My mother, Carmen, isn't a midwife according to popular definition. Yet she most certainly is a midwife. As a high risk birth labor coach with the Companeras program based in San Rafael, California, she has attended 100s of births, touching deep into the hearts and lives of many women who've come to call her their children's Godmother. And the bond between her and her clients runs just as deep with the mothers whose babies die. My mother is an angel. mid·wife ˈmidˌwīf/ noun 1. a person (typically a woman) trained to assist women in childbirth.verb verb 1. assist (a woman) during childbirth. In honor of International Women's Day, I dedicate this piece to my mother. March 8th is also the birthday of famous midwife Ina May Gaskin, and forty-one years after my mother gave birth to me, her third child. In celebration, I decided to interview my mother about her work. Decades of admiration, from me and my friends who've met her and heard her stories, all led up to this conversation. It is my simple and heartful tribute to my own beautiful mother, and to women and mothers everywhere. Me: What do you do?
Carmen: I support Spanish speaking pregnant women with high risk births both during pregnancy and labor, and in the intensive period after the birth. Why do your clients need you? They need us to help them understand what’s happening with their pregnancy, since they aren’t native English speakers. Culturally they need us because of the language differences among Spanish speaking countries. Something we say in Guatemala might mean something totally different in El Salvador. Speaking a shared language bonds people together, so the women often benefit a lot from our connection with them. Our clients are not used to asking a lot of questions, so we help them communicate. They understand the process more, and eventually they feel safer because of our bond. Why do high risk births happen? A birth is termed high risk for two reasons: medical or trauma related. It’s common that there’s some sort of trauma that has not been healed. And usually when a woman is pregnant, unless her life's trauma has been dealt with, it tends to arise. For example women who have been raped at the U.S. border, they come here to work, they don’t want to deal with it or think about it, and all of a sudden they don’t have a menstrual period and Boom. There’s also domestic violence, childbirth sexual abuse or drug addiction. Being a pregnant teenager entails a high risk birth too, because you don’t always have the support of your family, or you may have been raped so you’re dealing with trauma. Being a teen mother puts babies at risk because teens aren’t necessarily prepared to be mothers. The stress level and other challenges in parenting can be too much for the new mother. How many stillborns have you attended? There have been six stillborns. Three of the babies were anencephalic, and one of them was Wolf Syndrome. The other two died as they were born due to abnormalities including chromosomal problems. One baby lived two minutes and the other baby lived 17 hours. What is the best part of your work? Helping women. Helping women to be more informed about breastfeeding, postpartum depression, what labor is like... that they have choices. They have choices during labor and it’s important to be informed before you go into labor. What is the most challenging part of your work? Family members of the pregnant women. Family members have their own ideas about birth, and they’re not always well informed in a way that’s helpful to the woman. They tend to give misinformation. Clients need to have all the information and then they need to make a well informed decision for themself and their baby. One of the hardest things is to have a teenager who’s pregnant and her annoyed mother in the same room. Her mother fills that room with fear because she’s totally annoyed at her child who is pregnant. What is the most important thing you say to mothers whose babies don’t survive? I say very little. In situations like that. The phrase that I use is “Silence is golden.” I wait for them to ask. If they ask for specifics, I tell them the truth. Honesty. On any medical question they ask me I refer it back to the doctor. Often mothers tend to blame themselves. Simple words can be helpful. I say, “What did the doctor tell you? This has nothing to do with eating or drinking…” You can help the mother to try not to blame herself. “If it’s a chromosomal problem, it’s not what you ate.” The most important thing is to be present. To know they can pick up the phone and ask me a question, and if I can’t answer it, I will make calls to find the answer. And to support these mothers who lose babies after the baby is born, because that’s... a big job. What would you say to women who have healthy live births? A child is a gift. I’ve even had a couple clients who have been raped and choose to have their babies. Who’s anyone to say you should have an abortion just because you’ve been raped? It’s an innocent child. Everyone makes their decisions and they have to live with their decisions. It’s very important to respect your client, because it’s easy to be shocked with things that people say. To not be reactive, if they tell you that they have been raped, to treat what they say as confidential. A child is a gift. Bless every drop of your beautiful Puerto Rican blood, my dear mother. I am completely honored to be your daughter.
4 Comments
One recent evening, I heard the shocking news that she had passed. Aja ("asia"), daughter of a very dear friend of mine, one of the most soulful and vibrant young ladies I had ever met. She'd passed in the night, it wasn't known how, and a ripple of disbelief rocked the world around her. I met Aja through her mother Ginger, and instantly adored her. The kind of person who wasn't afraid to tell you that she loved you, she had either outgrown the scarcity myth around love being special, reserved for only those precious few around you, or she never bought into it in the first place. One day out of the blue she asked me to photograph her wedding in Kauai. Feeling incompetent, I said, "But Aja, I'm not a real photographer. Your wedding photos should be stunning, and what if the ones I take aren't?" Without stomping her foot down, it was as if she did. Emphatically, she said, "Jessie, I love you. I want you to photograph my wedding." She clearly didn't wait to die before getting the "Love is All That Matters" memo. The wisest don't. And so it was. Months later I found myself immersed in the tropical kiss of fiery Kauai herself, photographing a feisty mermaid in her gown. And when we reached the "Trash the Dress" session on the beach in Hanalei, I found myself taking photos in my bikini. I thought I was dreaming. Not to be in Kauai, not to be photographing a wedding there, but to be doing it in my bikini -- let's just say that's not exactly my comfort zone attire. Aja's free-spirited affection and acceptance of me had opened a window to a place where it didn't matter how much fat I had on my thighs. I was loved, happy and free. Hundreds of other people have stories like this about Aja. Somehow she was an expert at making people feel loved. I assert there is no greater art in the human experience. Hearing of her death left a hollow dark pit in my chest, especially when I thought of the pain her mother must be feeling. Part of me still doesn't believe she's gone. A light that burned so intensely bright. I imagined those creamy childhood cherub cheeks her mother would kiss as a child. The squeals she'd make when she landed a perfect gymnastics move. Her smooth, assuring voice and how her two younger brothers, Tyler and Travis, would do without their older sister's wise embrace. And her father. She was the apple of his eye, every second of her precious life. Would they ever get over this? Soon I decided No, they wouldn't. Just as she thought, spoke and moved so vivaciously through life while breathing, Aja would live with no less of a spark after she left her body. The pit of sadness left in the hearts of all who love her, would feed the depth of empathy and love we were all capable of choosing, and might even be moved to choose more, once she had gone. At her ceremony, held in a gym packed wall to wall, it was the words of her father that broke the dam withholding tears inside my chest. "This is not a sad day." Tim Chew spoke into the microphone. And just when I thought he might gloss over the sadness, highlighting only the beautiful life she lived, he continued, "No, this is not about sadness. If it were, there would be no flowers. There would be nobody here..." He went on, "What is sad is all the people who die every day unnoticed, unnamed." Dam, busted. That a man so eternally in love with his first born, his only daughter, on this day dedicated to her, could take it to this level... Pulling from within his noble heart, a voice for those far less fortunate than his daughter. Awe. Dear Aja, I am truly touched by your existence. Your wide open love made me feel like an instant big sister, and your acceptance helped me feel free in my own skin. I was one of many witnesses to how you loved, and my life is forever better because of you. Thank you for living. Shine on, feisty mermaid. One of the things I remember from childhood was being told, "You are smart and beautiful." Mostly by my mother Carmen, aunt Irma and sister Stephanie. It didn't matter what anyone else thought about me. Nobody is smart or beautiful in everybody's eyes. My world -- those closest to me, as a child -- believed in me. Those words sunk into my chest. Between them and the sense of safety I found in my home and community, I felt I could do anything. The world would take care of me. I could unravel, like a flower, exposing my affectionate soul to the sun and being fed, day after day, water and light. It wasn't the words smart and beautiful that mattered. Instead it could have been "kind and creative" or "generous and truthful." It was that Love was behind them. The most powerful force on the planet. The deepest human need. Through their words and how they chose to see me, my deepest human need was being met. Acknowledgment is some of the most potent medicine for relationship and yet very lacking in our culture. It is as if we are supposed to pretend we don't need to feel appreciated. We're dying for it, yearning for it, yet encouraged to suppress this longing. We are led to believe we can be fed instead by external resourcing, often commonly referred to as addictions. When it comes to children, we rock: "Gosh Ariana, you are a marvelous piano player!" we might say to a 4-year-old pecking the ivories with two fingers. But when it comes to adults, we withhold it from ourselves and each other, robbing life of this most simple aspect of affection, and then walk around wondering why we feel empty, unappreciated and broke. So sure, go buy Valentine's Day cards. Let your children make them. Show love. But for God's sake, don't deprive yourself of it for the rest of the year by forgetting that every day is Love Day. Every day is a day to give ourselves and others the most basic human need there is: the knowing that we are loved, and capable of loving. Stop suppressing hugs. Open up to their joy and oxytocin. Stop criticizing people. Start seeing and appreciating their beauty instead. Quit the insecurity act. You could die tomorrow. Your child could die tomorrow. Don't withhold the love that, on your death bed, you'll know was the only thing worth living. Any acknowledgment -- any love -- you withhold from others is withheld from yourself. Let yourself unravel for love, instead. Love looks good on you. Withholding it does not. There are four forms of acknowledgment, the most common and therefore least uncomfortable for most people, is Voluntary. So go ahead, close your eyes and peer into your heart and see what wants to be said. Voluntarily offer somebody your appreciation. Who can you tell that you love them right now? That you think they're generous, considerate, or courageous? That you admire their work ethic, creative persistence or patience? Then mark your calendar to do it again in March. And April. And on. Make it a habit. And if you're empty, because you've let your own beautiful batteries become discharged and forgotten to take care of your own needs, then take a deep breath and lay it on yourself. If you don't feel fully acknowledged and appreciated, don't look outside yourself for it first. Look within. What do you long to be appreciated for today? What would help recharge your batteries? Is it... I acknowledge myself for being an attentive mom.... or I acknowledge myself for being passionate about the welfare of animals... or I acknowledge myself for being a ripe, juicy and divine expression of wonder... (It's totally that one, huh?) Those ready for some potent medicine -- in relationship with self or other -- are invited to join Leaning into Light for our upcoming 90-minute phone workshop on The Power of Acknowledgment, Sunday February 28th, 10:00-11:30AM PST. Cost is $28 per person. Limited to 20 participants, first come first served. Sign up here.
We will do a deep dive into the domain of Acknowledgment, covering the four types of acknowledgment and how to work with them. Participants will leave with the ability to move through life feeling acknowledged and appreciated, and the ability to share that with others so that they feel acknowledged and appreciated. How's that for a power-packed 90-minute dose of Love Month medicine? Dear Mr. Rogers, As the slowness of this holiday sits in the air, you are thick on my mind. I come to my computer to get "work" done yet find there's nothing more worthwhile than watching clips of your old TV show. Your strong, gentle voice, your unabashed reverence for children and simple, profound principles like kindness, compassion and friendship... Your Emmy acceptance speech for the Lifetime Achievement Award has me deep in thought, wondering how I might direct my desire to express love through a medium I struggle with, the TV of our time. Just as you "hated" television (such a strong word for highly sensitive souls like us to use, yet I can relate) and worked to use it as a tool for good, I wonder how I might turn my significant distaste for our cultural mindlessness around smartphone/computers -- a far more complex machines than TVs -- into something as powerful as your show did. When I was a kid in the 70s and 80s I watched your show every day. You've probably had as much of a parenting imprint on me as my parents. Twenty-two years ago (more than half my life), I stopped watching TV, and I had almost forgotten that my worldview and ways have been significantly shaped by your teachings and your show. It's almost as if I would only be a fraction of the person I am without your imprint on my most formative early childhood years. The way you captivated this 1969 Senate hearing, luring its leader into a devotee of your simple "expression of care" ... only Love can melt a room like this. Lately it has become obvious we all have an artist within us, longing to burst out and take center stage. Whether it's frisbee or mountain bike racing, cooking, piano or painting, inside each and every one of us there is at least one place, one experience, where presence and joy hold our attention outside of space and time. You were born and you died in the sign of Pisces, the sign most associated with artists. I never met you in person, but I wonder what you would have to say about yourself as an artist. I am convinced my most important work in this life has been, and will increasingly be, related to work like yours: work with a simple, accessible message of care, truthfulness, love and friendship. The kind of work adults may "laugh off" if only for a moment, until someone close to us dies and we remember it's the basis for all good things in a healthy society -- the ethical center that guides how we treat each other. I admire and love you dearly and forever, and I'm so glad you're on my mind today... Jessica P.S. This song melts me. It's you... I like... My favorite holiday is coming up, you know..: Thanksgiving. For our family it's all about gratitude and great food. It's the one holiday that tends to come without a heavy focus on material things or candy, and it graces our autumn without a great deal of hurry, stress, a zillion parties and plans.
Then the big one comes: Christmas. Within days of Thanksgiving, many people are frenzied and making at least some, if not their best, effort to simplify every year. For the latter, I'll suggest one way to radically honor your vision of a simplified season. It's very simple, as most of the things that matter in life are: SELF-LOVE. Nope, it isn't selfish. Not in the twisted way our culture -- and our own internal voices of criticism -- has led us to believe. Loving yourself isn't easy, either. I know plenty of wise, proactive people who wouldn't dare declare that self-love is easy. It takes courage, dedication, and sheer generosity as self-love is an expression of a desire to love and be kind and generous with all of life, actually. Loving yourself makes you more generous with everyone you care about, too. Its value is endless, but 'let's start with the basics: If you're mailing out Christmas cards that say "Peace and Joy this Holiday Season" and you're a walking example of hurried, worried stress, well... Perhaps it's time to walk your talk. Every single one of the wisest people I know starts their day in a way that places an anchor of self-awareness and presence into the hours that follow. Give yourself this basic piece, this basic gift of mindfulness. What 5-minute meditation would help you start your day centered, assisting you to speak, act and make decisions that benefit your peace of mind? There are 10,000,000,000 (ten gaga-lillion) possibilities. Here's one to try on. The peace I am is the peace I will give throughout this day. Love is the core of my being, and I will spend this day in acceptance of that. Everyone whose path I cross will benefit from my presence. Today I speak and act from this deep place of serenity that can overcome anything. Please share your ideas or findings here, oh generous you! And truly, THANK YOU for doing the simple, but definitely not always easy, work of loving yourself. THANK YOU for leaning into light. Shine on! Since our daughter was born in the spring of 2013, I have experienced thousands of moments of feeling profoundly in love. It isn't just when she beams light through her eyes. It isn't just because I feel like the best me I can be, in my role as her mama. It is all sorts of moments. When a tantrum bubbles-up from her passionate emotions, I feel in love with her honesty and full permission to express her needs. When she resists leaving the playground I feel in love with her invitation to be a more effective communicator and guide. I even feel that deep in-love-ness when I change her poo diaper. Her digestion is working; how miraculous is that!? I am in love with her more consistently than I have ever felt in love with anything. And I am completely not unique here. So, so many parents relate to this almost bewildering sense of love. Glancing back at my entire life, this feeling of love for children most universally captures the sense of joy, and innocence, freedom and delight, purity and raw, perfect beauty we are capable of feeling as humans. Effortlessly evoked within us by the presence of a child. So it is evoked. We feel bliss. We feel completely enchanted. Our eyes get dewy. Then what? What if... the impact of children settled in within us a bit deeper than we currently let it? What if... we allowed that feeling of love evoked by children, to guide our lives more fully? Nothing in my life has ever set "the bar" higher than Helena's existence. The love I feel for her means I do not swallow my bold words; I honor my feelings and intuition despite a culture that may see differently. I take better care of my body. I am more committed to my spiritual practice than before she was conceived. Her impact sends me on a deep-whale-dive to express more joy in this life. It means all that and so much more. The love I feel for her has raised the bar for everything. So what? What does a "raised bar" mean? Given that our lives play out in as many different ways as there are people, I imagine the answer will be different for everyone. And I am also curious if some patterns emerge. This is one of the biggest questions ever to surface within me; it gets at the deepest existential questions and roots of our being. If you relate to this feeling of being profoundly in love with the presence of children -- if you feel called forth to devote yourself more fully to "goodness" in whatever form that takes for you -- then what does that look like? Will you share? If the astounding beauty we can so easily see in children were to have its greatest impact on us as adults, then what..? What would that look like in your life? One of the most mind-altering things I've ever done is write a living will. I started writing without thinking, just writing from my heart about what I would want people to know if I were to die young and unexpectedly. It was instantly ego-crushing, and heart-opening. Writing my own living will brought the most important things in life to the surface of my attention and allowed the unimportant things to simmer out of sight. If you're looking for a way to paint your life with a touch of exquisite depth, consider writing your own Living Will. You don't need to get it notarized unless you want to. For now, it can just be an act of truth telling and a powerful way to listen to your clearest inner wisdom. Here's the exercise... Pull out a piece of paper and a pen. Take some deep breaths, inhale, exhale... to get grounded. Invite your heart to take center stage. Now imagine yourself suddenly passing on, so tomorrow when the sun rises, you are no longer physically embodied in the lives of those who love you most. (Thump.) At the top of the paper, write, "To the people who love me most in life..." and then continue writing whatever comes up in your mind. Here are some prompts: What is most important that they know about you? How would you like them to remember you? What hasn't been said that you'd like them to be aware of? How would you like them to handle any of the material things you possess? What are you grateful for, that they showed you, gave you, wanted for you? How would you want to be remembered? What kind of celebration or ceremony would you want them to hold in your honor? What is your wish for them in life? It can be two paragraphs, 5 pages, whatever your heart genuinely wants to spill. Kudos for taking a deep dive to let your inner wisdom be seen and, more than before, lived. |
AuthorJessica Rios, Founder of Leaning into Light, was born with a divine pen in her pelvis. Her heart writes for her; Love is her 'religion'. A lifelong letter writer and a thought leader in Love, her blog is devoted to her greatest passion: illuminating the beauty of the human spirit so we all move closer to remembering that Love is Who We Are. Categories
All
Archives
April 2024
|