Risking Cultural Imperialism or More Harm than Good

In reading Marion’s Message  Family Planning and Safe Motherhood in the latest issue of Midwifery Today magazine, I enjoyed learning of the work that Marion Toepke McLean is part of , of the education and help that is being made available in Soroti, Uganda, but I was particularly grateful to read, “As an American in Africa, I constantly examine myself for cultural imperialism.  Was I trying to impose my own ideas about what African people should do, or working for them to help them realize their own dream?”

We have taken our technology and advancements all around the globe, bringing people further and further away from normal birth.  When we go outside of our culture to “help” we should always pause and scrutinize our actions for the effects they will have in the long run.

So much work can be done internationally, but it’s important to remember all the work that’s yet to be done here.

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To Be or Not To Be a Midwife

Often, after attending a homebirth, I want to become a midwife.  I am fortunate to be able to attend them as often as I do.  Recently, I made my final decision, for now.  I will do some self study work in case, when my children are older, I really want to delve in.  Still, I can’t imagine that I would want to do it more than part-time and I would only attend homebirths.

It has struck me lately how I can easily predict how progressed a woman’s labor is and have always been right, but only when she is laboring at home.  In the hospital, I am always wrong, every single time.  In the hospital, my clients are always struggling, despite the fabulous support I provide, a little more a little earlier on.  They’ve left their comfortable homes, taken off their familiar clothes, limited their mobility and often agreed to even more invasive procedures than those.  I really should give myself a break.  It’s no wonder they seem to be in hot and heavy labor when things are just beginning.

I realized that I do not want to be a midwife because, even at a homebirth, some time I may have to actually deliver a baby.  I don’t want to deliver babies.  I just want to catch them.  I just want to be there with the woman throughout her prenatal journey and watch her as she labors in her uninhibited, instinctual mammalian glory.  I don’t want to have to use sutures or syringes afterward either.

Oh, here’s a big one:  I don’t drive.  Have you seen how much stuff  homebirth midwives lug around?  It looks like they’re moving to Europe.  Most of it doesn’t get used, but if you need it, you want it to be there.  I think that many people picture homebirths happening with a long-haired woman who walks in wearing Birkenstocks  and carrying a satchel of herbs.  I would probably be wearing more fashionable footwear and would need my driver to bring the luggage in for me.  Sounds good, actually.

Still, I want to soak in lots of information.  I am a midwife at heart and would like to be a midwife in head.  Being a midwife in practice isn’t really necessary.  That’s my decision right now and I look forward to going back and forth on that one.

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Sesame Street Scandal

The scandalous part about this video clip is that it’s so old!  This should be a normal part of what children view on television and in the world around them.  It wouldn’t need an explanation if it were.  Well, Maybe to a bird.



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I’m Reading

On the bus today, on my way to my childbirth education class, I started to read Monique and the Mango Rains by Kris Holloway. I read the introduction, not quite three pages long, and reviewed the accompanying map. In a couple of minutes my head was filled with history and vibrant scenes of joy and sadness. My eyes were filled with tears. For me, lacrimal expression is a fine way to judge a book. Already, I love this one.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I started reading a novel only five hundred, eighty-six dense pages long. My daughter will be five in November and I am on page twenty-seven.

My husband is a writer and yet reading is something I don’t make time to do. In my defense, I have read since I last picked up that novel, several dozen books on childbirth, breastfeeding, health, herbs, etc.. They don’t really count, though, right?

Now you might think this book doesn’t count either.  After all, the full title is Monique and the Mango Rains: Two Years with a Midwife in Mali, but please just let me ease back into educated society slowly.  I may not be considered well-read until my children are well into their college years, but I need to start somewhere.

Anyway, although I only have time to read while I’m on my way to clients’ houses (read more about time HERE) , I do plan to finish reading this book and give you a review.  Please send literacy vibes my way!

Being Honored

Earlier this week, I sat with my clients for our first prenatal meeting together and I got a little misty for a moment. If you read my blogs in the future, you will see that I get a little misty, cry or even sob more often than you might think is normal. I’m just mushy that way. In this case I got emotional as I expressed to this couple how honored I am for them to have chosen me as their doula. I’m not honored because I was chosen above other doulas, but simply because I was chosen. The birth of their child is so important to them and there will I be, with them when he or she is born.

I am a doula because I love this work. I am extremely fortunate not to have to do it for a living, and the one birth I attend each month always means a great deal to me. I know that as a doula I am helping families, but they too are helping me. Every time I am hired, I reaffirm my commitment to improving the world.

Recently, my four-year-old daughter told me that she loves me more than I love her. Obviously, she can’t comprehend just how I feel for her. I don’t know if she ever will. Similarly, I suspect that my clients don’t quite get what an honor it is for me to be their doula.