First Birth

As alluded to in my previous post, I spent New Year's Eve helping a young woman give birth. I'm bound by confidentiality and can't give details on the birth itself but I can describe what the experience has done for me.

First I should say that it was the most awesome way to celebrate the new year. I find the whole New Year phenomenon to be a little self-indulgent. A lot of time spent thinking and talking about how the year has effected us and how we want our lives to be better in the next year. Previously my best times on New Year's Eve was when I used to do the Midnight Run with my sister. That felt very healthy and positive--like I was already starting the New Year doing something good for myself instead of one last night of debauchery before submitting to my resolutions.

This was a completely different experience because I felt I was doing something important. I really can't stress that enough. In general I feel I do many important things with my life and my research but very little has compared with staying in the moment for 18 hours of someone else's labor. This young woman, through a number of unfortunate circumstances, had no one else to be with her during her birth and she was scared. While she had nurses and doctors--who were mostly wonderful and helpful--they were in and out of the room. Pumpkin and I stayed with her, comforted her, massaged her, encouraged her and kept her focused. No matter how tired I got (and I got plenty tired) or how bad I felt about bailing on b on New Year's Eve (he rang in the new year with Pumpkin's boyfriend), I couldn't shake the feeling that it was critically important to be in that room and by her side.

The act of touching, physically touching, is incredibly important to me. This is not at all apparent when you first meet me. I tend to be physically stand-offish until I get to know you. With some people I never get affectionate. I'm not a "casual toucher." I don't give fake kisses or superficial pats on the arm. If I give you a hug, you know you've been hugged and I believe strongly in the art of holding hands. One of the most painful aspects of Angel moving out has been his reluctance to be touched or hugged. More important to the current story, when I see someone in pain it is really hard for me NOT to touch them. Some women don't like to be touched when they are in labor. I think that will be a very difficult birth for me. This woman was shy about asking for touches and massages but they ended up bringing her great comfort. However, as her labor progressed, holding our hands became a ritualistic necessity. It is amazing to think that holding someone's hand can be that important but it was.

I thought witnessing the actual birth would be the most life-altering part for me. It was an amazing moment and I'm glad I got the opportunity to see a baby emerge into the world. However I wasn't filled with joy and wonder. Instead I felt relief--relief that her pain had finally ended. I realized later this was exactly how I felt when Angel was born. His father was overjoyed and filled with love for this new person but all I could feel was merciful relief. It was much later in the day before I had that moment of awe while holding Angel. I also did not feel any desire to hold this baby. He was cute and sweet as could be but I've realized I'm really not doing this for the baby. My loyalty, concern, and admiration was all for the mother. Mothering is incredibly hard work--it starts with birthing but doesn't really get any easier. I keep seeing more and more organizations and movements that call upon mothers to create social change but there are so few organizations that truly support mothers and motherhood. Public concern for mothers is thinly disguised concern for babies and children. Being a doula is one way that I feel I can directly support mothers.

In addition to being my first birth, this experience was especially meaningful because I did it with Pumpkin. Our original plan was for the four of us to quietly ring in the new year and then have my family's traditional New Year's Day dinner before Pumpkin moved away to graduate school on Saturday. While that would have been a lovely way to say good-bye, the time we spent in that birthing room took our relationship to another level. No matter where life takes her, this is something we will always share.

Pumpkin did an incredible job. We had very different but complimentary styles and I was amazed at all of the facts and techniques that she remembered from the training. In some ways it was harder for her having never given birth but she was also much closer to this woman's age and I think could relate to her in ways that are no longer possible for me. All-in-all I think we were a great team and while I definitely can see ways I can improve for the future, we gave this woman a positive birth experience.

Motherhood

My research is very applied. That means I do research on specific issues in order to develop ways to intervene with those issues. I then develop an actual intervention and evaluate how well it works.

Two of my current research topics involves mothering. Yesterday was the first meeting of some intervention work I'm doing in the community with mothers. It is a slow process and will probably take many years before (if) it sees fruition. In the meantime, I really enjoy my mothers.

I was driving to the community site to set up for the group and heard my phone ring deep inside my bag on the back seat. I hate talking on the phone while I drive and couldn't reach it, so I figured it could wait until I got to my destination. Not five minutes later it rang again. Either someone really wanted me or two people wanted me--either one indicates something is up (I'm not a big phone person so I don't get a lot of calls).

I parked outside of the location and dug around for my phone. First call was from Angel; second from b. Only b left a message. It was "call me at work." When I called he started with "First, your son is ok..." So not a good start of a phone call but a good way to convey bad news.

And it really wasn't that bad. Angel fell while playing soccer and split his chin (6 stitches) and broke his wrist. He had been to Urgent Care but still needed to see an Orthopedist for a cast. I hung up with b and called Angel to get the full story and give some motherly attention. I guess it was the long distance/grown-up version of kissing the boo-boo.

Then I went inside and met with my mothers.

Letting Go

Boy is away visiting his father for 3 weeks. When he comes back we'll have 6 weeks before he goes away to college. So this trip away is kind of a "test run" for b and I. He's certainly been away for 3 weeks before. Last year he went to Vancouver for 3 weeks. He often goes to visit his father for 2 or 3 week at a time. But this feels different....because it's a test run.

Boy has been doing his best to get on my last nerve for the past 2 months. I know this is normal and healthy but it is amazingly annoying. We're doing our best to handle it with humor. I told him it was my job to make him want to leave home and it was his job to make me want him to leave. My job is done, his job is probably impossible.

But he's taken it to heart and is giving it his best shot. Boy has always liked long drawn out discussions. Usually we see eye-to-eye. Occasionally we disagree and get into debates that contain humor, teasing, and some deep thought. I love talking to Boy. He's got my family's conversation style down pat. Lately however, he's been needling me. He'll sucker me into one of these conversations and start being contrary--saying anything to get my goat. This is how his father argues. I divorced his father.

It is usually pretty difficult to get under my skin. I can stay annoyingly unruffled but Boy can get to me every time. And yet I miss him. I'd rather have him here--generating dirty dishes in the middle of the night; leaving puddles on the bathroom floor; attacking me on environmental stances he doesn't even hold--than anywhere else in the world.

Worse yet, he alternates needling with being needy. I know he's nervous because he requires a lot of hugs lately. He shows this by standing next to me and throwing his arms wide open until I come in for a hug. He comes in and lies on my bed when I'm reading to talk and snuggle. He's been bringing up random memories from when he was little.

A few months ago, before all this behavior started, he was working two jobs and we barely saw him. When we did see him he was tired but friendly. It was kind of like having a roommate you really like but rarely see. b and I began to get used to alone time and I, foolishly, thought this letting him go away to college wouldn't be so hard. But then he quit one job and the other job got quiet. He was around a lot and I'm around a lot (because it's summer and I don't have to go into the office). We started going to the gym together. He came back to the dojo with me. We took Pupzilla on long walks together (him needling me all the while).

I got used to him being around all over again. Now he's not here but I know he'll be back and then he won't be here. I know this will play out for the next few years, each time him needing me to be there less and less. "A mother has to be there to be left." I've heard it before and I know it's true but man does it suck being the mother.

Other People's Agendas

I like To Do lists. I think it is inherited. I remember my mother making her daily list as I was growing up. The first thing she would put on the list was "Make List." She said this way she could cross it off as soon as she was done.

Someone told me years ago that the secret to time management was to recognize items on your list that are "other people's agendas" and to put them at the bottom of the list. I'm fairly good at doing that. Sometimes "other people's agendas" items pile up and I have no choice but to devote an entire day to clearing them.

April feels like "other people's agendas" month.

Last night I stayed up late just to read a transcript from my beloved research project. I miss her (yes my research projects are all female) like a best friend.