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, 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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doula, Healing, Honesty, postpartum, Practice
In my previous post, Through a Trauma Lens: The Need for Doulas, I did something that I have too often been guilty of in the past – I only addressed pregnancy and birth, while neglecting postpartum (and conception, contraception, abortion, etc.). Over the past several months, my practice and study has been focused on integrating more postpartum support for those I serve. Now, I feel as a birth doula that I have failed my clients if I have not adequately prompted them to evaluate their potential needs in the weeks and months after their baby is born. It is still the case that far too few people consider, value, and hire a doula for their birth – even of those for whom the cost of these services is well within an accessible range. However, it breaks my heart when a person or family does see the value in a birth doula, but not in a postpartum doula. Birth is a blip – a significant blip, but still just a blip in your journey. The way that you are supported (or not) in the postpartum period will impact your physical, emotional, mental, and sexual healing and wellbeing for the rest of your life. Having adequate support during the fourth trimester and beyond can help prevent your birth story and your early parenting story from becoming traumatic memories for you, your partner, your family, and your baby. In addition to providing extra hands to help you care for your baby and household, a postpartum doula (or someone filling a similar role) will help you process as you go along, and make sure that you have the space, energy, and capacity to explore the emotions and thought-patterns that are integral to your healing. So often I see new parents who have been conditioned to believe that they are martyrs. The results of putting your needs so far below the needs of your new baby are devastating. Your family cannot afford to bottle up the difficult feelings that can, and will, arise in early parenthood. One cause of this perceived martyrdom is the slew of unrealistic expectations that you may have of your baby in their first few months of life. You may expect that your baby will eat on a schedule, poop on a schedule, and perhaps most outrageously, sleep for several consecutive hours on a schedule. Then when this doesn’t happen – because it won’t – you put a huge amount of pressure on yourself and your partner to care for this tiny being 24/7 on virtually no sleep. Why? I am sick of hearing, “this is just parenthood.” Perhaps this pain is a rite of passage, but when the pain becomes traumatic, it has gone too far. Often times, the lack of help sought during postpartum has to do with the intimacy of this time. Between the physical healing of the birthing parent, breastfeeding (when applicable), and the sheer loss of all social niceties under the weight of exhaustion, many families have a very short list of people whom they feel comfortable welcoming into their postpartum space. Rightfully so. I am all for setting boundaries and limiting your energetic expenditures through social exposure, but at what cost to your support system? Is that list of welcome guests so short that the only people on it aren’t available to really be there and help? Other times, I see pride as a limiting factor in receiving postpartum support. More often than not, it is a partner, not the birthing person/primary caregiver who adopts the attitude of, “we don’t need anyone else, we can do this on our own.” Sometimes in these cases, weeks later, when both parents are depleted, there is still a stubborn allegiance to this mindset that serves no one. To this person I ask, what if instead of taking pride in independence, you could take pride in your ability to receive help gracefully? Finally, the financial strain of having a new baby may limit the extent to which families are able to hire help in the months following birth. My advice to anyone who is now pregnant or trying to conceive is to budget for postpartum help now. If you end up reading this after the birth of your baby, consider sitting down and reevaluating the idea of hiring help – I can all but guarantee that your sleep and your sanity are wearing a much higher price tag these days. I can appreciate that for some people, hired help will simply not be a financial possibility. If this is your reality, consider expanding the list of folks you choose to ask for help, and really think about how those friends and family members can be most helpful in the limited time they may be able to come over and provide support. Do the dishes need to be done? When was the last time you showered? Could they hold the baby for a couple of hours while you nap? To return to trauma… all of the categories I addressed in my first post could be applied here. Rather than lay them all out in detail I would like to just remind the reader… Remember that people used to parent in larger family groups. Previously in human history, in a household with a new baby there was never someone more than an arms-length away from the infant. More likely than not, at almost all times that baby was being held. Very young babies do not sleep deeply for long stretches when left to lie alone – this is an evolutionary defense, not a behavioral problem. A calm, confident caregiver holding an infant has massive positive impacts on their development. And finally, you cannot fill from an empty cup. Do you have more questions about postpartum doulas or how you can best support yourself during the fourth trimester? Email me! loveoverfearwellness@gmail.com
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birth, Healing, Honesty
Help me bring These Are My Hours to Philadelphia in June 2019, with a special Q&A with Emily Graham! Donate to help cover the costs of theater rental deposit – If you donate $20 now, you will get two tickets to the event once it is booked! If you are a birth professional or business owner and interested in advertising at the event, please email loveoverfearwellness@gmail.com for information.  Donate herehttps://www.gofundme.com/these-are-my-hours-screening-qampa  
  I seem to be talking a lot about birth media these days. Between Facebook and Instagram recently allowing uncensored images of birth to be shared, my own personal reactions to misinformed and dangerous depictions of birth in mainstream media, and the Indie Birth conference earlier this month, it is fair to say that the topic of birth media has dominated my conversations for much of the month of May. At the Indie Birth conference we had the privilege of screening an absolutely magnificent film, These Are My Hours, and the opportunity to do a Q&A with the folks behind the film. Now, I could say a lot about this film, but just in case you don’t make it to the end of this post I will just be sure to say WATCH THIS FILM! (Click here rent on Vimeo & use the code BIRTHISRAD for 30% off In a day and age where we are hard-pressed to find any realistic depictions of birth in mainstream media, These Are My Hours, offers a truly cinematic, real, raw, and downright beautiful glimpse of childbirth. This hour-long production had me laughing hysterically at moments, bawling my eyes out at others, and sometimes, both at once – and it is completely unscripted. One of my favorite things about this film from the backend is that, while it is directed and co-written by a man – Scott Kirschenbaum – the narrative is driven by the woman laboring in the film, Emily Graham, who is also the co-writer and narrator. You can’t even find Scott’s name on the film’s website (click here to explore), you have to go to IMDB or watch the film to find him credited. What a gorgeous real-life example of the divine masculine graciously supporting the divine feminine! In order to produce the film, Emily’s home was prepared in advance with cameras and equipment so that she could get used to having these foreign objects in her intimate birthing space. The crew was called when she went into labor, and showed up to do their jobs as quietly as possible. For most of the film, Emily is alone in the frame. Her partner is nearby but not on top of her, her midwife is in the next room, and her mother is across the room peacefully knitting on the couch. Emily prefers to have the consistent presence of her birthkeepers, but not to be interrupted by them at all during labor, unless she specifically asks for support. Her preferences are perfectly reflected in the final cut of the film, and because of this, I truly believe that These Are My Hours has the power to cure the disbelief of anyone who questions uninterrupted physiological labor. While an uninterrupted physiological birth experience may not be what every birthing person prefers for themselves, it is the right choice for many people – and it is sorely underrepresented in media, and completely ignored in mainstream media. The underrepresentation of this kind of birth not only means that most people do not realize that it is within the realm of possibility for them, but it also leads to the misunderstanding, alienation, and even persecution of those who do know that this is what they want, and who choose it for themselves. My wish is that every single person who may ever give birth, or provide support to another person in labor, watches These Are My Hours. My wish is that this film is shown in med. school, doula trainings, sex ed., and childbirth classes around the world. My wish is that this film is remembered for the role it played in the birth revolution and the reclaiming of birth. I lovingly thank Emily, Scott, Jason, and Carey for this piece of living art.
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birth, Healing, Honesty, Intention, Miscellaneous
Photography by Kayla Gonzales of @austinbirthphotos Recently, a petition that gained momentum through the hashtag #IGallowuncensoredbirth on Instagram won, causing Facebook and Instagram to change their policies surrounding images of birth posted on social media. (Read more about this change by clicking here).  While I believe it is vital that we are exposed to many different images of birth in order to breakdown taboos, expose ourselves to the many normal variations in childbirth, and begin to reprogram the way we think about birth… the visibility of childbirth should be approached in a mindful way in order to keep birth sacred. I chose the following five Instagram accounts because they photograph/post/share with the permission of those pictured, and because they include a variety of different experiences. This is a great place to start for any one who wants to integrate images of birth into their everyday experience on social media. Happy scrolling! @empoweredbirthproject @indiebirth @the_angela_gallo @blackwomenbirthing @austinbirthphotos
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birth, doula, Healing, Honesty, Intention, Loving Kindness, Practice
Trigger warning: trauma, doctors, hospital, birth, sex It is very important to me to approach all of the work that I do from a trauma-informed perspective. Whether it is asking for consent before touching a student in yoga class, offering self-regulation skills to those I work with, or preparing clients for potential triggers*, I do my best to incorporate my on-going learning in the field of trauma into my professional practices. Recently, I began taking trauma classes for professionals through Lakeside Global Institute (formerly IFP), and have been layering in what I am learning with my preexisting trauma-informed approaches. One of the biggest impacts these classes have had on me so far is the ability to speak to why I do things differently than other professionals like me.  Why remind yoga students over and over that everything I offer in class is optional? Why ask about family relationships on my doula client intake forms, or wait until the third and final prenatal meeting to practice hands-on skills with my birth clients? It has also given me the language and understanding to better explain why trauma should be considered when understanding that doulas are a necessity, not a luxury. The scope of this post will be specific to birth doulas. I feel obligated to insert the following disclaimer: I have now put myself in an interesting place, because I am saying that there is a need for birth doulas, and that they are a necessity… but I also deeply believe that the cultural narrative surrounding birth is flawed because it necessitates the help and presence of professionals and paraprofessionals during childbirth. I believe that instinct alone CAN be enough to guide someone through labor, but because birth has become medicalized and pathologize-d, and because most folks feel safest under the observation of a medical professional during childbirth, I am making the assumption that the majority of those who might read this would plan to give birth in a hospital, birth center, or under the care of a midwife at a home birth. Do I think that you need a doula order to have a positive birth experience? In the deepest sense, no, but in the cultural sense yes. That being said, through a trauma lens… what makes doulas a necessity?
Evidence Supports the Use of A Birth Doula Did you know that there have been 25 randomized, controlled trials that studied the effects of continuous labor support, including doulas? The 2017 Cochrane Review compiled the results of these studies. Overall, those who received labor support had a decrease in unwanted medical intervention (including a 39% decrease in the chance of unplanned c-section), and overall less anxiety AND less pain. Any measurable differences between those assigned labor support or those who went without, were more significant when the assigned support was a trained doula. When considering trauma, the most relevant piece of data from this review is the significant decrease in a person’s feeling of dissatisfaction with their childbirth experience… a 31% decrease in those who were supported by a doula. Now, the word “dissatisfaction,” leaves a lot open to interpretation. Let me put it this way… childbirth is demanding physically, emotionally, mentally, energetically, financially, relationally… the list goes on. This isn’t a shrug your shoulders kind of dissatisfaction, as you mutter, “Eh, we’ll get it right next time. Easy come, easy go.” This isn’t a time to be polite about the small intrusions or discomforts. Trauma is sensory. It is stored in our bodies in a way that can feel mysterious because it exists beneath conscious thought. You had better believe that someone touching you in an unwanted way (especially invasively or internally), talking to you in a way that distracts (especially in an inappropriate tone or using thoughtless language), smelling strongly near you, or being in your sensory space in any way that is overwhelming, will be much more intense when you are in labor, and the impacts may be longer-lasting. Now, add in that labor is always unpredictable. Whether you are having your first child, or your fifth, you have no idea what this experience will bring. New sensations and signs of labor, new timelines, and new thought patterns can throw us into an alarmed or fearful state. When we lose the ability to think clearly due to fear, everything starts to feel like a potential danger. In a medicalized labor setting the sensory overload and feeling of fear could be amplified. To give an oversimplified example, if you are being monitored, there might be the constant sound of your baby’s heart rate, and periodic beeping from the monitor when it is out of paper, or the band slips off of your belly and it can’t get a read. The loud beeping continues until someone is comes in to stop it, and while they’re in your room they likely also touch you and ask you questions. Double or triple that pattern of alarming sound, medical disruption, and the anxiety it might cause if you are receiving IV fluids or medication. With each disruptive trigger, you might drop into a lower brain state. You forget the tools you prepared to help you through labor – your breath, your affirmations, your movements – and minutes start to feel like hours. A doula can help you self-regulate. No matter your labor setting, the level of medical intervention you choose, or the unpredicted twists and turns of labor, your doula will remind you of your coping mechanisms. A doula can also help you improve the sensory setting. Whether its turning down the lights, or coaching your partner when and how to best communicate with you, or asking the nurse to please wait until this contraction is over before they try to place that IV. The little things that a trained doula knows to look for and prepare for make a big difference when it comes to how the memory of your labor experience will be stored and processed.
Benefits the Development of Your Child Did you know that your baby begins storing emotional memories in the 3rd trimester of pregnancy? And, emotional memories are the longest lasting memories? And, the younger a person, the greater an impact that trauma has? The way that you feel in the final weeks of pregnancy can have lasting impacts on the development of your child. When the brain is sent signals of stress or fear, development is focused in the brain stem and midbrain. Survival becomes the goal. We want our children to thrive, not simply survive! Often, stress in the 3rd trimester is related to preparation for labor. Perhaps you’re beginning to question your abilities or your level of preparedness. A doula will not only spend time in prenatal meetings helping you to prepare in the way that is best for you, but they can also answer any lingering questions. Many birth doulas are also childbirth educators, so they are a wealth of information to supplement any classes you may have taken, or books/blogs you are reading. Having a professional who will answer your texts, calls and emails, and who will validate your ability to birth and to parent makes a huge difference in your stress level in the final weeks of pregnancy. The increased positivity will help your baby store memories that are positive, too. When the brain learns love, rather than fear while still in utero, it sends a very powerful message – grow, develop, be unafraid, there is a lovely world waiting to meet you.
Helps Mitigate the Impact of Transgenerational Trauma Did you know that trauma can be passed down? We might be okay with our children having our green eyes, or creative mind, but we probably want to prevent them from feeling the hurt that we have felt in our own lives. If you have a traumatic labor, then your baby has a traumatic birth. It is that simple. If you do not adequately process your traumatic experience in childbirth, it will perpetuate. Both you and your baby can avoid unnecessary trauma, and heal from unavoidable trauma with the help of a trauma-informed doula. As a trauma-informed doula, often this means that I refer clients to professionals with higher levels of training and capacity than myself. We don’t know what we don’t know. Someone who can help you identify what is traumatic, and seek out the appropriate path towards healing is invaluable.
Long Term Financial Benefits Did you know that from a systems perspective, it is more socially and fiscally sustainable to identify, prevent and heal trauma, than it is to ignore it and find quick fixes for trauma symptoms? Okay, that was a mouthful. I want to avoid getting into unrelated politics here, so let me just say this… There is a cultural tendency to ignore trauma. Sometimes,  this is because we don’t recognize it for what it is, so how could we possibly identify it? Instead, we see and treat the symptoms of trauma. We see a new parent struggling with postpartum depression, and a doctor who prescribes drugs instead of nutritional balance in order to address hormones and mood. We see a new parent return to work after minimal parental leave, and get penalized for shirking their professional responsibilities as they adjust to a major life change. We see someone who has given birth unready to return to their pre-baby sex life, and a partner, friend, or family member say, “well your doctor cleared you for sex, didn’t they?” Consider, too, the way that any trauma in a growing child might be misunderstood and improperly treated over time. Where is the financial element in these social trends? There are layers and layers to this, so to oversimplify… drugs cost money, an inefficient workforce costs money, families in turmoil or separation cost money. Trauma impacts all of us, whether directly or indirectly. It takes a toll on our families and our societies if it continues on ignored. If we can properly prevent and heal individuals from their traumas, everyone benefits.
Remember that disclaimer I started with? I just want to remind you that you CAN do this! You can give birth, and you can parent! You are also capable of doing this without the input of an outside professional. But, we all like to feel heard, seen, and supported. Feeling heard, seen, and supported should not be a best case scenario, it should be a reality that you demand. A doula can help you create that reality, regardless of your intentions or preferences for labor. If for no other reason, consider a birth doula as a necessity – not a luxury – through the lens of trauma. As always, choose Love Over Fear. *This post does not include explicit discussion of how past traumas might be triggered in pregnancy, childbirth, and postpartum.  
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birth, doula, Healing, Intention, Loving Kindness, Practice
I’m sitting across from Sam, a new friend and one of the most animated and excitable individuals I have the joy of knowing. Sam talks with her hands. She stares off into space as she talks, the same way I sometimes do, as if she’s reading from an invisible teleprompter that helps her to articulate her consciousness. After she has taken the time to beautifully explain what she means, Sam also listens – like, really listens – and she asks – like, real meaningful questions. And so I’m sitting across from Sam, talking about being a doula, and studying and working with birth when she asks me… why? “I hear that you are doing this work because you’re responding to a need. I can see that need is real. But, if you could sum it up in just a few words or sentences, why do you do what you do?” I stare down at my coffee as I try to figure out, aside from the medical model, aside from the lack of perinatal care, aside from the limiting cultural narratives… why? I close my eyes. “I guess… it’s just so… human. Humanness.” I look up at Sam, her eyes are lit up and she’s gesturing for me to keep going, “Yes! This is great…” “Remembering how human we are. Birth is the divine feminine and masculine together. Just – human. Remembering that this is a part of what makes us human,” I finish, feeling a little unsure and pretty inarticulate. Sam doesn’t seem to mind my less-than-eloquent delivery, in fact she is pumped. In her animated response to my answer, Sam does this… well, thing. She mock-dislocates her shoulder, and pops it back in with her opposite hand as she says, “remember. Re-member.” Apparently this word carries a lot of weight for her right now, and I feel it too. “We are all just piecing ourselves back together,” she says. Re-member.  Memory is such a fickle thing to me, personally. I have a terrible memory. I often find myself fighting to remember. But, to re-member. Wow. That is exactly what I see happening when I attend births. That is what I try so desperately to help my clients to realize. They know how to do this already. It is part of their own humanness to know how to labor and how to birth. If they listen, if they trust – their bodies will tell them how to move, how to breathe, where to focus, and what to ask for from their labor support partner(s). Whether it is their first baby or third, they know. Likewise, those supporting them will know too, if they can tap into the ferociously human experience playing out around them. In the throes of labor, if they try to hard to remember in an analytical way (details of all of the books they read, classes they took, advice they got, etc.), then they will be overwhelmed. So this, re-membering, must be different. To re-member is to reintegrate yourself in a trusting, loving way. So much of what I consume related to birth culture is founded in fear and distrust. We either distrust our bodies and are afraid, so we hand over power to the medical model. Or, we distrust the medical model and are afraid, so we expend all of our energy in the countercultural fight for autonomy during childbirth. What if – regardless of our circumstances, regardless of how we choose to labor, regardless of how we choose to live – all we had to do was trust ourselves and re-member? Piece ourselves back together. Be fully human. Re-member. Imagine how empowering that would be.
I see similar themes on the yoga mat. What if we could re-member there, too?
Thank you to Samantha Rise for letting me use our conversation in this post! She is an artist and has a new album coming out this summer that I am sure will contain so many excellent human themes and ideas. Check her out @samantharisemusic on Facebook
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Healing, Honesty, Practice

Image and poem by Rupi Kaur.


I haven’t shared any of my writing in months. Not on this blog, not even privately with my friends. The past several months have been a period of serious transition for me. Catalyzed by the end of a meaningful romantic partnership, in the past four months I have moved, and I have begun following my heart down the path of birth work as a doula. I have also *gulp* began dating again. Through all of this exciting and positive change – through which I have accessed some serious self-empowerment – I have so much to process and share, and yet I have been silent. Why? I guess I didn’t want to admit that these changes were a result of a break up. That the end of my relationship had such an impact on my productivity. And, since I am still close to my former partner, I didn’t want him to be upset by any of the topics I might write about. I know, I know… When I expressed the above reasons to him last week, he was rightfully upset. “You have been silenced and your creative power has been stifled by almost every partner you have had, I don’t want to do the same,” he said, and encouraged me to write about whatever I damn like. Leave it to this special man, who I consider one of my gurus, to hit me with some seriously honest perspective. I hadn’t even considered that through all of the change I was experiencing, I was falling into the old habit of being silenced. Only this time, I couldn’t blame a partner, or a family member, or a teacher, or society at large for silencing me… I only had myself to blame. Why had I allowed myself to be silent? To suffer without sharing? Fear. It is always fear. This post is simply to say I will be exercising my voice through writing more regularly again. To say, hey, this part of me is still here. I won’t let fear hold me back from doing what I love most – sharing and connecting to others through honesty and written word.
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Healing, Honesty, Mind
#notokay #notokay #notokay Thank you, Donald Trump. No, really… thank you. If it weren’t for you, there wouldn’t be such a massive conversation around rape culture happening not just nationally, but globally. Thank you for being your authentic, complicated, problematic, violent, aggressive, despicable self in the public arena. Thank you for inadvertently pulling an ongoing conversation about rape culture into the limelight along with you, and giving it the attention it deserves. Also, thank you Kelly Oxford, among others on social media who invited women (and men! and transgendered people! and ALL PEOPLE!) to share their assault stories and instigated the #notokay movement. Politics aside; The questionable future of the US aside (though it’s hard to ignore)… There is something more important going on here. A nation is waking up. An entire body of people are being forced to realize that things are not okay. That not only do we silently accept and abide by rape culture daily, but that there are countless survivors who have been forced into silence. Why are so many silent? Because, rape culture.  Because we feel alone. Because we have been so consumed by the culture that surrounds us that we convince ourselves that our assault wasn’t a big deal. Because that very same culture tells us that rape and assault are something to be ashamed of. Because it’s easier to grin and bear it than it is to believe that our rights will be protected. Because petty criminals go to prison longer than rapists. Because we suppress it in order to survive. Because when we tell our story, even to a close friend or family member, we run the risk of being victim shamed or blamed. Because when that stranger calls us “babe” or worse, physically, aggressively, sexually approaches us… we freeze. Because when we organize an anti-rape culture rally, we are threatened by “male extremists.” Because our reality is that we may never feel safe in this life.  Although the comments made by Trump, and the social media attention that has followed can be extraordinarily triggering… we as a People needed to be triggered. And, as difficult as it is to own your experience as a survivor of sexual assault, more survivors need to speak up. This is not an occasional violation, it is a regular atrocity.  Two years ago, my memory was triggered by a powerful training experience, which inspired me to publish a piece of writing in which I owned up to an incident that occurred when I was 19-years-old (link here). At the time that I was writing this piece, I believed the rape referenced was my only repressed sexual assault. Over time, with support and with continued self-work, I have realized that my sexual trauma runs much deeper. The earliest sexual assault I can recall today occurred in 7th grade, at 12-years-old. A boy sat next to me in science class during a movie screening and put his hand in my pants and up my shirt. When class ended, I rushed over to a friend and told her what happened and she didn’t believe me, or maybe she just laughed it off. Unfortunately, the boy in question had the same class as me immediately after, and during that class he sat next to me again and continued to touch me. Why did this 12-year-old boy think it was okay to behave this way? Who taught him to do these things? And, equally as important… Why did no one teach me what to do if such an assault were to happen to me? Who to turn to? How to defend myself? We need to talk about rape culture in order to change it. We need to own up to our shared identity as survivors; we need to share our personal experiences, in order to reduce the stigma associated with sexual assault.  We need to teach our children about rape culture earlier in life (along with race relations, sexuality, and social sustainability… to name just a few). We should be educating our children far earlier about sexual assault and how to address it. We need to be talking about rape culture. Period. We need to stay angry. We need to stay inspired. We need to wake up and do something. Speak up. Act. Vote Smart. Respect. Compassion. Love. Don’t let this era be our last proud one as Americans, and as global citizens. You can help it get better from here, don’t sit back and allow it to get worse.
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BestSelf, Healing, Intention, Loving Kindness, Practice, Yoga
“Throughout class I will offer hands-on adjustments, if you are open to receiving adjustments during your practice, [turn your palms to the ceiling] now, and if you prefer not to be touched, stay as you are.” I say the above, or something similar, towards the beginning of any yoga class I teach during which I intend to give students physical adjustments. To me, this doesn’t seem revolutionary. More and more, yoga instructors are being taught or coming to realize that it is important to ask permission before touching their students. Not everyone wants to be touched every day, and there is an enormous list of possibilities as to why that might be – injury, trauma, bad mood, distractions. I am not going to address those possibilities in any detail here, instead I will discuss consent. I have been asking my students’ permission before giving adjustments for about a year, but recently I have shifted to using the consent-based language above. Why? Thanks to a workshop with Gwen Soffer (Enso Yoga) and Melissa Lucchesi (Voices Inc.) my eyes were opened to the distinction of consent (see resources at the bottom of this post for more information). Consent is empowering. Consent allows you to say, “yes,” as emphatically as you want, so that you don’t have to say, “no,” with any emphasis (or panic). In a culture that is hyper-sensitive to political correctness, we have somehow neglected the importance of consent.  The baseline assumption when you request anything of another person, should be that the answer will be “no.” I don’t say that to sound negative, I say that because unless they consent, unless they choose to answer “yes,” then you shouldn’t expect your request to be granted. In the US you are innocent until proven guilty, well, in this life your requests are denied until they are granted. When you are acting in relation to others – you need to ask – you can’t just act presumptuously. I mean… you can, but if you do, you’re probably being a privileged asshole. That being said, just because you ask for something doesn’t mean you will receive it. The baseline assumption when another person requests something of you, should NOT be that you are obligated to find a way to say “yes.” Saying “yes” doesn’t make you a better person, more generous, or cooler. Saying “yes” when you don’t want to is not only exhausting, but also, by saying “yes” when you don’t want to, you are surrendering your personal power. We tend to fall victim to social obligation, rather than practicing our right to consent. I truly believe there is no personal freedom greater than the power to give consent. So, back to the yoga classroom… Here are some of my thoughts about consent, lack thereof, and hands-on adjustments in class, based on my own personal experience as a student and a teacher. If a teacher asks permission before giving physical assists in any way, even without using consent-based language, I believe that is better than not asking at all. For example, I used to say, “Throughout class I will offer hands-on adjustments, if you prefer not to be touched [turn your palms to the ceiling] now.” This is almost the same as how I ask now, but it requires that those who do not want to be touched take action to opt out. This is not the same as giving consent. This assumes that everyone wants to be touched, except for those that don’t. It also puts those who are opting out in a potentially uncomfortable position. Similarly, I have also heard teachers mention at the start of class, “I will be giving assists during class, if anything feels uncomfortable, you are welcome to say no thank you.” Social obligation may drive students to accept unwanted assists, or to feel guilty about taking action to say “no.” It’s like walking around a party with a tray of hors d’oeuvres and handing them out to everyone instead of letting people choose to take one for themselves. All the party-goers take on that distinctly awkward body language as a deviled egg is shoved into their hand and they mumble, “oh, okay, thanks,” and then turn to their friend and say, “I really don’t want this,” and end up leaving it hidden in the foliage of the nearest houseplant. If a teacher only asks permission while in the process of giving an assist, I still believe that is better than not asking at all… but barely. The instructor’s hands are on the student and then they say, “does this feel okay?” In some cases, a student will reply “no,” but more often than not they just nod their head in agreement. I have to wonder how many students have grimaced through a painful or downright bad assist out of social obligation and a desire to placate their instructor.  Finally, there are teachers who do not ask permission at all to give hands-on assists. Some of these instructors are my friends, and some are my teachers. I still choose to take many of their classes, but I am practiced in letting go of social obligation, setting my own boundaries, and saying “no,” and that is not the case with most students. Some of the reasons I have heard to justify giving hands-on assists without asking permission include:
  1. Two fold…
    1. “If a student comes to my class, they know they will be adjusted.” What about new students? What about students you know but have a new injury, or are in a bad mood, or just want their freakin’ space today? I can tell you from my own experience that there are certain teachers that I know will adjust me if I am in class, and when I am having a day that I don’t want to be touched, I don’t go to their class.
    2. “If they don’t want to be adjusted, they can just go to a different class.” Sigh. Well, shit.
  2. “I can just sense whether someone wants to be touched or not. I can sense their energy.” Even the most wonderful, in tune, energetically aware instructors have been blinded by their own ego and presumptions and given me assists that were unwanted. That is, before I learned to say “no.” Please please please, instructors, keep your ego in check on this one.
  3. “I’ve been teaching for so long, I’m not going to change the way I do things now.” Well that’s just a stupid excuse. The yoga practice is one of self-awareness and personal growth. If you have decided that you will continue to not ask permission before giving adjustments, fine, but at least come up with a justifiable reason.
I ask my instructor friends to join me in questioning why we approach adjustments in the way that we do. Is it our place to give hands-on assists? Should we ask for permission, and if so, how/when? What is the real purpose behind each and every assist? When might we be causing more harm than good? How much of how we view assists is our own stuff/ego? What might we be putting on our students? How can we best serve every student who walks into our classes? Historically, this conversation has gotten pretty heated. It is difficult to consider that we might be harming our students or making them uncomfortable when we have the best of intentions. Just try to take the time to reflect on consent-based physical assists. Whether or not it resonates with you as a teacher or practitioner, I believe that we owe it to our students. The teacher-student dynamic inherently has a power hierarchy, and as teachers, we need to take every precaution not to strip our students of their personal power. Consent is a personal freedom. Let’s give it back to our students.
Click the Links Below for More Resources: Affirmative Consent Arrives in Yoga Studios Permission Stones Trauma Informed Lens – Gwen Soffer and Melissa Lucchesi      
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