birth, doula, Healing, Honesty, Intention

Yesterday, on the day of the Winter Solstice, I attended what will (probably) be my last birth of 2018. On the darkest day of the year, baby made their entrance into the world right at sunrise. On the darkest day of the year, this baby brought the light. The poetry of that moment prompted me to reflect on other births I have witnessed that also brought light to dark spaces, and the qualities that these births shared.


For lack of more suitable language, these are the births that, “went well.” What do I mean by that?


I mean that these births had the best possible outcome – and no, the best possible outcome is not just “healthy baby, healthy [parent.]” I also don’t mean (necessarily) that their were no deviations from their “birth plans.”


When I say that a birth went well, or had the best possible outcome, I mean that the parent(s) walked away from the experience with a deeper trust and understanding of their own power and intuition. They didn’t feel betrayed or shamed by their bodies, or care providers.


The light that these births brought to the dark reality of the overwhelmingly broken perinatal care system is twofold – first, the birthing person deeply and truly believed in their capacity to give birth; and second, they were able to cultivate a safe space for their labor experience.


The belief in ones capacity to give birth is something that can be grown over time. It is normal to have some doubts, especially for first time parents or parents who are carrying trauma from past births. It is crucial to find a way to alchemize that doubt into deep belief. The process by which that is done looks different for everyone but follows a similar pattern – unlearn what you think you know, in order to make space to remember your inherent wisdom. That is the way folks find their way to a deep belief in and trust of birth.


In order to build a safe container for their birth experience, individuals who had the best possible birth outcomes prepared mentally, emotionally, and physically for birth. They unpacked their own narratives surrounding birth and their bodies, and when they were in partnerships, invited their partner to do the same. There was a willingness to dive into the uncomfortable that was a central theme of the weeks, months, or sometimes even years leading up to birth. Finally, they considered and understood the importance of choosing a care provider and labor team who supported their goals, and whom they trusted.


It was nothing other than that well established sense of safety and trust that ultimately allowed them to stay focused throughout labor – to stay on what I fondly refer to as, “planet labor,” a mystical brain space that exists outside of analytic thought, emotion, and even bodily sensation and connection.


Let’s not misunderstand, of the births I witnessed where these elements were present – safety, believe, and trust – there was still intensity. The experience still shook the birthing person to their core. They may still live pieces of those memories over and over again until they process and heal from the pain and intensity of it all. There may still be trauma that they carry. There may still be injury. There may still be disappointments.


But, by doing the work to ready themselves for the transformative experience of giving birth, they will have set the scaffolding needed to build themselves back up after birth. They will walk away from their birth experience stronger and more aware. They may still carry doubts, but they will be practiced in the process of unlearning and remembering their inherent wisdom. They will understand that the only way out is through, and they will heal in their own time and in their own way.


To my clients, thank you for showing up for yourselves in this way, and allowing me to stand alongside you and witness your power. You are the light and love that makes this deep, dark, sometimes fear-laden work worth returning to over and over again.

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BestSelf, Intention, Practice

Two core values of my practice are “radical self-awareness” and “radical compassion.” What do these mean (to me)?


rad-i-cal 


  1. growing from the root.
  2. affecting the fundamental nature of something.
  3. favoring extreme changes in preexisting views.

self-a-wareness


  1. awareness of ones own root.
  2. awareness of ones own fundamental nature.
  3. awareness of ones own biases, influences, and ignorances.

com-pas-sion


  1. thoughtfulness and attempted understanding, often of what we may not know or see about another person, or about ourselves.

A practice of radical self-awareness can take shape through many modalities. Yoga, mindfulness, martial arts, meditation, journaling, therapy, support groups, the twelve steps… and an infinite number of other processes, some that I may never learn of, or any amalgamation of these different practices. No matter the path to arrival, radical self-awareness usually includes all or most of the following: awareness of ones location in their community, society, and the world (race, socioeconomic positio, religion, language, gender, sexual orientation, access needs, identity, etc.); awareness of ones body at an increasingly detailed and fine-tuned scale; awareness of ones own disposition; and growing awareness of personal or cultural narratives and biases, that one may otherwise be ignorant to. 


In the practices I guide – movement, breath, somatic integration – and in the topics I educate on – inherently transformative reproductive stages and events (i.e., pregnancy, birth, postpartum) – this kind of self-awareness is integral to the evolution and holistic wellbeing of the individual. It is not something that I can give. It is something that whomever I am working with must want to approach for themselves. I can – and I do – express the importance of this kind of self-awareness, but I can never and would never push someone towards it.


It is messy, uncomfortable, jarring, and often times depressing to practice this kind of radical self-awareness… at least, at first. 


Radical compassion, then, must follow the discomfort of radical self-awareness. 


When I think of the move from radical self-awareness to radical compassion, I think of an illustrating example from my studies with Leslie Howard. Leslie is known for explicitly laying out a practice of Pelvic Floor Yoga. The pelvic floor is an area of the body that, for many reasons both cultural and personal, people tend to be disconnected from. Leslie spoke of a recurrent moment with her pelvic floor students that goes something like this:


While practicing, a student says, “I noticed _________________ in my body… what do I do about it?”


To which Leslie replies, “Be grateful that you noticed.”


That’s it. The step from radical self-awareness to radical compassion really can be that simple.


It is easy to avoid self-awareness all together, or to disengage from it once it starts to feel radical. An extreme change in our foundation can feel shaky, to say the least. Why would someone want to engage with practices that make them question their position in the world, their privileges, their disadvantages, their strengths, their weaknesses, their imbalances, and their traumas? I am here to say that it is worth it every single time, if – and maybe only if – the discomfort of radical self-awareness is followed by radical compassion.


When this blueprint is followed, that new, uncomfortable, but glorious awareness has implications not only for the way in which we meet ourselves, but also for the way in which we meet others. Rather than realizing our nuances and judging them, we realize them and begin to understand the influence that they have and have had on our behaviors, habits, and perceived failures. We can then choose to change or adjust based on the pull of our moral compass and personal ethics. Once we see this about ourselves, it starts to click that other people also have as much subtly to the way that they exist within, and interact with the world. As a result, we develop a greater capacity to deeply, truly, and lovingly support and forgive ourselves, and deeply, truly, and lovingly support and forgive others. We learn to confidently identify and ask for what we need, and respond to the needs of others with more receptivity.

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BestSelf, doula, Healing, Honesty, Intention, Loving Kindness, Practice

Masculine Brith Ritual – A Podcast About Creating Life Outside The Lines


Masculine Birth Ritual is a podcast created by Grover Wehman-Brown, a writer, Baba to two  kids, and a transmasculine butch who has carried a child. The podcast came out of a desire to connect queer and transgender people to roadmaps for survival in pregnancy, birthing, and parenting, and create space for more representation of transmasculine and gender-non-conforming people in those spaces. 


I absolutely adore this podcast and the stories that are being shared through it. The discovery of this podcast came at an extremely critical moment for me, both personally and professionally. So I thought I would give a little bit of background and then return to the podcast itself and share pieces of it that have been most meaningful for me.


If you would like to learn more about Masculine Birth Ritual and listen, click here!

& consider becoming a Patreon to support the production and longevity of this amazing work! 


Acknowledging and Affirming: My Own Gender Identity, Expression, and Social Transition as a Birth Professional


This past spring, I was in one of those places where it feels like everything is pulling apart just so that you can piece it back together in a new way. After leaving an unhealthy living situation to the call of, “go home, Jenna,” I moved back into to my parents’ house for a temporary hiatus (5 months) from a sliver of the responsibilities that I could give up (rent, groceries, utility bills), and I acknowledge the fact that I was able to do so is an immense privilege. I was exploring sobriety after – justly – questioning my relationship with alcohol. I was expanding my work as a doula – rebranding, establishing an LLC, hiring an accountant, adding new service offerings, working in a business coaching program, taking multiple courses related to my professional development… 


Still, all of those shifts were nothing compared to one piece of myself that, while it had always been there, had recently begun to swell up, throb, and demand action – my gender identity. “Now is not the time,” I tried to convince myself. 


Fast-forward through a whole mess of internal work. 


Many of you know what came next, or you can probably guess. I ultimately decided that I couldn’t step fully into the deeply personal work of a doula without being authentically myself; I had to be transparent in order to be trustworthy, even if it meant being misunderstood by many, and all the loss that comes along with that misunderstanding. I began the social transition to out as a trans non-binary person in both my personal and professional lives. 


It always seems like massive shifts happen all at once, rather than one at a time. Like nearly all transitions, the ones I was experiencing at this time in my life were painful, but worth it. 


The only one of these changes that I ever catch myself doubting is my choice to be out publicly. I could look to blame others for this lack of confidence, but I won’t. The onus is on me for the way that I internalize the cultural narrative of the gender binary, and as a result fight with my own transphobia on a daily basis. I am responsible for the way I allow being misgendered and misunderstood to invalidate my sense of self, and the way that I question my value as a non-binary birthworker. This is an every day battle for me, and until recently, I failed to fully realize that this struggle makes me even more valuable as a doula, not less. 


It was one moment recently – one small moment – that was so meaningful in affirming both my identity and my identity as it relates to my profession. Scrolling through Instagram one day, I noticed my friend Ray of Refuge Midwifery had posted about a new podcast. Enter, Masculine Birth Ritual. 


My experience as a non-binary doula, and also as a non-binary hopeful future parent, is defined in part by a sense of isolation, despite knowledge that there are other people out there like me. So when I come across any connecting force for birth-y genderqueer folks – a podcast, an article, a facebook group – I find myself instantly uplifted. 


As I began to listen to the podcast, I immediately felt parallels between the stories shared and my own experiences. Though each of the individuals interviewed have vastly different backgrounds and stories than one another, and myself, the connections I felt were extremely validating. Rather than diving deeply into analysis of those connections (because I’m not even sure I could articulate them clearly), I will instead share a few excepts from the transcripts of two interviews below, and then a very short list of affirmations I have been working with.


From Rabbi Elliot Kukla, a trans Rabbi & non-binary Papa, who cares spiritually for folks who are dying, as they process their grief. 


Listen to Episode 5 here.


I actually came out as trans the same year I was ordained as a Rabbi in 2006. So they were very connected for me. I didn’t plan to come out really that year it was a really difficult time to come out in the same moment as being ordained. But it really was you know discovering that I couldn’t step into this role of being a Rabbi without a coming out process.

We have a stereotype that elders are going to be the least open to a trans population and very sick people are you know the least open to something new. And I really discovered just the opposite that you know elders and people who are very sick and people who are dying and in moments of transformation. Are often you know going through a similar process that I went through when I came out of you know… cracking open and are often at their most open and most vulnerable. And that being served by someone who clearly is liminal in some way and is fairly marginal in some way can be a profound form of connection. In fifteen years now of being a chaplain of doing this kind of work I can count on one hand really at the times that someone’s really struggling with my gender. And those times have been spiritually powerful often. You know there’s been a couple of times I’ve had to just not serve someone but most of the times it’s been spiritually meaningful when someone struggled with my gender.

…meaning that we are able to use that struggle in something that is relevant for their spiritual care and that’s what I’m for for that usually you know we’re able to not get stuck in that but but figure out what it is that is what is being touched on in them. And maybe it’s something about their own gender or something about their own transition in that moment or feeling outside or feeling in-between things
or feeling like the world is changing really fast.


From Mac Brydum, a social worker, doula and transman who is trying to conceive.


Listen to Episode 3 here.


I’ve found over the years through trial and error that that’s really where I shine and that’s where I’m happiest professionally, is being with people as they’re going through major life transitions and having a baby is one of the biggest life transitions anyone can go through. And I also just have a real love and passion and a real wonder, actually, about pregnancy and birth and parenting. And I think that stage of life for so many people is confusing and overwhelming. You hear a million different opinions and
sorting through all of that and figuring out what you actually want to do can be really really complicated.

So in the last few years I’ve found that being a doula is the perfect fit for me because it’s this fusion of, you know, I think of it as a form of social work because I am supporting people through a major life change. And I also think of it as a spiritual practice in a lot of ways as well because when somebody is becoming, you know, they are taking on a new identity…

…and as a trans person I can understand a shift in identity. While I’m not a parent myself yet, I hope to be soon, and so one thing that I’m really big on is just holding space for that shift in identity for the parent. 


Affirmations…


My trans non-binary identity makes me stronger as a full-spectrum doula supporting people through birth, postpartum, pregnancy loss, and abortion because…


  • I understand personal loss.
  • I am practiced in transformation.
  • I know what it feels like to question myself.
  • I understand that grief is inherent in transition.
  • I know what it is like to feel misunderstood or invisible.
  • I live in the space between who I was before and who I am becoming.
  • I am familiar with the feeling of being lonely, even when I am not alone.
  • I relate to the experience of existing outside of the “norm” in a space where “norms” are an illusion.
  • I know that while others may relate to my experience or try to define it on my behalf, my experience is mine alone.
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birth, doula, Intention, Loving Kindness

 May all birthing people everywhere be safe and free from suffering. May they have access to information and care that aligns with their sense of safety and freedom, regardless of their status in society, the color of their skin, their gender, sexual orientation, or family structure. May they feel respected, heard, and held through the sacred rites of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. May all hold space for the loss that is inherent in these sacred rights. May birthing people seek to thrive, not simply survive. May all see the grace that is intimately intertwined with the experiences of carrying, birthing, and caring for new life, regardless of outcome. 

Words by Jenna Brown

Illustration by Dan Gluibizzi

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