same nasty cough she's had for 3 weeks, and it sounds worse each day. At least the antibiotics worked for Emilee!
So Melia gets even more antibiotics. Then nightfall hits. Emilee wakes up crying and choking, gasping for air. We thought she'd aspirated some vomit or something because she was coughing and choking so much and her breathing sounded funny. But when I ask her what she was choking on she tells me "Air! I don't know how, but I was choking on air.". She complains of her head hurting and she is burning up. She's so hot to the touch and her poor body is racked with shivers. So she gets a cool washcloth, some cuddle time and eventually a cool bath as well, although she's really not too happy about that! She wakes up a few more times in the night and ends up sleeping her hot little body next to me all night.

I hate sick kids. Not only do I hate not getting sleep, but I really hate just being helpless while your kids are miserable! But at least Megan has escaped being sick! 1 sick kid is hard; 2 sick kids is miserable; 3 sick kids makes you want to scream. So at least one kid is healthy, right? Emilee and Melia have been sick so long it's a miracle that Megan has just been happy as a clam.

Oh yeah, wait. I shouldn't have said that. Nevermind. Megan just came to me. She too, now has a fever and has goop running out her eye! Boy, fun times! Why do I do this again? Someone remind me why Motherhood is this spectacular wonderful thing...

Actually, I know why. Last night, amidst all of the snot, crying and hot heads, Megan begged me to make cookies with her. I had just cleaned the kitchen, a small miracle in itself and I didn't have any wonderful Pillsbury refrigerated cookie dough to plop on the sheet! But I was feeling generous and so I buckled down to make real cookies with Megan. As she mixed the shortening and flour together, making sure to spill most of the flour all over my nice clean counter and floors, Megan looked up at me, smiled that killer 3 year old smile and said, "I really love working as a team. Mom, I love you!"

It's amazing how one small sentence makes 36 hours disappear in an instant. In one brief moment, I went from Over-worked-mommy mode to I've-never-loved-another-being-as-much-as-I-love-you mode. How do they do that? What do kids have that make us melt in an instant?

Granted, what you're not seeing in this story, is that at the exact same time, my 18 month old is entertaining herself by dumping water and day-old Bean with Bacon soup all over herself and floor. No magic spell can last for too long...I might get spoiled! But now I have my memory for the day....the memory that can get me through the day. Ok, who am I kidding, that will memory will probably have to last me a month, but I don't care. That's the thing about kids. That one beautiful bonding moment can make you not care about 1,000 frustrating, tiring or discouraging ones. I love being a Mom.

The Drama Queen

Let me give you a brief introduction to Emilee. She is my oldest. She will be six in January. She's cute as a button and extremely bright! She is, however, VERY emotional! She has been since she was little. My mother tells me it serves me right....since I happen to be emotional myself. Thanks Mom.

This morning she came to me crying about something...I don't know what since I could understand very little between the blubbers and the sniffs. I told her to stop crying and come back to talk to me when she could use her words. 5 minutes later she had composed herself and came back to talk to me. I praised her for the way she was able to compose herself and told her I understood how hard it was when you just felt like crying. I told her that I had had times that I felt like crying for no reason as well. Emilee's eyes got as big as saucers as she asked, "You cry too? Why do you cry?" I told her that I was emotional, just like her. With doubt in her eyes, she firmly planted one hand on each hip and asked, "Are you a drama queen too?".

Well Emilee, you'll have to ask Daddy about that one!

If they all jumped off a cliff I probably would too!

My friends that is...

So all my friends are getting blogs....why not me? I'm such a follower. I can't really write. I have little to even write about! But hey, I don't want to be left out! So here I am, starting my own blog. Kinda fun! Woohoo! Are we having fun yet?

We got our new Christmas cards done! I get to pick them up from Costco tomorrow! My good friend Hidee took the pictures! She did a great job I think! Especially since Melia smiled for about 5 minutes of picture taking and decided she'd have enough of that! Add to that the fact that Megan has decided that her new "special" smile involves biting her bottom lip and tucking her top lip under her teeth! So with some wonderful photoshopping, we now have a family picture! Our first one since Emilee was a baby! I'm excited. Although there's nothing like seeing yourself in print to make you realize you don't weigh what you did when you had your picture taken 5 years ago!