Category Archives: Life

Shout it from the Mountain Tops

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It’s been almost three years. The first year full of fight and fear. The second full of awakening and appreciation. The third giving me the drive to share my story and shout it from the mountain tops. I’ve done a lot of growing in those three years. I finally feel like a woman. Ready to take on the journey of myself and what I’m all about. I’m not sure I would have had that if it wasn’t for my miscarriage and my subsequent fight with postpartum anxiety and depression.

In today’s world, we are supposed to move on. We are supposed to be thankful for the blessings we already have. Of course I am thankful. How could I not be thankful for the amazing little being I get to spend every day with? Thankful for the man that has stuck with me through my struggle and the most difficult time of our marriage. I’m thankful for family, who even though they may not have understood, were there for me. Friends who told me to be pissed, to cry, to be ok with not understanding - and then - to use it.

Use it? Yes, use it. Postpartum depression and anxiety can bring out a side of you that you don’t want to face, a part of you that you never even knew was there. It’s scary and liberating at the same time. It took me a long time to get to this part of healing. To be able to say, “I’m bigger than you!”

I’m bigger than you but I know you are there and I know how to deal with you. Anxiety is a strange thing. Once it’s there, it’s always there, just under the surface. A few years in, I feel its presence and sometimes I welcome it. Because it taught me I’m a fighter. I always knew I was but how does one “really” know until faced with adversity?

I don’t like to boast. I don’t like pity. But you better believe I’m going to use my struggle. Use it to show other women that they are strong. To show families that you can make it through. To know they aren’t alone. That it’s an obstacle and not an ending.

For me, coping with my miscarriage and PPA/PPD has come through sharing my story hoping it may help others or assist in eliminating the stigma that is attached to postpartum conditions. It’s come from throwing my struggle and passion into learning more about maternal mental illnesses and more about how I can help other women through my work as a postpartum doula.

A couple of years ago, I had the opportunity to lead a team of Warrior Moms in Louisville, KY during the first Climb Out of the Darkness event benefiting Postpartum Progress, Inc. I’m doing the same here in our new home this year.

If you feel inspired to participate in Climb Out of the Darkness on June 20th, there are two ways to do so:

1. Join our team in Colorado Springs! We’d love to see you there! Bring your families, friends and supporters and join us Warrior Moms in our “symbolic rise out of the darkness of maternal mental illness and into the light of hope and recovery.” Pretty awesome, huh?

2. Donate to the cause if you are not in the area or can’t make it to the event. Any support is appreciated and proceeds benefit Postpartum Progress, Inc.

You can also visit our event page on Facebook for location information and frequent updates on our progress!

This post is intended to raise awareness surrounding postpartum anxiety and depression and to support my team’s efforts for Climb out of the Darkness 2015 which benefits Postpartum Progress, Inc.

Postpartum Progress’ Climb Out of the Darkness™ is the world’s largest event raising awareness of maternal mental illnesses like postpartum depression, postpartum anxiety & OCD, postpartum PTSD, postpartum psychosis, postpartum bipolar disorder, and pregnancy depression and anxiety. Climb Out is held on or near the longest day of the year annually to help shine the most light on perinatal mood and anxiety disorders. The event features mothers and others across the globe joining together to climb mountains and hike trails to represent their symbolic rise out of the darkness of maternal mental illness and into the light of hope and recovery. Funds raised support the 501c3 organization Postpartum Progress (http://postpartumprogress.org)

How To Become a Doula in Colorado…..

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….or anywhere else for that matter.

First things first. Becoming a Doula requires Doula training, and more often than not, Doula certification. There are many training organizations out there for you to choose from. A quick Google search will bring them up. Here at Colorado Mountain Doulas Agency we use ProDoula to train and certify all of our agency doulas. We chose them because of their dedication to:

…….empower doulas to create a strong earning potential while doing something they love and are passionate about. ProDoula supports their Doulas in the nurturing way a ProDoula supports a client and is dedicated to the success and growth of each of its members.

We believe that EVERY Doula, no matter how long it’s been since their training should be paid a living wage to do the job they love and that means YOU!

Next up, well, that depends on your personality and background. Many Doulas feel ready to start working as soon as they’re done with training and they absolutely CAN do that. Important things to remember. This is a business. Treat it like one. Invest in yourself. Investment doesn’t stop at training. Get your marketing materials, website and social media in place, network like mad and charge no less than 90% of the going rate in your area.

If you’re not quite ready for all that or business just isn’t your thing, you have two other options.

1. Mentorship. I’ve written about mentorship before. There’s a lot in there for someone who gets excited about all of the business stuff too. The gist of a mentorship is finding a doula that you admire and see if they offer a program. Programs vary but you should expect to pay the Doula for their time mentoring you. Some Doulas like cash, some like a little sweat equity (someone PLEASE take my admin work) and some prefer a combination of both.

Make sure you ask questions about the program you’re entering. Make sure it will fill in the gaps you’re missing. Do you need hands on experience? Will you get to shadow births from the beginning? Will you only be called when the client is pushing in the hospital? Will you get to help or just stand in the corner and watch? Make sure the mentorship program you choose matches your personality. Sometimes a mentorship with an agency can move you right into……

2. Become an agency Doula. For the Doula who just isn’t that into business, this really is the perfect answer. Agencies are established companies with a brand, marketing, and clientele with several Doulas on staff. A trained Doula can apply with an agency and start work right away. Agency Doulas have little to no start-up fees other than their own training and personal expenses. They are 1099 employees; independent contractors. This doesn’t mean there is NO work involved, but it is considerably less than starting a business from scratch. You will be expected to carry agency business cards and spread the word, representing yourself in a professional manner to help bring the clients in, but you don’t have to worry about websites and branding and paying for marketing materials. You get to do what you love. Support families in their birthing year…..and make money doing it!

Ashton Tyler’s Birth

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It was 4 years after my first child was born before I began to realized that there was another way; a better way, for me, to bring my babies into the world. Before I was even pregnant with my second child I was lucky enough to meet a girl at work named Nadine. She was strong and confident and knew what she wanted….all things that I was not. She was less than a year older than me, but she knew things and had experienced things that I never had. Her first daughter had been born at home with a midwife. I thought she was crazy, but also, fascinating. We got to know each other well and I met her friend Johanna, who had had her first son at the birth center ran by the same midwife Nadine had used.

What was this? Of course I’d HEARD of natural birth. My Grandpa, when he was alive had teased me about having my first baby in a field, like our Native ancestors. I’d vaguely heard stories that my Aunt was a lay midwife in CA, but no one really talked about it too much. I had no details, just a vague idea that that was a hippy thing to do….. My mother had had a natural birth in the 70s in a hospital, but of course the story was always told in a very fear driven way. “Worst pain of your life” “Closest you come to dying” and many other things were thrown around while I was growing up.

All of a sudden I was meeting women my age who had not only had natural births, they had done it outside of a hospital and they had ENJOYED it! I was confused and afraid, but mostly, I was intrigued. The more I got to know these women the more I heard. Nadine’s sister had had home and birth center births. Their friends and friends of friends had had babies at home. The more I learned, the more I wanted to learn.

Not long after I met Nadine, she got pregnant with her second daughter. I’m pretty sure I drove her crazy with questions. I went to one of her midwife appointments with her and asked even more questions. “Do you carry pain medications?” “What if the baby isn’t breathing when it’s born?” I don’t know how many questions I asked, or if they were even the questions I should have been asking, but the more I learned the more I knew in my soul that this is what I wanted for my next birth.

I wasn’t even yet married to my husband, but I couldn’t stop learning more. The day I flew out to prepare for my out-of-state wedding, my sweet niece Kayli was born. I cried all the way to the airport knowing I would miss her birth. She was born, precipitously, at the birth center, instead of at home as planned, but everyone was home and in their beds by the end of the night. Fascinating.

Turns out, I also got pregnant with my second son that same week. At this point I knew that I wanted to birth at home. I researched like crazy. I found a Bradley Method Class and drug my new husband to it for 12 weeks. He was NOT convinced of the home birth plan. After almost every class we argued about whatever the subject for the night was. Slowly, the fear turned to knowledge and the knowledge turned to empowerment. I learned that the cascade of interventions I received during my first birth led to the fear and the urgency and contributed to my baby not breathing when he was born. I learned that pain is subjective and that labor pain has a purpose. I learned to trust myself and my husband and nature to guide us in the right direction. I learned that birth was not a medical situation, but a physiological one in which mother and baby work TOGETHER to bring baby into the world.

My husband learned that the things he was afraid of were more likely to happen in a hospital setting than at home. He didn’t want anyone to “tell us what to do”. He didn’t want anyone telling him how to take care of me or interfering in our personal space. He didn’t want our baby to be treated in an unsafe manner. The more he learned, the more he was on board with birthing our baby at home, together, in our bed.

We decided to use the same midwife my friends had used and we planned our home birth. At the time, my reasons for having a home birth were to prevent myself from allowing interventions. I was not a confrontational person. I’m still not. I knew that my innate fear of authority would keep me from speaking up when the time came. I knew that I wasn’t quite strong enough to say no if a doctor told me I NEEDED this that or the other thing. I didn’t want to battle. I didn’t want my husband to have to stand up for me. I didn’t want to have a weak moment during transition (almost ALL women do) where I asked for pain relief, because I knew it would be too easy to get it.

I made the decision to remove those options from my birthing environment. I knew that while I might not be strong enough to refuse interventions at the hospital, I would also be too embarrassed to do a transfer in my weak moment. (The mind of an introvert) I knew that my midwife would not have interventions to offer me, no matter how weak I became. I knew that I would be forced to be strong. I wanted to force myself to work through it. The hospital where my first son was born was only a ten minute drive away. This was the perfect way for me to transition from a completely medicalized birth to a natural birth.

On July 26th my husband was set to go to work in the afternoon and our oldest was in NY visiting his Aunt. He was set to fly home that evening, 9 months and 15 days after 9/11. We ran errands during the day, enjoying our last few hours of alone time and I had what felt like contractions to me.

Because my first birth had been induced, I didn’t really know what contractions felt like. I only knew hard, pitocin induced contractions that scared me and were almost immediately dulled by drugs. I’d taken the classes, I’d studied a lot, but you never really know until it happens. Turns out, these were probably just Braxton Hicks contractions, but I did not know that at the time.

The “contractions” continued throughout the day. My husband called in to work just in case and we contacted my friend Nichole about potentially picking my son up from the airport. This was during that period of time after 9/11, but before flying restrictions got really tight and the airline agreed to let her pick him up for us. Lucky us, because that changed shortly after.

We went home and I continued to have “contractions”. I was excited to have the baby because my husband would be on a three-day weekend. What better way to start Paternity leave? My husband went to the store to get food for later and at some point I took castor oil in some orange juice to get things going. GROSS! This is NOT something I recommend, but it “seemed” to work for me. Things got stronger, my son came home and my friend stayed. We called the midwife and my parents and my Doula, Tonya . (I’d only met her a week before and she had been planning to come the very next day to do pregnancy photography for us)

When we called the midwife she originally asked me to come in to her office (a 45 minute drive) to get checked. I refused 1. because I didn’t want to get in a car, that was the point of homebirth, and 2. because my friend Nadine had gone to the birth center to ‘get checked’ and ended up birthing there and not making it home. I did not want the same thing to happen to me, so I convinced her to come. This was my mistake.

The midwife arrived around 11PM and checked me…..I was only 1cm! As mentioned before, what I thought were “contractions” were probably only braxton hicks and then taking the castor oil just continued to irritate things which was most likely giving me stomach cramps, not contractions. I felt extremely guilty for dragging her out at night and a little dumb for thinking this was it. I was only 38 weeks along, but when I asked what to do next the midwife said “Well, I’m here now, we’re going to have a baby!” Because I felt guilty I consented to letting her stretch my cervix manually. THAT was painful, but didn’t take long because my cervix was super soft and effacement was already beginning. When she was done, I was 4cm.

While writing this I asked my husband if he remembered if my midwife broke my water right then after the stretching or if she let me go for a while. (This is 12 years ago, people, excuse my memory lapse.) He says she let me go for a while and that I got into our garden tub. I do not remember that at all. Interesting.

So about an hour later the midwife checked me again and I was still a 4. She asked if she could break my water and I consented; again, out of guilt. Everyone was here just waiting on me…… For me, things got extremely intense. All I could do was lay on my right side, in the side lying position we’d learned in Bradley. I remember laying there, overwhelmed at the intensity, visualizing Pioneer women birthing their babies in log cabins. All I could do was allow the energy to wash over me. I would pass out between contractions and moan at the peak. From the outside looking in, it looked like nothing was happening at all. I appeared to be resting. On the inside I was riding intense waves of energy, letting go of all control and experiencing the power of my own body to birth a baby naturally.

An hour after that, at 2AM I was still a 4. Nichole had to leave. She was 4 months pregnant herself and had to work the next day. We said goodbye between contractions and I went back to (what looked to everyone else) sleeping. Even the midwife tucked herself into a corner for a snooze.

At some point my moans must have turned to grunts because the midwife recognized the sound, woke up and discovered I was at 10cm. It had been less than 45 minutes since she last checked me.

Right around this same time my doula showed up. (In her defense, I didn’t truly understand the role of a doula and when we called her I was NOT actually in labor. She had gotten up right away, taken her kids where they needed to be and headed over to a house she’d never been to. She had no idea what had been taking place at the house.) When she arrived she noticed what looked like a full moon and took a quick picture. That’s when she heard me. “I knew that sound. You were pushing.”

She hurried to the front door and knocked. My dad answered it (He had been hanging out in the living room with my oldest) and pointed her to the back bedroom.

I don’t really remember pushing. I remember laying in my bed, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. I remember the midwife asking my husband if he wanted to catch (he didn’t) and guiding his hands to help our baby out (he loved it) The pushing part is a blur. It happened quickly.

By the time Tonya made it to the bedroom, Ashton was already born.

We were ecstatic! I did it! I felt so happy and proud of myself and my husband. I had never felt more powerful or accomplished. I was HIGH on oxytocin, in awe of my body and in LOVE with this new little being.

My sweet little one, covered in vernix, was put on my chest immediately and after his initial cry, he was very very quiet and peaceful. He didn’t scream, he didn’t gasp, he just laid there, quietly in my arms with his little eyes closed. This was the first homebirth my doula had attended and she told me much later that inside she was freaking out a little. She’d only attended hospital births where everything is rushed and so much emphasis is put on getting baby to yell like a banshee that she at first thought something was wrong. She didn’t understand why the midwife wasn’t rubbing him up and/or giving him oxygen to get him going.

The midwife knew though, that my baby was still attached to his placenta. He was still getting oxygen rich blood, just as he had been for the past nine months and breathing was not yet necessary. He did breathe on his own and it didn’t take long, probably less than a minute. My dad and oldest son had heard the initial cry and came into the room to meet him.

The midwife asked my husband if he wanted to cut the cord. He did, and he didn’t like it. He was surprised by how strong it was, and by the fact that it didn’t just snip with one cut the way he’d expected. It grossed him out a little, but then, he was holding our sweet baby boy for the first time.

The midwife checked our son out while my husband held him and the doula noticed indentations on both of his heels. She took a picture of it because she’d never seen it before, but I knew exactly what it was from. During the last few weeks of my pregnancy I kept saying that it felt like my son was pushing on my ribs, spreading them out, and he was. He had the heel indentations to prove it. They went away within a few hours after his birth.

After several minutes of baby meeting the family while the placenta was birthed, the midwife weighed him. 7lbs, 6 oz. Daddy got the honor of putting on his first diaper and the midwife showed him how to swaddle while I talked to my mom in Colorado. He then came back to me and she helped him to latch for the first time.

I got up to take a shower and everyone passed our new little bundle of joy around. His big brother was so proud!

Less than an hour after birthing my baby I was up and in the kitchen eating a big ‘ol sandwich prepared by my husband. I sat at the kitchen island holding my baby, surrounded by my family and my doula, snapping away the entire time.

After a wardrobe change when I realized I could not breastfeed in a full length t-shirt type nightgown, we settled on the couch and went over all the postpartum things with my midwife. She kissed me goodbye, my parents left and my doula put us all to bed to sleep for the night, er, early morning.

Our lives were transformed.

This little man is twelve today. Happy Birthday Ashton Tyler!

All photography courtesy of http://www.tonyagervacio.com/

New Journey, New Life

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It’s a wonderful feeling to discover your true calling. It feels like….peace. For the first time in my life I feel like I know where I’m going and I know how to get there. I actually discovered my calling to be a doula about 11.5 years ago when my second son was born but only now after many many huge life changes have I had the ability to follow my true passion.

My second son was born at home in my bedroom in the first house we ever owned with his grandmother, father, and midwife. My doula almost missed it; it went so fast. Grandpa and big brother were in the living room on the couch waiting patiently for the new arrival. The labor was very fast and hard and the most empowering thing I have ever experienced.

The birth of my oldest son had not been a pleasant experience. He was born in a hospital with a rushed doctor surrounded by and engulfed in technology. It was over 4 years before I even realized the full implications of that experience and once I started learning, I couldn’t stop. I was determined to never let that happen to me again.

Initially my reason for home birth was simply that I didn’t want to have pain medication available to me and I didn’t want dangerous interventions available to my care givers. I knew that if I went back to a hospital it would be too easy to have a similar experience. It would be too easy to take the medication. I wanted to stay as far away from that experience as possible.

After the birth of my second son I felt amazing. I felt strong and happy and healthy and ready to conquer the world. I wanted every woman to feel that way about their births. I became addicted to birth knowledge, breastfeeding and anything even remotely related to birthing. I became an advocate for natural birth and I loved it.

My third son was also born at home, in the same bed as his brother and that birth was truly magical. It was easy, slow, fun, and relaxing. My new midwife, husband and two doulas were there with me and we chatted and laughed between contractions. We had a photo shoot during my labor pause at 6 cm when contractions stopped for about two hours. We just generally enjoyed the experience. If I wanted more children, I would totally do that over and over and over again. It was the best thing I’ve ever done.

The birth of my third son cemented in my mind that I wanted to be a doula. I wanted to be surrounded by that magical experience all the time, without actually having more children of my own. Unfortunately, with three little boys under the age of 9, a husband working full time plus and no “village” to fall back on, the life of a doula was not yet within my reach. Being a doula requires being on call 24 hours a day 7 days a week for up to a month at a time and the availability of childcare to coincide with that. Instead, I settled for working part time here and there when it worked for the family. I worked from home as a wellness consultant and volunteered for a natural healers organization in my “spare” time. I spent the next few years “virtual” doulaing my friends across the country. Providing them with research and support even though I could not be there physically.

Fast forward about 6 years and life has completely changed for us. Some things are definitely for the better, some, not so much, but I did find myself with some expendable income and time to take a doula training class as well as a childbirth education class. I was ecstatic! I was finally going to follow my passion! And then, life got in the way again and I became the sole breadwinner in the household. Moving to a new state, getting kids in new schools, finding a new job, dealing with a shady landlord, the timing just wasn’t quite right.

Here I am, two years later, with a flexible job that allows me the time off I need, a 17 year old son who can babysit at a moments notice (he has no choice, bwahahahahaha!), a husband at home and two not so little ones who are pretty much capable of taking care of themselves for short periods.

I joined a local doula organization, started working on my certification and made an awesome doula friend who started recommending my services when she wasn’t available. The first birth I officially attended as a doula was for a very dear friend. It was her fifth baby, and her second homebirth. It was very low key and she really didn’t “need” me much other than to just be there, but it was beautiful.

Today, I am 6 births into this amazing new journey with another little one coming next month. I’m also beginning my teaching journey next month, teaching Early Pregnancy Preparation and it feels like this is right. THIS is what my soul has been looking for and I wake up every day happy to be following my passion.

Be Well,

Jenn