On Doulas and Dissertations

Many before me have made the analogy between completing your dissertation and giving birth.  I think the analogy has a lot of merit but recently I've made the connection between being a doula and being a dissertation advisor.

• Supporting someone in labor, whether it be a with a baby or a dissertation, is grueling and rewarding work.
• Before true labor begins, neither the pregnant woman nor the doctoral candidate can really fathom what the process will be like.  As doula/advisor you try and describe it but you know that half your words are falling on deaf ears.
• During labor both the pregnant woman and the doctoral candidate want it to be over.  It is your job to hold their hand while helping them forward.
• Both declare they will never do this again.  The pregnant woman may swear off sex.  The doctoral candidate usually develops elaborate fantasies about the non-intellectual career (mine was living on a mountain top, stockpiling arms and teaching martial arts to the local children) they will start as soon as it is all over.  It is your job to take these declarations seriously and not laugh in their face.  
• There is much effort but the glory is not yours.  Luckily neither is the pain.

There are, of course, significant differences. The most important one is:

• The pregnant woman has the choice of using drugs or not.  As a doula it is your job to support a woman regardless of her choice.  As a doctoral advisor it is best to keep the student sober, at least until it is all over.

At The Hospital

It's 3:40am and I'm in labor & delivery waiting on a baby.

Yesterday I was at a wedding in the mountains.

The day before that I was eating in my favorite restaurant with b and Angel.

Crazy weekend.

RBOC: Procrastination Edition

• I have had several serious posts in my head all week but no time to write them.  Today I seem to be doing everything possible to avoid grading the second half of a stack of student papers.  The result is an RBOC post.
• Last night I heard both sad and bad news for other people.  There is nothing I can do about the news except listen.
• The Brute has taken to peeing in Pupzilla's food bowl.  Yesterday he did it while her leftover breakfast still in it.  
• This afternoon I met with my latest doula-mom and her husband.  They are very cute and sweet and made me an incredibly delicious lunch with fresh baked buns and pie!
• I have plans for this to be the Summer of Yoga.  I cannot wait for the semester to end.
• I have developed a "bad attitude" towards work.  The trip to Emerald City did wonders for my mood but my attitude hasn't budged a bit from "evil."
• We have a faculty meeting this week and I'm going to try my best to keep my mouth shut and my evil attitude tucked safely inside.
• b was away doing a training this weekend.  The training happened to be in the same city that Angel lives in, so they met for dinner tonight.  I wish I was there.
• Smudge has taken up residence under the covers on my side of the bed.  Sleeping with a nose full of cat hair is no fun indeed.
• After days of thunderstorms, some spring weather showed up this afternoon.  I spent it sitting on my back patio looking up birthing videos (yeah, I know how to have fun).  
• As nice as it is in my backyard, I really enjoy the evening sun at the front of the house. 

Looking in the kitchen window

Looking out the kitchen window

RBOC: Update Edition

• We are two weeks into the semester and my To Do list doesn't fit on one page.
• I have many social engagements lined up for the next few weeks which really won't help my To Do list problem.
• I'm on a search committee for two positions and the first two candidates are coming in the next two weeks.
• I have found the first negative of our new house and it has 6 legs, antennas and reminds me of some bad times in my childhood.  b and I are going to the store tomorrow to find ways of destroying said creatures.  Two have been spotted and killed so far.  Both were killed by humans and not felines (just sayin').
• The birth has finally happened.  It was my longest one so far.  I spent 27 hours in a hospital and got about 4 hours of sleep in a 48 hour period.  However everyone is doing well and I am very happy to NOT have to fall asleep with my phone beside my bed for a while.
• I went to a self-defense workshop taught by my tai chi sifu today.  He teaches about one workshop a month.  Sometimes it is push hands, sometimes it is tai chi sword, and sometimes it is chi gung.  This time it was self-defense, which mostly consisted of learning how to fall.  It is important stuff but I can't say I liked it.
• b and I are in a bit of a martial arts quandary.  I think want we want really doesn't exist anymore.  Certainly doesn't seem to exist in SouthLite. 
• b and I went to see The Social Network tonight.  We enjoyed it.  Afterwards I was craving cupcakes but b had the brilliant idea of going out for cocktails and chocolate mousse.  Yes my friends, this is why I married him.
• On tomorrow's agenda is : gym, food shopping, sitting in front of a fire and getting some work done, eating ribs cooked by my sweetie.  Life is good.

Owning Your Own Time

When I talk to women who are actively mothering one of their biggest complaints is the lack of "me time."  Being responsible for a small person (or persons) severely reduces the amount of time you can claim as your own.  This seems like a no-brainer until you actually experience it.

The early days of new motherhood are usually overwhelming and surprising.  You're not sure where you're time goes but you are busy falling and being in love.  While I wouldn't say that love fades, there does come a point where you expect to get your life and at least some of your time back but you don't.

Motherhood is also frequently discussed in terms of conflicting demands.  Whatever else you are supposed to be doing (or want to be doing or are compelled to be doing) in addition to mothering your child(ren) is suddenly done less or less well.  Generally speaking, mothers feel their job/craft/art/passion is not getting the attention and time it deserves.  Unfortunately, no matter how much you give them, neither are your children (or at least so it seems).  It is not surprising, therefore, that time for yourself gets the shortest end of this three-sided stick.

But what exactly is "me time?"  For some women it may be the time given to their craft/art/passion (rarely the "job" but possibly the career); for others it is socializing time; possibly shopping or self-care (many women I speak with fantasize about baths and pedicures); for some it is leisure pursuits such as reading or exercise; for some it may even by spending time with their child(ren) that does not include responsibilities.  However I don't think "me time" is defined by an activity or a set of activities but rather by the ability to own your own time; to set a schedule or itinerary around your own desires and needs and not someone else's needs or agenda.

Whether you use "me time" for something that exclusively benefits you is probably irrelevant.  I think it is the power to decide how your time is going to be used and to be able to follow through on that decision.  I think it is the ability to make that decision without guilt or shame or without mentally rejecting the guilt or shame associated with it.

As painful as the adjustment to an empty nest was for me, I am now realizing how freeing it is to truly own my own time.  I count myself particularly lucky (and privileged) to have a career that further extends the agency I have to create my own schedule.  Academia comes with a lot of challenges but a definite perk is that most of my agenda is self-created.

I live with one person who, as a competent adult, does not rely on me for basic necessities nor does he expect me to alter my schedule to meet his needs.  While compromises are made for the sake of the relationship and companionship, his daily needs are not my responsibility; my time is not his to dictate.  Even when Angel became old enough for this to be true for him, the years of mother-training and the obligation I felt (and if I'm completely honest, still feel) towards him and the relationship, did not relieve this burden.

My pets do rely on me for the necessities of their daily life but their needs are so meager that they do not significantly control my time.  And as I mentioned, my job has a great deal of flexibility.  My students certainly demand of my time and attention; the responsibility I feel towards them shapes the way I allocate my time.  Likewise other demands of academia (i.e. committee work) effects my daily schedule and can significantly decrease my sense of "me time."  In fact my stress level is highest when I feel my time is spent on other people's agendas instead of my own, even when I buy into these alternative agendas.

This issue of "me time" has come to the forefront of my thoughts because I've spent the past 2-3 weeks anticipating a birth.  When I am serving as a doula and my "client-mom" is in her window-of-delivery, I don't feel I can really call my time my own.  I feel reluctant to make certain plans or obligations because I want to be available for the birth.  I need to think about what I am doing and what I would need to reschedule should she go into labor that day or the next.  Everything I expect to do (or want to do) on a given day can be completely obliterated without any real notice.  This is something I got used to when Angel was small but I realize now that I have very quickly become un-used to it.

The schools here in SouthLite had about a week of closures due to the last snowstorm.  This effected me only slightly.  It delayed when I could teach my first class and curtailed my activities to my house instead of my office for one day.  For a friend and colleague with school-aged children, it rearranged her entire week.  Another week has since passed and she still has not recovered.

I love being a doula in part because I enjoy being needed.  I like helping people and it is a very concrete way of being helpful and supportive.  For approximately 10-12 hours I can give someone my undivided attention and it can make a huge difference in how they experience their birth.  I also like the time spent with clients leading up to the birth.  I like helping women sort out their feelings and thoughts on birth; being a sounding board and an educator; and mostly importantly, helping to relieve some of the stress and anxiety many women experience anticipating labor.  However the more accustomed I get to owning the majority of my own time, the harder it gets to freely give that up for another person.  

After A Few Minor Setbacks We Settle In

Settling into the new and improved House of Dirt and Rocks has not been without its share of bumps. Most of these bumps have come in the past 48 hours.  Two days ago, after a very restless night that deprived b of most of his sleep, Pupzilla relieved her stomach of all its contents.  Shortly afterwards we noticed that she had broken out in hives and a large cyst was found on her ankle. Many hours and dollars later, the emergency vet confirmed b's original diagnosis of an allergic reaction to what was most likely an insect bite (we suspect a spider).  She was given medication and lots of fluids (as she was pretty dehydrated) and sent home to rest.

The next morning b made the critical mistake of requesting a drama-free day.  He went off to work and I went off to run multiple errands.  One of the errands was to drop off the keys to our old house. Also on my list was to make an extra copies of the keys for the new house as the landlord had only given us one set.  Somewhere on my meandering route around SouthLite that one set of keys dislodged themselves from my keyring and escaped.  I discovered this hours later when trying to get into the house with bags of groceries.  I spent the next hour retracing my steps to no avail.  b thought he could get into the house and left work to give it a try.  His love of cat-burglar movies paid off and he successfully broke into our own house.   Unfortunately that didn't solve the key problem and I had to drive an hour and a half each way to the neighboring city where my landlord lives to get a new set.

Last night, although exhausted from all these shenanigans, I stayed up to work on my syllabus. Just a short hour after my head hit the pillow my phone went off.  It was my latest doula client. She isn't due for another 10 days but was convinced she was in labor.  I was dubious.  I met her at the hospital where we waited for over 3 hours (due to someone else's emergency c-section) for the midwife to inform her that she was not in labor yet and send her home with words of encouragement.

In spite of the last 48 hours, I am happy to report that we are happily settled in.  There are still pictures and curtains to hang and a scary mudroom to organize but we have working appliances (well some just barely...there are a few purchases in our future) and the boxes have been both emptied and carted away.

Behold the House of Dirt and Rocks (aka The Tikki Lounge):

Front View

Back View (what once was a shed)

Backyard

Back View

Side View

b's Latest Love

Pupzilla Settling In

Kitchen

More Kitchen

Bar

Pupzilla on her couch

Hallway

Smudge in the office

The Brute in the bedroom

Scary Mudroom

Empty Guest Room

More Empty Guest Room

More Scary Mudroom

Pupzilla patiently waiting for me to stop the picture-taking nonsense and finish making dinner.

Long Night, Sweet Reward

I left my house last night at approximately 11pm and headed towards the hospital.  I had received a call from my latest doula client.  This is the first time I've "douled" (can that be a verb?) for someone who delivered before their due date.  I hadn't been expecting it but when my cellphone rang at 9pm it crossed my mind that my plans (primarily for some reading and an early bedtime) might be changing.  And they did.

I made it back home at 3pm this afternoon.  Mom and baby are both doing well. There was stress and drama and the sweet sweet reward of seeing a baby come into the world and a new family form. I don't want to talk about the details of the birth (it would be inappropriate) but rather share some thoughts that occurred to me throughout the night and day.

This experience was different in many ways.  It was not through the community agency where I volunteer but instead was a very friendly acquaintance.  It was the first time I worked for a couple and neither one of them was a teenager or a young adult.  Working with a couple, and especially a couple that is close to my age, was interesting in ways I had never imagined.  I don't put myself in the place of my clients--childbirth seems long behind me--but this couple's relationship reminded me of mine and b's.  The dad is a very sweet and caring man and they appear to be completely compatible.  There was much joking going on in the early parts of the night and then again when pain had subsided.  There was a comfort and tenderness between the two that was beautiful to watch.  I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to have had a baby with b.

It also took me a little while to figure out how to best support a couple as opposed to a single mom.  In all of my previous births, although friends and family may have been present, my role as the primary support was clear.  Now I know this may not always be the case and in at least one experience the father showed up halfway through the process and ended up taking on the role, but the dynamic was very different last night.  At first I found it difficult to support without getting in the way.  Other times I felt I was late to support or provided inadequate support because I wasn't as in sync with the mother as I usually am.  Eventually I think we reached a groove that worked and, most importantly, the mother felt supported.  The father also felt supported and that role (of supporting the support person) was new to me.

It is also a little different being involved in such an intimate experience (which I consider an honor and a privilege) with someone that you know but not all that well. With my other experiences I didn't know the mother at all and knew I would not be seeing her again after my post-partum visit.  However I will continue to see at least the dad in this couple on occasion.  As I said, we are friendly acquaintances but not really friends.  However I have now experienced something with this couple that no one else (except the doctors and nurses) has experienced.  There is a raw level of intimacy that gets shoved back under the cover of politeness in the days following a birth.

The more births I am involved with, the more I see the culture of birthing has really changed.  What was before a very private event has become a lot more public.  In every birth I've attended there has been at least one friend or family member who "popped in" for a visit during labor.  Hospitals (at least the ones around here) now have a very open policy about visitors during labor.  When I gave birth only immediate family members were allowed and I only ever heard of the father being in the labor and delivery room with the mother.  Now, in addition to doulas, you may have grandmothers, grandfathers, sisters, brothers, and friends.  Some stay for the entire event and others drop in and out to say hi and visit as you would expect after the baby is born.

Some of my clients seem to really like this and others seem less comfortable with the drop-in. Personally I like the inclusion of additional support people (grandparents, siblings, doulas, etc.) but only if they are committed to staying throughout the birth.  I believe a laboring woman should have whoever she wants with her when she gives birth but I also know that who you think you want with you and who you really want with you may be two very different things.  More importantly, each birth develops its own rhythm.  There is a pace and an atmosphere that develops as the birth unfolds that is offset by a drop-in.  It often feels to me like a blast of cold air and I believe it can upset the process.  Of course it can also serve as a helpful distraction.  Ultimately I realize that it is not my call for any individual mother but it can also be hard to determine if the mother really wants this person or people to stay.  Women remain erringly polite, in my book, during birth.  They don't want to offend and I believe the drop-in phenomenon may make the birthing room a less emotionally safe and open place for a woman.

RBOC: Wiped Out Edition

• I just got home from assisting in my third birth.  Mom and baby are doing super fine.
• I know all babies are cute but this one was exceptionally attractive.  
• One more birth and I can put in my certification packet.
• I can't imagine watching a person come into the world can ever get old.
• I can't imagine ceasing to be amazed by the strength and fortitude of a woman in labor.
• I left the hospital this morning feeling grateful that a woman allowed me to share such an intimate and critical moment in her life.  
• I haven't slept in many hours but am currently too wired to think of sleeping.  b and I are going out for a big egg breakfast instead.
• If you have any doubt that times have changed you need to see the amount of cellphone calls and texting that goes on in a delivery room now.  
• It also boggles my mind that a baby's picture can be on Facebook before the mom has finished delivering the afterbirth. 
• The last two bullets may have something to do with being in delivery rooms with young moms but I wouldn't bet my life on it. 
• My next birth isn't until September and that seems like a very good thing right now. 

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.

Survived Another Thursday

Thursdays are my killer days this semester. Today started with a 9 am meeting with a consultant (paid by the training grant that is funding me this year--which is a godsend in many ways) to give me feedback on my grant application. This was my first meeting with this woman. Several people have told me how wonderful she is and I'm happy to say they were absolutely right. In half an hour she gave me more concrete and helpful suggestions (along with an edited hardcopy) on the application than anyone else has given me in the past 6 months I've been working on it. What she suggested made perfect sense and completely solved a problem I've been struggling with for a while now. She wants another draft by December, which is totally doable. Due to changes in NIH guidelines I have to cut the grant in half. She told me to only cut what I think is absolutely necessary (about a third she said) and she will tell me where to cut from there.

She also confirmed that the grant is going to hinge upon me and my partner getting several papers out and accepted. She feels this needs to be a push in the next month (along with the grant edits and you know, my normal work). I have two that are pretty close and my partner has another that is also almost ready, so its doable but we're going to be busy. The good news is that this woman also edits papers and encouraged me to send her a draft.

I was supposed to meet with my student research team directly after the first meeting. However I cancelled it the day before because I wasn't prepared for them (which makes me feel awful since they did all their work and were totally prepared for me). Worse yet I was supposed to use the meeting time to get ready for them but had to use it organizing the papers I graded last night and getting back-up for all of the plagiarism.

I then taught my doctoral class at noon. This class has been going well. I have a really enthusiastic and bright bunch of students. Luckily I had prepped a class with a lot of individual and small group work, so I did some of the work for my student research team while they were doing in-class assignments. The bad part was that this was also the day their papers were due, so now I have another stack of grading.

I teach my undergraduate class immediately following my doctoral class. We actually had a fairly interesting discussion that ended with Roman Polansky. Believe me when I say it was relevant to the topic. However only 2 of them were aware of the case and I believe only 3 or 4 even knew he was. Undergraduates have a way of making you feel old right quick. At the end of the class I had to read them the riot act about the state of the papers in general and the plagiarism. They all looked generally shocked and, even my A students looked nervous until I actually handed them out. I told them I would be posting mid-term grades this weekend and that more than a handful will have to decide if it is in their best interest to stay in the class. Needless to say I had a line of students waiting to talk to me at the end of class. I think I may have busy office hours next week.

Dealing with the line of students and the fact that I had no cash to pay for parking (I don't normally drive to work so often forget about the need to pay when I do), made me late for my childbirth class. Fortunately/unfortunately this turned out not to be a problem because for the second week in a row it started approximately 1/2 an hour late. I have to say I love the idea of being a doula but the training has mostly been painful. It makes me really sad that this is a model program for teen moms but even so it is not the program they deserve. To get through it I put on my researcher's cap and take mental notes.

I'm finally home, waiting for b who is working late, drinking a beer and ignoring the fact that I have no dinner plan.

Doula Training Update

To become a certified doula I have to attend childbirth classes and a breastfeeding class in addition to the actual doula workshop I attended. Of course I will also need to serve as a doula for three births (only one of which can be a cesarean to count), read 5 books, write up my birth stories as well as an essay on the importance of being a doula. So it is no small process.

Luckily the program for teen moms in my area makes a lot of this possible and I don't need to arrange all of the logistics. This past Thursday we started our 7-week childbirth classes. The class is actually much smaller than usual, with only 7 or 8 teen moms (and 13 doulas-in-training!). I was hoping to get matched up with one of the girls as a mentor but alas they're aren't enough to go around. Pumpkin did get matched and I'm very happy for her. She is the type of person that needs a connection to make it real.

The first session was more of a meet and greet with paperwork so it wasn't much fun, however next week we get our actual childbirth educator. This morning I went to a 3 hour breast feeding class. Most teens don't breastfeed and while its not our job to persuade them it is our job to support them in their decision and to give them the information they need to make that decision. The discussion today brought back many memories for me. I loved breastfeeding but was not well supported. It came very easy to me, so all of the problems I heard about today were surprising. However I weaned Angel at 4 months even though I didn't really want to and I've always regretted that decision. I had been back to work for 2 months by then and had no support for pumping and storing in the office. It seemed like I was making things worse for all three of us (me, Angel and his dad who was home with him during the day). When I made the decision I was under the impression I'd have at least one more child and thought I'd be in a different position when that happened (one that supported breastfeeding). Unfortunately that never materialized.

I thought I'd share this poem by Sharon Olds on childbirth. Its been on my mind with all that I hear and see in these trainings.

The Language of the Brag

I have wanted excellence in the knife-throw,

I have wanted to use my exceptionally strong and accurate arms

and my straight posture and quick electric muscles

to achieve something at the centre of a crowd,

the blade piercing the bark deep,

the haft slowly and heavily vibrating like the cock.

I have wanted some epic use for my excellent body,

some heroism, some American achievement

beyond the ordinary for my extraordinary self,

magnetic and tensile, I have stood by the sandlot

and watched the boys play.

I have wanted courage, I have thought about fire

and the crossing of waterfalls, I have dragged around

my belly big with cowardice and safely,

my stool black with iron pills,

my huge breasts oozing mucus,

my legs swelling, my hands swelling,

my face swelling and darkening, my hair

falling out, my inner sex

stabbed again and again with terrible pain like a knife.

I have lain down.

I have lain down and sweated and shaken

and passed blood and feces and water and

slowly alone in the centre of a circle I have

passed the new person out

and they have lifted the person free of the act

and wiped the new person free of that

language of blood like praise all over the body.

I have done what you wanted to do, Walt Whitman,

Allen Ginsberg, I have done this thing,

I and the other women this exceptional

act with the exceptional heroic body,

this giving birth, this glistening verb,

and I am putting my proud American boast

right here with the others.

-Sharon Olds

Training

I spent this weekend at a training workshop. Years ago I used to conduct training workshops (totally different content but the process is pretty much the same) for 2-3 days at a shot. It was exhausting and I grew to hate it. This time I was a participant.

I'm training to be a doula. We have a local program that supplies the doula training for free if you do your first three (certification) births with a teen mom. I will be paired with a teen mom and attend childbirth classes with her (as part of a mentoring program) and then I will be her doula. Having a doula has a number of health benefits for both mothers and babies including shorter births; fewer cesareans, and greater likelihood of breastfeeding. The program has had tremendous success with the teens. I don't see myself ever charging for my services but would like to continue as a doula to teen and low-income mothers.

There were 23 of us attending the training--including Pumpkin and three of my students. It was a great group of women with a variety of motives for being there but all committed to the idea of helping women birth. Unfortunately I was not enamored of the training itself or the trainer. I feel the former was directly related to the latter. I also think I'm probably overly critical from my years of being a trainer. However I did learn important information that will be invaluable once I am called to duty.