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The 4th Trimester: Thoughts from a Boston Doula on Birth, Postpartum, Breastfeeding, and more
motherhood
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Posted on Friday, February 01, 2013 12:38 PM
One thing I love to do for moms is hold their babies. It gives them a break, for sure - they can eat with two hands, pee unencumbered, and simply let their arms be free for a moment. But more importantly, I want them to see their babies' faces.  This is what we most often see of our babies. The slope of the crown to their forehead, the curve of their nose, the tops of their one ear, the fringe of eyelash. This is our view point because we're good mothers. We're holding our babies and responding to their needs. I remember vividly someone else holding my first baby when she was about 8 weeks old. She was smiling any time someone made eye-contact with her - real social smiles that lit up my new mother's exhausted soul, because I was getting some sort of recognition from the one I was giving it all up for. I couldn't help but see her entire face, looking straight at me, piercing my heart with her bright gaze, and I thought, "Aw, look at that baby!" And then I remembered that she was mine. This whole tiny bundle of baby was mine, and my God, she was so damn cute, smiling with her entire face. Her entire body! Mothering a newborn baby is all-consuming, and the details are so important - is that milk on her tongue or thrush? is that bumpy skin normal? is that a tear or a goopy eye? We take our babies out of the house, and proudly present them to everyone, but in our day-to-day duties as moms of babies, we don't often enough get to see what everyone else sees. Ask someone to hold your baby every now and then. You'll get a break, which you deserve -- but you'll also get one incredible view! |
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Posted on Friday, December 14, 2012 11:11 AM
One of my favorite things to post on Facebook is this: "It's Friday. I kept the kids alive for another week, did the work I'm paid to do, and my husband is coming home in a few hours. Job well done."  And by Friday, when I have all the kids home by 4PM, the TV goes on and we all become couch potatoes. I don't care what we eat, I don't care what the kids watch, and I don't care that I'm unshowered and in pajamas. My kids are home, and we are spending time together, waiting for Daddy so the weekend can begin. Really, does anything else matter? I talk to mothers every day, listen to their questions and can hear the fear and guilt braided into their words - and it doesn't matter if they're discussing poor sleep habits, worrying about lack of tummy time or some other important developmental milestone-stimulating exercise, or what right thing to feed their families. All I want to say is, "Mother, you don't need to be perfect. You just need to be Good Enough." This article, "Why You're Never Failing As a Mother" by Amy Morrison on the Huffington Post, describes very well the lesson that I learned once and am still learning every day as a mother, and the lesson that I so want my clients to take into their hearts. |
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Posted on Wednesday, November 21, 2012 3:18 PM
This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for my work. Yes, after close to 8 years of staying home and raising children, it feels satisfying to have an income that contributes to my family's needs. It is also a source of pride for me to have grown A Mom Is Born into what it is today, from concept to marketing to practice and administration. But what I'm really grateful for is the chance to see women simultaneously at their most vulnerable and their most courageous, whether it is during the intensity of transitional labor or as they gingerly hold their newborns and learn how to breastfeed. Or the chance to see partners marvel at a woman as she gives birth, someone whom they thought they knew so well, yet had never seen such faith and perseverance until this moment. They are in awe, yet somehow they are not surprised. Or the way that mothers accept birth, whether it is vaginal, surgical, or some combination of both, and they bravely do what they must in order to bring their babies into the world. Or the way babies exercise their biological imperatives when placed naked on their mothers' chests, and primitively but wisely caterpillar their way to a breast, and transition from continuous nutrition from the placenta to continuous nutrition from the nipple. Or the ways that mothers and partners say they couldn't have done it without me -- but really, they could have and they would have had I not been there; what they needed was me to believe they could do it, and to remind them that they could do it, that in fact they were doing it all along. And the way they thank me, say they were lucky to have me, but all I ever say back to them in all sincerity, is "Thank you for bringing me along, " because it is I who is the lucky one. My job is incredible. The physiological process of Birth is amazing. Postpartum is precious. Women's emotional and physical capacity for strength and endurance is awesome, and it's understandable why some people view birth and motherhood as holy. Love is transcendent and transformational, and in my work I spend a lot of time in the presence of love. To my clients, Happy Thanksgiving, from the bottom of my heart. |
birth stories, doula life, obstetrics, motherhood, breastfeeding, newborns, postpartum, new moms, baby blues, natural childbirth, Boston
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Posted on Thursday, November 15, 2012 6:09 PM
Recently I made the decision to bring A Mom Is Born's New Mom’s Groups back into my living room, where they started five years ago. But five years ago, my couch didn’t sag. I didn’t have duct tape covering the metal in the frame like I do now because errant pieces of spring can poke holes in people’s pants. Five years ago, I didn’t have a cat, who like all cats, sheds and requires far more vacuuming than I do. Five years ago I only had 2 children whose books, toys, knickknacks and socks covered most flat surfaces in my house. Now I have 3 children, and whoever it was that said that each child in the family adds exponentially to the number of kids you previously had…that person was right. It’s a smart business decision to hold groups in my home, but as hesitant as I am to show my clients the fingerprints on my kitchen appliances, as frightened as I am that a baby’s pacifier will fall to the floor and force a mom to get on hands and knees, eye level with the dust and cheerios and errant beads under my couch, it fits in with my commitment to help moms have a healthy, positive, and empowering experience in the childbearing year. How? Part of my work is to keep things real. What were the expectations of new mothers and new motherhood, and how do they compare to the reality? Where do those expectations come from? What are the perceptions held by new mothers about themselves and about other new mothers, and how do they compare with the reality? Well, I am a mother of 3 young children with competing physical and emotional needs which consume me. I am also a working mom, and my clients' needs compete with my children’s needs. I’m not a good housekeeper, and I don’t have a cleaning lady. The cabinet that houses my television is almost never closed, because TV is a necessary parenting tool in my busy house. In many ways, I am no different than the women in my group; perhaps I’m just fast-forwarded a few years. This is motherhood, as real and imperfect as it gets. Please come join the loving madness, Thursdays at 10AM starting November 29th. Bring your baby, 12 weeks and younger. And because I was a new mom once, too, I've got breakfast waiting for you. And I serve it on real plates, because you deserve it, Mother. Just ignore the chips in the dishes. |
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Posted on Tuesday, October 02, 2012 2:10 PM
No, this is not one of my usual Facebook posts announcing the birth of a baby boy named Joey. And no, I haven't been cultivating an interest in the study of marsupials. But when I sit down with my clients to prepare them for what life will look like in the early post-partum, I begin talking about joeys.  A 33-day-old fertilized kangaroo fetus blindly worms its way from its mother's vagina, up her belly and into the pouch, where it latches on to one of 4 teats. It stays there, suckling continuously for an average of 190 days -- more than 6 months -- until it is strong enough to poke its head out of its mother's pouch. I tell my clients this, always, while I marvel that kangaroos don't go extinct. That's quite a feat for a being that is only a few centimeters long, with only forelegs to climb up its mother's hairy middle. And always, I meet my clients' quizzical gaze, as they wonder why on earth I've brought the conversation in this direction. There is nothing like the first few weeks of first-time parenthood. I've described this in many previous blog posts, that amidst the love and baby-smitten bliss, there is vulnerable newborn who seems more like a fetus than a baby, and happy yet overwhelmed parents who are concerned because their newborn baby wants to nurse non-stop, all day and all night. The baby also can't be put down; he cries the moment he's not held snugly in someone's arms, usually his mother's.  And of course, while we are mammals, we are not marsupials; our babies are born more developed than a kangaroo baby. We don't have a pouch to tuck them into while they nurse continuously, and our arms get tired, as do our delicate breast tissues. Our biological imperatives get drowned out by the thousands of conflicting articles we read on the internet, each which threaten us with the mantle of Imperfect Parent for whatever choices we make or don't make. We are under pressure to "teach" our newborns to sleep independently and self-soothe, yet there is an ample body of research that suggests that babies who are carried more often cry less and sleep more. What parent wouldn't want their baby to cry less and sleep more? Maybe there's something Baby Joey can teach us. |
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