On Saving the World

It's fun to visualize all of the ways I could change the face of birth, humanity, and my community- if I just had some money.  Midwifery schools, Women's health centers, farms, eco homesteads, and an outdoor area for us to have a fire and temezcal for ceremonies, all haunt my daydreams. 

Enjoy your little snacks while Daddy's around!

These past few births have reminded me of all of the sacrifices I make to attend women in their birthing and postpartum ceremony.  It's takes practice staying present after leaving my family in our cozy bed at 2am, waking my poor little sleeping baby from his nursing slumber, and knowing that my three year old is having a pizza-fries-movie marathon with Papa.  So it's time to get with the program, set prices, and limit the amount of donation births I attend per year.

It breaks my heart to turn women down, but I have to survive, too.  I have to feed my children, buy gas, clean my home, pay bills, dodge creditors, etc.  My hours of research, countless lectures, programs, and workshops I paid for, all should be sustained by my practice as a birth professional.  Although many of my clients have a difficult time paying for anything out of pocket, I swear, that from here on out, I'm only working with families who are conscious consumers of childbirth services, and appreciate the sacrifice it takes one mother to support another.  So here you are, my justification for laying down the law on innocent fetuses and round-bellied women.

Itzix and I, relaxing after a consultation in our home. Thanks, kids, for being patient!

Doulas DO Come in Color!

I looked everywhere for a midwife of color who would attend my birth for a discounted fee.  Finding a midwife in general who would care for me at a discounted fee was difficult in itself.  I settled for a hospital birth with a CNM through Medi-Cal, wrote a birth plan, and educated myself extensively.  I was pissed that I couldn't find a doula of color.  Of course, I had no money to pay for one, but I at least wanted to bargain, haggle, or just communicate with a woman who could feel like my sister.  It was my first baby, I had no cash, no experienced friends who were educated in holisitc childbirth, and a family of women who wouldn't stop projecting their birth traumas onto me.

After the most self-affirming and empowering experience of my life, natural childbirth, my life took an unexpected turn.  By six months postpartum, I became a trained doula, and attended my first birth.  Doula Panquetzani was on demand: moms of color, whose parents were monolingual Spanish speakers, requested I attend their births; contacted me for support; asked me for advice; and borrowed educational resources.  Through these women, I found other women interested in becoming doulas, midwives, childbirth educators, and sisters to women like me.

In 2009, a fellow midwifery student, Cristina, and I formed: Ticicalli Yahualli (the Healer's/midwife's House).  Our circle grew into a collective and has supported numerous Indigenous women in their journey to motherhood.  Our community doula program assists childbearing women who could otherwise not afford to be sistered.  We support each others' educations through fundraising and teaching the skills we learn to all women in our circle.  We try our best to remain conscious of the fact that after a 500 year culture of being colonized, we may bring internalized oppression to the circle.  We hold internal healing circles and hold each other accountable for our actions, with respect and empathy.

Throughout my second pregnancy, birth, and postpartum periods, I finally had birth workers of color to support me.  As more women grow pregnant bellies, our education and experience grow, and we are more capable of lending a hand.  Currently, two of our sisters are studying in Veracruz with Naoli Vinaver, a partera tradicional.  We have come a long way, and I am proud that my fellow Indigenous birth workers can offer empathy, support and creative community solutions.

Grateful for my new sisters.

Second Time Around: Pottying from Birth

After his first meconium passed, my little Itzix was all mine to observe and potty.  His fat little body was so warm, and he slept so much that it was a little difficult to predict when he'd eliminate.  I kept him naked, with a cloth diaper inside of his swaddler, just in case he unloaded.  My postpartum doula and mother kept telling me to put a shirt on the poor little guy, but I knew that as long as he was in my arms, he'd have all the warmth he could ever need.

The first three days we had a huge pile of swaddlers, blankets, cloth diapers, and clothing (mine included!) to wash.  My husband complained that he couldn't keep up if I kept it going, but after the first few days, Itzix and I improved our relationship.  It came naturally for me to potty Itzix as soon as he woke up and before he fell asleep.  His calm, intense presence would sometimes change from flailing arms and kicking, to a moan, or other noisy announcement.  Unlike my first son, he was very vocal about having to eliminate, often making angry faces as he talked to me about it.

Our rhythm the first few weeks was like this: He'd wake up, I'd offer the potty right away.  Sometimes he'd go within the first few seconds.  Otherwise, he'd ask to nurse.  If we had a long nursing session, he would sometimes release while nursing, so if he slept for a long stretch of time, or was extra hungry, I'd nurse over the sink.  It was surprisingly easy the second time around.  If Itzix was awake and fussing, I'd go over my mental list: Is he hungry?  Is he sleepy? When did he last eliminate? Is he overstimulated or stressed? How do I feel? Pottying became another way to embrace my son and sensitively attune myself to his needs.

Itzix is almost three months old now.  Our biggest challenge is managing Natural Infant Hygeine, or Infant Pottying, with our every day life.  When Sherman cares for Itzix, it's always, "Why doesn't he have a diaper on?"  that he asks.   He understands the value of elimination communication, and has seen it work with our first son, but I don't expect my husband to potty our newborn until Itzix could speak the very clear, assertive words "Dada, potty. Now".  Sometimes I wonder whether his genuine lack of attunement is because I am so awesome, or because he is a man.

At any rate, Akinyemi, my first born, plays an important role in pottying our newborn.  His recent profound obsession with nursing often prevents me from taking Itzix to the potty in time.  He nurses until his last breath, when he sees his 'mito project a 'naky' pipi or fuchi poo-poo into oblivion. Despite my many warnings, he is startled, and mildly afraid of coming into contact with his brother's urine or feces.  Slowly, Akinyemi is also becoming interested in his brother's movements, and very often, we will take a trip to the bathroom, and both boys will 'go'.

Waking up in the morning, next to a "booty baby" (he sleeps bottomless), who's dry, alert, and ready to take on the world with his family, helps keep me sane throughout my hectic days and sleepless nights.  My heart overflows with joy as I squat him over of the bathroom sink, the two of us smiling at each other through the mirror, cooing and agoo-ing, knowing that this moment, we avoided a diaper change.  Life is swell.