I had an ah-ha moment this week - I am a survivor. Man, that is a powerful thought! Like many of you, I've survived a lot of things over the years - high school, summer camp, my first job, my first break up, the first time our kids called me old... and a slew of other, more serious things that I wish would disappear.
But one of the things I'm most proud of overcoming to date is my birth trauma. Seven years ago, our youngest child was born. I slowed down writing in this blog by a lot. Six years ago, almost to the day, Delaware passed a midwifery law affording Certified Professional Midwives the ability to practice their craft at births, including homebirths. Then, I stopped writing in this blog. I felt ... heard. The Momma Trauma Blog had started as a way for me to journal out my feelings and my healing journey after having a traumatic childbirth situation with our second born child. I made my musings public because I knew there were a lot of other women, families and birth professionals dealing with traumatic births. Why should we be ashamed of having to cope with trauma? We didn't all have the same story, but we shared a journey and could learn from one another. I desperately needed that kind of community and it simply didn't exist anywhere I could find. So, I created one. And before you think, "At least the baby was healthy," Read more about that, here. Why this platform Personally, this platform allowed me to dive into the births of our first two children and uncover deeply rooted feelings from them both. My trauma stemmed from the birth of our second born, but every birth, I found, shapes us a little more a parent. In my story, panic attacks from traumatic birth crept up in nearly every way. They became more noticeable if I had to visit a doctor's office (More Here) or wanted to be intimate with my husband (More Here). Coping with my birth trauma led to trouble bonding with our daughter, which I resented - that wasn't the kind of mom I had dreamed of being for so long (More Here). Pregnancy was also a source of emotional distress at times when I became pregnant with our third bundle of joy (More Here). I needed a safe space to discuss these feelings. Because of my own birth trauma and this blog, I was also introduced to the global depth of the problem (More Here). Families were investigated because of their interest in homebirth (More Here), midwives were arrested (overseas and, yes, right here in our own backyard) (More Here) and women were being coerced from their birthing beds in their greatest hours of pain when they should have been supported and loved instead (More Here). I watched our world be more concerned with how much money they could make per birth instead of focusing on the physical, emotional and mental well-being of our next generation of parents and professionals and ultimately contributing to the maternal mortality crisis in which we continue to find ourselves (More Here). Sadly, this has changed some, but we still have a lot of room for growth. I learned that as much as I wanted to shout my story to the highest of heights, that wouldn't create much change. But starting or contributing to a movement might get us somewhere. Here in Delaware, we saw that first hand when a group of dedicated women, legislators, midwives, doulas and, yes, medical professionals stepped up to advocate for homebirth midwifery. Some of them had been fighting this cause for decades. Fast forward: We finally won our fight. (More Here). We also saw this collective movement work when a local mother needed support after being told she could not breastfeed her child during school hours (More Here). I learned a new mantra the hard way: We are better together. Then, the blog went silent I didn't need to write or shout as much anymore. I graduated college about a month before our last child was born, successfully advocated for homebirths in our state with a LOT of dedicated advocates, rejoined the workforce after being a stay-at-home-mom for years, and finally had a birth that didn't include the medical professional violating myself or our children in the process (even if it didn't go completely as planned). I continued to heal from birth trauma even after this birth for a time (More Here). Much of the healing, for me, took place in the years before the birth of our youngest. Her birth, and the other things I had accomplished, made me understand that I am enough and I am worthy of respect and autonomy. It was a closure of sorts. For you, that closure could come in so many forms. Maybe you write your pains on paper and toss them into a ceremonial fire, burning the negativity to ash. Maybe you have a heart to heart discussion with the doctor about what had transpired and why it upset you greatly. Maybe that's too much for you - you could also write a letter to your doctor and then rip it up or burn it, never facing them again. Closure could come through painting, journaling, dancing, reporting negative behaviors... Above all, I found that I needed to give myself grace and space to discover what closure looked like for me (More Here). I AM A SURVIVOR As cliché as it sounds, my family and I needed quiet time. I've had a few moments and panic attacks since then, of course. I don't have panic attacks as much anymore. I know how to ground myself now and find a way out of those attacks if I do have them. I've moved on to better pastures, if you will. Healing from my trauma no longer consumes my thoughts and I can focus on my family and life again! I can look back on my story with compassion, rather than tears. These are huge steps. So, I'm coming back to say that I made it - I AM A SURVIVOR. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. You don't need something miraculous to prove it to yourself. You need yourself - You are enough in every way. Healing and closure will look different for every mother, family and birth professional. No two stories will be exactly alike. But we can be here for one another in our times of need. I'm excited to have come around to the other side of this story. If you have survived your birth trauma and would like to help offer support to others, my door is open! If you are just starting your healing journey, we are here for you. You are important. You are loved. You are not alone. <3 Still confused? Read more about: Perinatal violence and coercion What is perinatal violence? Could it be more than baby blues? Help! My loved one is dealing with birth trauma! Offer support: Try this. Help! Birth trauma is affecting my partner, or BOTH of us! Looking for more on healing? What do I do when I realize it's birth trauma? Check out this piece from Kathy Morelli, LPC. I-Statements: Be heard in the professional world. Decluttering birth trauma to understand your own story. If you see any broken links, please let me know. Completely unrelated: Check out my children's books! Birth trauma, PTSD, perinatal violence, consent, VBAC, CBAC, childbirth, parenting, survivor
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I kid you not. I was told in person by a well-known and well-respected OB/GYN that he was afraid of my blog. This one. It hasn't been long since he told me this, but I will never forget it. Let me set the scene:
I've had an amazing several years. Some of my avid readers may recall my legislative journey in slowly (painfully) working on the midwifery crisis in Delaware (as in only Amish & Mennonite women here could access a non-nurse midwife, we needed to fix this). We made a huge splash in our state, especially with some of the medical community. They actually seemed quite shaken. They'd tell you they weren't, but they were. I digress. So, this doctor is a pretty big deal here. He's got power, education, an impressive career history, the whole nine yards. And even so, he told me in person while working together during the legislative process: "I'm afraid of your blog." I put the statement aside in my mind for a short time, chewing on it. I came to the conclusion that not only was it okay that he was afraid of my blog, but I also realized that I was proud of that comment. Curious as to why?
To this doctor, a man of great respect and has undoubtedly saved lives in our small state by practicing obstetrics and gynecology, to him I say Be scared. Know that all of the reasons you have to fear our community are valid. We know our rights. We know that we are in charge of our bodies. And we know how to make a difference when it's needed. You, sir, are correct. We're a scary, powerful, awesome community. And I love every ounce of it! Like most stay at home parents, I try to find a variety of activities for our children to enjoy during the summer. Activities that occur outside of the house (and out of my hair!) find their way to the top of the list.
Today was no different. I wanted to take our children to our local library which offered a craft today: superhero masks! Heck yea!! We didn't end up going thanks to a torrential downpour. But someone else (won't say who) happened to see us before we were set out to leave and noticed our son had mismatched socks. Now, they were both white mind you. Nothing terribly noticeable like a red sock and a neon green one. But, nonetheless, this person was not happy. I was being a terrible mother for thinking of sending the children out in such a way. Mismatched socks. She scolded me like no tomorrow. Terrible, no good person I was apparently. And here I thought I was being a good parent for prioritizing cultural, social and educational activities. Okay, I know a superhero mask craft isn't very educational. But it's important to me that our kids have positive experiences with the library. Right? I mean I don't think I'm totally off my rocker for that. But clearly, I was wrong. Something was more important. Mismatched socks. Society's rules. It's really not much different in our current birth culture. You might think, well that's a far stretch. Stay with me. When a mom expected something other than a "normal" hospital birth experience, she's often told how that doesn't fit in society's standards. And even dragged down for her option, no matter what she has backing her up. Mismatched socks. Society's rules. When we say we've been traumatized from our childbirth experience, or dealing with a perinatal mood disorder... we're often met with the same response. It's not normal. Don't talk about it. Don't you dare take those socks out of the house! Mismatched socks. Society's rules. I am here to tell you that sometimes, no, all the time, there are priorities that go above and beyond society's rules. You are worth more than society's rules. You are important. You and your family deserve a healthy mom. What has society's rules meant to you? Abuse during childbirth. Disrespectful care. PTSD. These are things we've been trying to explain for years, while others try to explain them away saying they're just not possible. Today, the World Health Organization released a statement that says just what we've been trying to say: "Every woman has the right to the highest attainable standard of health, including the right to dignified, respectful care during pregnancy and childbirth. However, across the world many women experience disrespectful, abusive, or neglectful treatment during childbirth in facilities. These practices can violate women’s rights, deter women from seeking and using maternal health care services and can have implications for their health and well-being." The WHO joins the White Ribbon Alliance, Human Rights in Childbirth, the International Federation of Gynecology and Obstetrics and so many more organizations to stand up and say that disrespect directed to pregnant and laboring moms happens by care providers, sometimes even abuse. It happens, and it's not okay. How long have we been hanging on to a thread, hoping someone in a high enough power will listen to us? Is this that power? I don't know. They're pretty powerful. It might just be another nudge in the right direction and frankly, every nudge helps! We deserve to be heard and change made! For ourselves, our friends, our sisters, our daughters.... Every woman deserves respectful care regardless of where that care is found. What do you think about the WHO's newest statement? Find it here! "Reports of disrespectful and abusive treatment during childbirth in facilities have included outright physical abuse, profound humiliation and verbal abuse, coercive or unconsented medical procedures (including sterilization), lack of confidentiality, failure to get fully informed consent, refusal to give pain medication, gross violations of privacy, refusal of admission to health facilities, neglecting women during childbirth to suffer life-threatening, avoidable complications, and detention of women and their newborns in facilities after childbirth due to an inability to pay.(5)" Before you ask, I'm still processing. Regulars here will tell you that I just birthed our third little one just two months ago. They may also tell you that I haven't written out my birth story yet. I know a lot of people are waiting impatiently to hear it, but I'm just not ready to come off of it yet. But, I want to tap into the Carry The Weight campaign a bit, as that really hits home.
The phrase "Carry The Weight" is really what got me. It immediately got me thinking about how I carry the weight of my birth trauma around, sometimes on my sleeve with my advocacy and other times quietly stuffed inside. The weight from birth trauma has been carried into my parenting, my bed, my relationships, my professional activities, every bit of my life. It certainly didn't help me get rid of depression any after our second born. Going into this third pregnancy, I knew I was still harboring the weight of my trauma to some degree, although I've done a lot of healing, too. But a conversation with the doctor who attended the birth really caught me off guard. Our new baby had gotten stuck during delivery, a true shoulder dystocia. She was my biggest baby out of all of them! (I hear this is normal, for them to just keep getting bigger?) She was 8 lbs., 15.5 ounces and 21" long. The doctor we had was phenomenal, I'll tell you more about her later. She really did wonders to "unstick" our little one, or help my body unstick the baby... however you want to look at it. I didn't even know there was a dystocia issue until after our new one was contently getting birth goo all over my chest. After everything was all said and cleaned up (probably the best part about a hospital birth - no cleanup!), the doctor very gently told me about the dystocia, that I did, indeed, have a small pelvis, and that complications like that is why we sometimes need to listen blindly to our birth attendants in the heat of the moment. Zombie Prep Dad tells me that he, my mom and my doula had told her that I had previously had a traumatic birth, which explains why she told me this. It couldn't have been a long conversation, we were only there for two hours before baby emerged and she was a very attentive doctor. Although I was the only birthing mama on the floor. At the time, I was a little confused by her comments. But I had a slimy kid trying to find a nipple and nurses who were asking if they could do newborn testing things with her on my chest. So I wasn't able to concentrate too much on what she said. Before we get all unraveled with her comments, I think she's right. I think when an emergency occurs, we need to be able to trust in our birth attendants fully. That's what they're there for! I also know that the United States especially isn't really in a position to make that always available right now. What I was more concerned about was the fact that I had a true shoulder dystocia. That caught me by surprise. By true I mean a dystocia that occurred naturally rather than medically induced as most dystocia's are. I thought the trauma I'd bring into birth would be the sexual trauma I carried on my sleeve from our second born's birth. Instead, I Carried The Weight of the birth of our first born. He also was stuck, but his was a medically induced shoulder dystocia. At least, that's what I had believed and even (finally) heard verified from a doctor when I delivered our second. But now, the words of this third doctor has me confused. Why is all this relevant to carrying the weight? I'm getting there, follow the mind of a writer here....
In my mind... that made me wonder: Would our first born have had a true dystocia if drugs hadn't been involved (pharmaceutical... given by the hospital....) and if I was able to walk around? Does this validate the actions of the doctor from our second born and thus invalidating my traumatic experience? Did I have no real reason or right to feel totally violated by him not removing his fingers when I begged him? These questions are why I've remained silent here for so long. I've been in this game long enough to know the answers. But they still plague me. They still haunt the recesses of my mind, contributing to the depression that tries to seep up and around the awesome placenta pills that are keeping it at bay (I'm sure they are, but can't prove it. Moving on...). I know that even if there was a problem with our second born, the doctor could have "pulled out," yes I used that term, to talk with me. There was time, even in an emergency. I know that my body knew what was happening, what it was doing. Having had three kids, two "stuck" and one not, I know that my body knew when they were stuck and when they weren't and it was able to communicate that to my attendants. I am confident that it would have let that second doctor know if there were a problem, which there wasn't.... I know that what I experienced at the hands of that doctor was perinatal violence (obstetric violence), nothing more, nothing less. Even when I called the RAINN hotlines, they could totally understand how I felt sexually abused by this one doctor, even in that setting. I begged him, my husband and doula begged him, and yet he still kept his fingers defiantly inside somewhere he didn't have permission to explore! We shouldn't have to validate the violent actions of our doctors (or midwives, nurses, etc.) to ourselves. "Maybe he WAS just trying to help?" But yet, this third doctor tried to validate the actions of the second, and the comments of the first... All in one calm, gentle phrase. Professional courtesy perhaps? I don't know. I'm not upset with her at all. I'm just left a little flabbergasted if you will. Now... If you're still with me here, and if all of that makes sense to you, you might be better off than I am at the moment! I'm breaking my baby-moon to write about suicide, and the double-standard our society has about the subject. First let me say, in the wake of Robin Williams' death, that he was and always will be one of my favorite actors. He was so versatile in his talent, and he gave of himself fully so freely. He knew how to play the roles meant for child eyes amazingly well, yet could turn around and portray a role just for adults in the next time around. He was nothing short of amazing.
What I am particularly interested in right now is the fact that all over my social media feeds I see posts such as "You're free!" and "No more suffering." Coming from a background with mental illness, I am happy to see these posts. I can imagine a solidarity beaming up to him in Heaven from across the world, helping ease the transition. This eases my own soul. We are making progress. Robin Williams has been in our homes for, what, the past 40 years? For my whole life (not 40, btw!), at least. He's in our hearts forever in one sense. But we really don't know him at all. We just know of his face, his professional persona, to whom he may have donated, etc. But we don't really know him like we would know our family, close friends, church family, etc. We didn't know him. But we knew him. And for some, that seems to make it okay to let go of the judgement and offer peaceful condolences. On the other hand, when we see people in the news to whom we have no connection commit suicide, the reaction is strikingly different. It might be a teen girl who killed herself because she's lesbian and was brutally teased. Or a new mom with postpartum depression or even psychosis who may have not only killed herself in the mist of her suffering. Then, all of a sudden, our minds go from "be free from your suffering soul" to "How dare you?" "How selfish of you!" "Monster." The true monster is mental illness, whichever variety it takes on for that individual. The teen, the mom, their suffering was just as true as the suffering Robin Williams and a slew of other actors have faced. Who are we to judge? Why are we able to say "Be free" for one, and not for another? I know I have a bit of an insiders view on this topic since I've been there, but I know that even the person who has never suffered from mental illness can rise up from our judgmental society to recognize the suffering of someone with a mental illness. If there's one thing I hope arises out of the darkness of Robin Williams' passing, it would be an awareness for that suffering, knowledge that it can happen to anyone, regardless of money or status, and that everyone is precious, everyone matters. Curious, and disconcerting, are the newest numbers from the 2014 CDC Breastfeeding Report Card as they relate to Delaware families. The Director of Delaware's Division of Public Health, Dr. Karyl Rattay, "suspect(ed) the data will positively reflect the state's efforts" in the updated report card, however, the truth couldn't be further from the truth.
Dr. Rattay said in a recent Newswork interview that Delaware has begun, in recent years, to focus on this crucial health issue in hopes of raising the breastfeeding statistics to achieve a healthier state in areas such as the WIC program, promoting the Baby-Friendly Initiative (for which Beebe Hospital in Lewes, DE remains the only hospital in the state to achieve this designation), and other support services. Not only did Delaware's percentage of breastfeeding mothers and babies not remain the same, but they decreased in all but one category in the 2014 data from the CDC report and are considerably lower than national breastfeeding averages, as they have been for many years. Since 2007, percentages peaked in 2011 & 2012 with almost one-third of new (or new-again) mother and baby dyads at least attempting breastfeeding. It has since fallen to 65.7%. On the contrary, the national average has steadily risen with the 2014 data resting at 79.2%. See Delaware specific data from the CDC Breastfeeding Report Cards (2007-2014) below. Why do you think rates are falling? What can we do to change this trend? I’ve had this post on my mind for a while. What better day than International Women’s Day (albeit a day late!) to send it out there in the universe and out of my mind! Pregnancy is a beautiful, and to some a sacred, time in the life of a family. Magically, our clothes start popping buttons and we want to eat… ALL.THE.TIME. After we’ve gone through the yucky “morning” (read: all day) sickness phase, of course. So then what? Then it’s all out from there. Literally. We just grow and grow and grow while bystanders gawk and assume they have some level of say in our healthcare decisions. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly respect the opinions of my peers, family and providers to a point. The good thing about that, though, is that they are just opinions whereas I (should) have the ultimate authority over my own body, and that of my new child. Good friends and/or health care providers understand that requirement. For me and my family, I also hold my husband’s opinion almost as high as my own (almost only because there is a level of: this is my body, not his!). That’s just how our family works; we don’t make important life-altering decisions without one another. Back to International Women’s Day. Some say it’s a day to celebrate “womanhood.” Others say it’s a day to celebrate our social, political and economic achievements throughout history. There are many things we can celebrate on each of these fronts. We could celebrate Rosa Parks (one of MY heroines!), or the women’s suffragette movement. We could give accolades to the first woman to do this, or the first woman to do that. We could find amazing scientific advances created by women from all over. We could celebrate our bodies and motherhood in their natural beauty. Instead, I am unable to focus on these amazing things. I am immersed in the beautiful and sacred time of life we call pregnancy. And it is just that. I’m amazed at what my body can do and the joys God has offered my family during this time, especially since we thought we were done! Well apparently not, God has a different plan. I love how my husband just lights up sometimes with that husbandly approval, “Yup. I did that.” For all that, I am grateful for my womanhood. For all that, I am also saddened and frankly, pissed off. I have many questions in my mind every day that a pregnant woman shouldn’t have to ask. Normal pregnant-mom questions aren’t even on my radar, like: Will my water break while I’m grocery shopping? Or singing in front of our church congregation? Will I go into labor early? Will I go into labor at all? Will there be an emergency? What childbirth class should I take? What if I can’t breastfeed? What if there’s something wrong with our baby? How will the dog(s) react? What will we do with the other children while I’m in the hospital? And…. WHY IS EVERYONE TOUCHING MY BELLY! No. My questions are more like: Will I receive evidence-based care? Or will it be based on the opinions of my care providers and their insurance? Will my informed consent and informed refusal be respected? Or tossed in the garbage like it has in the past? Do I go to the hospital to birth, or stay home? Which location poses the most risks for me & our child? If I stay home, do I do so attended only by my husband and toddlers? Or do I hire a midwife to assist us, all the while, risking her own freedom for mine? Will she go to jail on my account? OR should I create an “escape” plan to birth in a nearby state? OR OR... No, no or actually. Becoming Amish or Mennonite is out of the question. *insert eyeroll* Will an investigator be sent to my home if I have a homebirth? If I go to the hospital, do I go to the same hospital where I was violated (which is the “best” in our area)? Or choose a different location? Will I matter to my care providers? Or is it really just about the money and their schedule? Will I be separated from my husband and doula (again) against my wishes? Will they try to tell me I can’t proceed further until I have a vaginal exam, again? (Do they not understand how birth works?) Do I really want to take the 1/3rd risk of having major surgery by going to a hospital when evidence says most of those are not warranted? Will I be on a schedule to be cut, even if I don’t know about it? How do I plan to avoid unnecessary medical interventions to have the healthiest and safest birth possible (assuming no emergency arises)? Should I bring evidence upon evidence for any number of situations to show my doctors right then and there? Can I trust my care provider at the hospital to be truthful about medications given? Will I be on a time limit, which isn’t substantiated by scientific evidence, and then be forced to submit to those medical interventions I didn’t want in the first place? Will I trigger a PTSD episode *during* labor when a doctor is at the foot of the bed because of our daughter’s birth? And WHY DO YOU THINK YOU CAN TOUCH MY BELLY!? (okay, so that one’s the same) Why are these even questions? Why does this have to be a thing? Yes. We could say this list of questions is fear and anxiety laden, and we’d be correct. We could say “Good Lord, this mom needs help.” And we’d be right. I do need help. I need help understanding why our maternity care system is so messed up beyond belief and why it is based on the opinions of our medical personnel, rather than the personal needs, beliefs, opinions and research of the moms and families they “serve.” (F. Joelving , Ob-gyn guidelines often based on opinions, weak data. Reuters. 2011.) And why our maternity care situation continues to be perpetuated in a society which heralds itself as free, equal and all for human rights? Why is it that I have to fight so damn hard to get the birth that I desire, and believe so heavily in for safety, health and religious reasons? Why is that a thing? Why is it that I was violated TWICE in the past, as was one of our children, because the doctors were impatient and didn’t know the proper care needed EACH.TIME. Why was that a thing? So, this International Women’s Day, I am thinking about the women across our globe that are dealing with similar situations and questions. Why can’t we celebrate our womanhood in every aspect, including birth? And who will step up for these moms who deserve better? We deserve better outcomes, better care and damnit, some respect so we can do what needs to be done safely! Previous Post: Parenting is history in the making. What kind of history will you choose? Did you know you are making history? Well, you are. Every moment you dedicate to your child, your partner, or yourself for that matter, you’re making history.
The other day, I had to pic our preschooler up early and boy was he upset. Poor guy just wailed and wailed, not wanting to leave school. “But I love school,” I could hear him plead. Now I’ve picked him up early before, but usually just a few minutes early when everyone was also packing up. This was half an hour early, so they were in the middle of important business! So when his teachers got him to the door to where I was, I immediately took his hand, gave him a BIG hug and asked him if he was okay. He gibbered something that I couldn’t decipher, but gave him the mommy, “uh huh, oh MY!” so he at least thought I was understanding him. When we got in the car, I asked him what happened. I figured he’d tell me a cute story about whatever it was they were working on at the time. But no. What he told me blew my mind. He said: “Well, you just held my hand and you just listened.” It doesn’t sound BIG. I didn’t fly around the world. But to him? That small gesture made HISTORY for our son. It’s little things like that that will add up (I hope) to a lifetime of fond memories of his parents helped nurture him as he grows into a respectful young man and can do the same for someone else. And he already has. On a (albeit rare) occasion, I catch him nurturing his little sister the same way we do with them both. History. Did you ever have one of those “just leave me alone for the night” arguments with your partner? But then come back the next morning to apologize and make up? My mom used to always tell us growing up, “Never go to bed angry.” But, let’s face it. No couple is perfect. But when we look beyond ourselves and try to work things out, we make history for ourselves and our children. You are saying: You are worth this effort, WE are worth it. You will be setting an example. Maybe you had a different kind of partner issue and are coming out of a violence situation. You might have made history for yourself and your children by leaving that situation. Although it might not seem better at the time and it's scary beyond all get out, you are making history by providing a better life than was available with abuse in the background. You are saying: You are worth this effort, WE are worth it. You will be setting an example. History. Do you sneak off to take secret moments just for yourself each day? Maybe you recognized a problem and visited a counselor? Do you have a hobby, something you enjoy doing just for you? When we do these things and take care of ourselves, we are making history for ourselves, our partners and our children. We are showing our children that it’s okay to be selfish every once and a while. We are showing our kids and our partners that sometimes, just sometimes, it’s not all about them and we need to regain a little sanity, too. We are showing everyone that we need to take care of ourselves so that we can continue to take care of, what feels like, the world. This will then teach them that they need to do the same to be healthy. History. When we make history in the simple things, extraordinary things are possible. Who knows where we will be in 20 years, or our partners or children. Our children may be the next astronaut, teacher or doctor. Take care of yourself, momma. You are laying the foundation and history for what we need tomorrow to be! Happy International Women’s Day! Then, there was silence. It's been quiet around here for a while now. You know, I tell people all I want to do is shout our platform from the mountaintops. but there's power in the silence, too. Sometimes I just don't know what to say. Other times I can't say anything at all. I was at a coffee shop just the other day discussing placenta's with another professional when a local birth professional happened to walk in. We spoke for a bit on local happenings including a sudden baby boom and Delaware midwifery activism. She went on to tell me that her employer told her she was not allowed to participate in "home birth efforts," or she could face jail time. You could just see the sadness this causes her. She has been silenced. THEY have been silenced, as she's not the only one. Moms all over are routinely told they must go about birth a certain way, whether it's an induction, cesarean or other route, simply because they have a "big baby." Several moms (that we know of) last year were threatened with Child Protective Services should they not comply. These moms were silenced. When we are told that we are merely moms, we don't have the experience of a doctor thus we cannot possibly know what is going on with our own bodies, we are silenced. Many moms feel they cannot discuss their emotions after baby. "It's a healthy baby," others say, as if mom doesn't matter "enough." We go through the daily grind and keep the tears, anger, unease, depression to ourselves without seeing help, because no one around us understands or can put their own ideas aside to suggest help. These moms are silenced. Moms, like me, in states where midwifery isn't allowed outside of an office, birth center or hospital, we can't talk about the joy found in receiving that care. We can't tell our prenatal care provider that we desire a homebirth. We have to do it "behind the scenes" if we feel that strongly about having a homebirth, VBAC, you name it. Or even still, we choose to remain silent to protect the women who so bravely give of their own freedom so that we may have ours. Those women live in silence, for fear of persecution from the very ones who say they do so for the safety and health of moms and babies. Yet, our maternity outcomes are atrocious. We are silenced. I am silenced. When we teach our daughters that they can only dress modestly and quietly so that men don't ogle in hopes of preventing rape, we are silencing our daughters. When we teach ourselves that we have to submit to the male-oriented patriarchy that is our non-evidenced based maternity care in America blindly, no matter what, we are silencing ourselves. And we all deserve better. The more women, professionals, partners, friends and family start stepping up and out of oppression, the less oppression there will be. It takes time for us all to get there, but it's happening. A paradigm shift is occurring, slowly. I'm tired of being silent! I'm tired of watching women be coerced into laying down and taking it, both figuratively and physically. We can change things! What would you add? "Oppression can only survive through silence." Carmen de Monteflores |
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July 2015
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