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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BestSelf, Honesty, Intention, Practice
Mis-gendering has been a running shtick for centuries. From Shakespeare to Netflix and everywhere in between, you can find comic relief in the form of gender bending and misunderstanding. Imagine a shot in a film where we only see the back of someone’s head. Our protagonist walks up behind the person and says, “excuse me, sir,” only for the person to turn around infuriated because they are clearly a “ma’am.” Cue nervous laughter from the audience. Misunderstanding, tension, comic relief. What is funny to me about this shtick (though, not laugh out loud funny) is that we never know a person’s gender by simply looking at them. This situation could be avoided by using gender neutral language. And if you’re thinking, “but Jenna, it’s just a stupid comedic set-up,” my response is two-fold:
  1. Comedy writers, you can do better than that.
  2.  That was just a relatable example of something that happens all the time every day, even when people don’t pick up on the misunderstanding or the tension.
If people, in general, can relate to how uncomfortable it is for a “ma’am,” to be called, “sir,” then why do we have such trouble dropping gender-assumptive language? Yes, the gender binary is deeply ingrained, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t put forth the effort to make a change. In fact, I believe we can’t afford not to put in the effort to make gender neutral language common practice. The thing is, when we see someone in passing and casually gender them – whether in our own head or out loud – by using a gender-assumptive pronoun, designation, or colloquialism we are doing more than just “harmlessly” assuming… we are also assigning identity markers to that person. While a person can otherwise choose particular markers as a form of self-identification, in this context identity markers are perceived attributes assigned to a person in order to contextualize their status and role in society. Examples of identity markers are race, ethnicity, language, gender, age, religion, socioeconomic class, education, marital status, etc. So often people use these markers to describe another person to a friend, family member, or colleague… and much of the time at least some of the information shared is assumed based on perceived identity markers. We say, “She/he/they grew up in ____ neighborhood,” or, “she/he/they are married to a man who _____,” or, “she/he/they are 62 and go to church every Sunday.” We should think critically about what others read into when we use these markers (and also why we might be more likely to use an identity marker to describe someone than their personality or passions). Identity markers are loaded – especially when they are assigned or presumed – because of their cultural significance. Gender is a tricky marker, because it is invisible. It should never be assumed. 
If you are new to learning about gender, here is a quick Gender 101: Gender is not defined by a individual’s genitals, sexuality, body type, hairstyle, body/facial hair, clothing, pitch of voice, lifestyle, beliefs, childbearing history, presence/absence of menstruation, etc. Gender is defined by the individual, based on how they relate to their lived experience. This means you cannot see/hear gender. Sex is what is between your legs, and gender is what is between your ears. Also, as a prerequisite for Gender 102: understand that gender is a spectrum, not a binary – there are more genders than just masculine and feminine. The language as it relates to biology and identity can get quite personal and subjective, so we will save that for another day. 
To assume someone’s gender, especially if assuming their gender within the binary (i.e. masculine or feminine), is to box them into a whole set of preconceived cultural ideas about how they “should” be and behave. It also strips a person of the freedom to self-identify, which can be extremely disempowering. This happens all day, all the time. It is a habit I have been trying to break myself of, and encourage those closest to me to examine as well. Maybe you’re wondering how to start breaking the habit of automatically gendering others. Maybe you’re still not clear what I mean, or how this even shows up in every day life. Here are some practical ways to start realizing the importance of gender-neutral language, and put it into practice.
  1. When you meet someone new, wait until you know a their gender before using gender-assuming or gender-affirming pronouns (she/her/hers; he/him/his; they/them/their; ze/zir; etc.), designations (sir, ma’am, father, mother, parent, etc.), and colloquialisms (dude, lady, man, mama, etc.).
    1. How will you know the person’s gender, if not by sight? Wait for… the person to blatantly self-identify, “Hi, I’m Jenna, I prefer they/their pronouns.”
    2. Or… ask what pronouns they use. Make it a practice to introduce yourself by following your name with your pronouns, and then ask the same of the other person.
    3. Feels too new, uncomfortable, or unsafe? …wait to pick up on a gender-related identity marker, whether you hear them refer to themselves, or another person marks them (just be mindful that the other person could be mis-gendering your new friend).
  2. It doesn’t matter what your new friend looks or sounds like. It doesn’t matter where you met them. Gender isn’t visible. Unless they are wearing their pronouns on a name tag, refer to step 1. Safe spaces are improved upon by informed allies.
  3. When identifying someone in a narrative avoid assigning a gender. Maybe you just saw someone juggling while riding a unicycle down Main Street and you really want to tell your friend! Rather than, “I just saw a man juggling while riding a unicycle down Main Street.” Try, “I just saw a person juggling while riding a unicycle down Main Street.”
    1. Want to add more details to your story? Use gender neutral pronouns! “He had a tie-dye vest on.” –> “They had a tie-dye vest on.”
    2. The person on the unicycle ends up in line at the same coffee shop as you and you start chatting (but haven’t identified your genders yet) and someone else in line asks how you met? Don’t panic. It’s easy, “I saw them just now riding down Main Street and we started chatting.”
  4. Replace your gender-assumptive habits with new ones! Maybe you always say, “Hey ladies,” when you start out a team meeting at work and everyone in the room appears to be feminine because it helps you feel more immediately connected to the group.  Remember that you may be assuming someone’s gender. Find something else that connects you all – it can still be casual and fun – “Hey team,” or, “Hey party people!”
    1. You can be your authentic self without tip-toeing around!
    2. You just have to compassionately consider that everyone is having their own unique human experience, and deserves the right to own their gender identity. I all-but-guarantee you, if you sit with it, it will start to feel less important to always use that gender-exclusive language you’ve grown so attached to.
  5. If you own or operate a business that asks for personal information, including gender, revise your forms to be inclusive. If you’re not sure how, it’s always a safe bet to just write “Gender: ______________ Pronouns:_____________,” and then just let folks fill it in as they’d like.
  6. If you are a cisgender ally still struggling to understand why it is important to erase gender-assumptive language habits from your daily life… think of how you feel when someone incorrectly calls you, “sir,” or “ma’am,” (if it’s ever happened to you before)… and now imagine that happening every single day. That’s what it can feel like as a transgender, nonbinary, or gender non-conforming person.
  7. If you are a cisgender ally desperately trying to integrate gender-neutral language and habits into your daily life, and it feels really hard… Keep doing your best! We all make mistakes. Seriously. We all mess this up. Correct yourself in the moment when you can, “I saw this man – uh – person juggling while riding a unicycle down Main Street,” or “he – uh – they live downtown.” Gracefully pick yourself up if you make a mistake, and keep on trying!
    1. Don’t remind the transgender, nonbinary, or gender non-conforming folks in your life how hard it is to avoid misgendering them, though. Don’t express that them being themselves is a burden on you.
    2. You got this!
Making gender-neutral language a common practice is a great way to show love, compassion, and respect for everyone around you, so that those living in fear of being misunderstood or unseen are reminded that their is a place for them in your circle. 
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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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BestSelf, Intention, Practice
Remember this date: January 21st, 2017 – When an estimated 3.5-4.5 MILLION people showed up in 550 US cities and towns, and more than 100 towns overseas to participate in the Women’s March (source: The Atlantic, although numbers are still being reported and evaluated). Now, because it is an exceedingly difficult task to gather sound data on such a widespread event, from here on I will only be able to speak to my personal experience. I marched on 1/21/17 in Philadelphia alongside my family and friends. The experience was overwhelmingly positive. People were angry, they were vocal, but they were peaceful and pleasant. The majority of those I saw participating in Philadelphia were white women. From other accounts, this trend seemed to be the same across the board. It was a matter of hours before criticisms of the Women’s March were popping up online. Demographics. Imagery. Intention. Attitude. All are worth considering critically. Why were there so few people of color? Was the planning phase of the march exclusive and/or inaccessible? Why were there so few Transgender and gender non-conforming people? Was the use of female anatomical imagery exclusive? How much of a role did the hive-mind of social media play in the impressive attendance? Did those in attendance really think about what they were showing up to do? Of course, the sheer attendance itself left an impression, and if that impression is powerful enough to enact positive change… well, I’m tempted to say who cares what anyone’s intentions were?! Except… big except. This cannot be a one-off thing. We need change – real change – and its only increasing in demand with each day of the Trump Presidency. Protest and civil disobedience are the most public and visually powerful ways to express this need for change. But, the greatest amount of pressure isn’t on the (anecdotal) majority of those who attended the Women’s March. White women will certainly be impacted by Trump’s policies, actions, and hateful words, but our whiteness will always carry privilege in Trump’s America. For those that participated in the Women’s March because it was #trending, it will be all too easy to return to the day-to-day and not think about the state of current events again until the next #bigthing that floods their Facebook feed. They showed up at the Women’s March because it felt safe. Everyone else was doing it. I want to clarify that if you fall into this category, my intention is not to shame you. My intention is to call you back into action. You did an amazing thing by showing up on 1/21/17, now keep your momentum up!  I know, I know… it’s exhausting. With no condescension, I know how exhausting it is. But you are in a position to do some real good, simply because you were privileged enough to be born white. So for the sake of playing devil’s advocate, why wouldn’t a white woman (such as myself) want to show up at, say, the next Black Lives Matter protest even though they support the movement? A threatened sense of safety. Right? It must be. We Society convinces ourselves us that it’s those kinds of protests that get violent. At those protests there are arrests and tear gas and anger. It’s far less civilized then then sea of pink pussy hats at the Women’s March. We want to support BLM, but our parents would be worried if we attended a Black Lives Matter protest, wouldn’t they? There is obviously a misconception here. You can’t make a sweeping statement that all events associated with a particular interest group get violent. You might be able to look at the probability of violence at one event versus another – but if you do, you have to consider the “why.” Could it be that Black Lives Matter/Socialist/Pride/etc. protests get violent because of the socially-constructed relationship between those in attendance and law enforcement/local politicians/people in power? Could it be that simply by showing up as a white woman, and being there as an ally, the chances of violence will actually decrease? That law enforcement is less likely to be activated by a mixed-race, mixed-gender, mixed-class congregation? To be perfectly blunt, could it be that as a young white American-born person, presenting as female, from an upper-middle class background, I am less likely to be shot by a police officer than my black male friend? Shouldn’t I stand at the front line and use that privilege to keep things from getting violent? (I am speaking to white men here, too, FYI). I understand that not everyone is comfortable with social activism, even if they are in alignment with a cause. If ever there was a time to put yourself in that uncomfortable place, it’s now. I understand that fear is all too real right here and now. There are ways to get involved that don’t put your physical being in immediate risk. Number one – Stay present to what is going on; educate yourself. And not just through the articles that pop up on your social media feeds. Number two – talk to people. And not just people who look and think like you do. Then, you choose. Take action in a way that works for you. Challenge your comfort level, though. Pick up the phone and call local representatives. Run for local office. Attend community meetings. Donate to an organization doing work you believe in, whether you donate time or money. Put yourself out there. Put yourself out there for the Love of those who are not so privileged. Get angry. Feel all the feels. Let the Fear overwhelm you. Then, take care of yourself (eat well, sleep lots, go to therapy, practice yoga, journal, and so on… this is a marathon, not a sprint) so that you can detach from that Fear and show up as your BestSelf for the Love of humanity. 
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