Seeing

I am remembering a time with Morgan. She was a junior in high school (wow..not that long ago, really). She was taking way too many classes, was working and volunteering. All this means she was way over extended. Stress was the order of the day.

And as such, as in all living situations where we feel safe enough to be mean, she was being a major bitch most of the time.

One day, I remember being at her bedroom door. For whatever reason, she was having a teen temper tantrum. Immediately I felt my walls go up. I started to engage. Then I looked at my baby. I went inside her to what was underneath the yelling. I flashed on what I feel like when I feel what she was acting out.

I breathed, I looked at her and I asked: "Do you need a hug?"

Stop.

She catches her breath, looks shocked, her eyes burning into mine. I see her body twitch, her face contort as she breaks into sobs. I held her for a long long time until she was done.

I wish I could remember the power of seeing deeper in every situation where people are acting in ways that scream pain.

image borrowed from Theoloblog

Breakfast With Cass

We don't hang out much. Even though she still lives at home, we have our separate lives. She's a busy college student, I am focused on work. Plus, we have our dynamic that gets in the way.

We had it again at breakfast. For the most part, we just talked, laughed and had a good time. At one point it almost slipped over the edge, but we caught our dynamic at work, changed the subject in enough time to let it go. I wish it wasn't there. Darnit..it shows up when I least expect it and it catches me off guard. Whenever I don't agree with her or have any sort of suggestion or difference in viewpoints, she sees it me criticizing her. As I'm just talking like I would with anyone else, I don't guard myself for her reaction. I step into it more than I want to. I lose my inner balance with her in ways that are unique to our relationship- this dynamic doesn't exist with anyone else on the planet.

"How is school going?"

"Fine. I am going to have to apply for financial aid again soon so just wanted to warn you."

"Oh, really? Wow...that's interesting. From what I understand, you apply by March 2 in California for the school year. But, OK."

"We have to apply then and then again for the next year."

"Huh? Well...ok..but that wasn't the way it was when I was in school ten years ago and then with Morgan for the past few years. But, ok."

"Well I guess all my counselors are wrong then, Mom, as they all said the same thing." (said with much agitation and sarcasm)

"OK...maybe things have changed."

This same interaction with anyone else wouldn't have had the energy, the anger behind it that she felt with me.

How is it that we change long term patterns with people we're in relationship with? It's an issue with marriage partners, friends and children. I know the steps, and it takes two. I feel we're getting better. Maybe all it takes is time, patience and being conscious that it exists. If we want it to change then I believe it will. I just wish it didn't exist. I keep wondering what happened that she feel so wounded in this way to feel so defensive with me. I wonder why much of what she says to me hurts. This dynamic doesn't exist with the other girls.

It kind of reminds me of my family situation. Our experience of our parents is so different that my sister and I have decided we were raised by a different set of parents. I came to terms long ago that much of what I thought were the my parents problems had lots more to do with me and the fact that they were learning (I am the oldest). I don't have that luxury with Cass, though. I was well versed in the parenting department when she came along. Or should have been.

I don't think that parenting styles is the only thing at work in how we influence our childrens' lives. Whatever we do, whatever we say has to go throught their unique filter and be interepreted and incorporated by them. We have no say, no control in this. Families are all just living together working with who and what we are.

Art:
Maternity, Nature and Peace by Sunol Alvar

Getting Out Of The Way

My middle daughter, Morgan, is in Germany right now, living her dreams being an actor. Her part is in German. She doesn't speak German. Before she left she was working at it lots to get the part down but was struggling. She's doing the project with a young man she sees as her soul mate. They were having issues before she went over. She was worried about losing time at work, how she was going to be able to keep up with her bills, worried about the part, had stress all the way around. She kept calling me to talk it through and I, for the most part, would keep my mouth shut. But at one point, I felt I had to ask her why she was going.

Before she left, I was feeling protective. I was worried for her, made sure she had the calling card before she left because I was "sure" she was going to be continually calling me in pain like she's done for so many years. She still believes she needs my support to keep emotionally balanced.

This morning, while walking with my good friend, I was recalling my mother, dead now for seventeen years. I was telling my friend that I felt sad about never really getting to know her; that she died before I really got the chance to know her as her instead of her as "my mom."

It wasn't until her death that I started to ask questions about her which my age finally gave me perspective on--like looking at the subjects she chose when she did her art. The bulk of her paintings are either family or sacred art. I remember back to the things she exposed me to, political issues, cultural perspectives, sociology, history, art. At a very early age, she exposed me to other ways of thinking that were unusual for the times. She was an interesting woman, with interesting ideas who grew up and came into adulthood at a time when women weren't supported for their uniqueness as much as they are today.

From my perspective, how I read her life, is that she had all this aliveness going on but didn't have the strength to fight the times to express it fully. She had an art scholarship to study in Brussels then got pregnant with me so didn't go. Just when she got life in order for herself, got a job which would have totally suited her designing window displays at Marshall Fields in Chicago. She got pregnant with my brother. This kind of took care of her dreams of being an artist.

My ideas about my Mom are that she kept herself small to maintain what she thought was the "right" thing for a woman and mother to do. She sublimated who she was. In the meantime, she ran a very clean and organized house, loved us dearly. She was always cautious. I was overly protected, always told to watch myself in life, to look both ways, to think ahead, to be safe.

I look at Morgan. I look at my Mom. I look at myself being a Mom to Morgan. I see the remnants and unconscious ways in which I carry my Mother inside me. I see the pieces and parts of wanting my girl to be happy so wanting to protect her. I tell her to think ahead, to plan, to consider, to try to mitigate the negative possibilities that could occur--just like my Mom did for me, just like she lived her life.

For awhile now, even though Morgan asks for my perspectives, I've been telling her I don't want to give them to her. She pushes me, asking for my views because she tells me she sees me as wise. Sometimes I respond, sometimes I remain quiet.

She's flying over there. Every obstacle she encountered is flowing away like magic. She's been invited back to act and pursue other projects, even though she doesn't speak the language. The relationship is flowing and she's making other contacts. And when I think of how I was so concerned for her about going I'm happy I kept most of my fears to myself.

This guiding your children thing is not an easy one to navigate. There's a wiggly line between wanting to "educate" or give another perspective and teaching them to not trust their Inner Voice. When my kids reached their teens I adopted a pretty hands off sort of parenting style, but I am now seeing the subtlities of "suggestions" and "wanting to guide" as being an insidious element in their lives that if not watched and incrementally toned down as they age. If not, all that loving intention might get in the way of some pretty exciting living. Life is about taking chances. As parents we want our kids to be happy in their choices. I understand why my Mom kept trying to control my life in all the myriad, loving ways she did. It's not easy to stand and watch our kids when things "seem" like the cards are stacked against them. But I think it's vital.

The photo is of the South Pillar region of Carina Nebula. I copied it from our government space place, NASA. It's a place where stars are born. It's about creation.

The Thing About Organic Food Is.....

Moths!!!!

The little buggers are everywhere! I've taken pride over the years in buying organic foods. I buy my organic grains, flours, all my spices, lots of my teas in bulk. I learned long ago from smaller infestations to put everything in the freezer a few days before storing, but even with that precaution I have the worst crop of them EVER!

I have those little sticky traps in the kitchen, the garage and the library. They are supposed to last three months and mine last three weeks. The sticky stuff gets all fuzzy from their little death throw flutterings and no longer traps their friends. I spend time every few hours walking around with my broom squishing them while imagining myself to be

Our Old Friend, The Grim Reaper

Or.....

Hecate, the Goddess of Death.

I've searched high and low for their food source, scoured out shelves, checked here and there and I cannot find what keeps them here. It's been suggested that I am attracting them from the pheremones in the traps so now I keep all the doors closed, even though my Spring is always a time when they are open.

I am beginning to wonder if this is a sign of the beginning of the Tribulation.

Even though it's been tremendously fun to be a mass murderer and get agressions out, I'm sick of them. I guess chemicals have their place.

Photo credits:

Mothra from Monster Island News

Hecate from Hecate (so I figure they know what she looks like)

The Grim Reaper from Starcraft.org

Informative Commercial Break:

If you are looking for organic food and herbal remedies you can find great resources and products online. Whether you simply want to eat healthier or for homeopathic joint pain relief you can find exactly what you need and order it to your home.

My Birth Stories

But not my birth pictures*.....

Starla's Birth

I was not in tune with my body at all. As I had been anorexic awhile in high school, I had a history of missed periods. So when I got pregnant with her, I was such a ditz, I didn't even think pregnancy a consideration. My breasts changed, my nipples were darker. But it wasn't until my sixth month when I got back from a hitchhiking trip with my husband and was lying in bed, put my hand on my belly and felt a big bump and said..hm...it's either a baby or I have cancer.

We got drunk the next afternoon when we got the positive pregnancy test back. I was a smoker and a drinker that pregnancy. My first question was "how the hell does one even BE pregnant in this country? (meaning what were the steps in getting a doctor, and all the basic life skills it involved). Like I said...not that connected....and I will now add not tremendously conscious.

It didn't seem like I was pregnant too long (well...because I wasn't conscious of it too long). The labor was short and intense. We had just gotten back from a road trip down south the night before. I was almost asleep when I felt pressure, jumped out of bed as my bag of waters popped. Five hours later she was born.

But only after and incredibly intense labor in the hospital. First time labors, from three centimeters dialation (when active labor generally sets in...10cm is called complete) until delivery, are on average about eight hours. I was three when I got into the hospital. It was so fast, no one even paid attention to me because they thought I was still in labor. They did give me an enema (yes....those were still done in '79) which really made it kick in.

I was puking with every contraction. Lovely. My husband was completely freaked out as we had only attended a couple of classes (we were "officially" early given the obstetrician assigned due date) and he felt lost with how intense it was. It got pretty funny when they realized I was complete and pushing when they thought I was still at 4 centimeters dialation.

As I had never seen a baby born before, when she came out all bluish pink and covered in goo, quiet, I remember thinking...oh....that's sad...she's dead. But she wasn't. She pinked right up. Three minutes after she was born, the doctor decided the placenta needed to be out, so he vigorously massaged my uterus. It was so forceful that tons of blood splashed all over him and the wall. After the birth, I shook violently.

When everything calmed down and we were alone, she looked into my eyes and we stared for a long time. I cried. This was a very old, very wise soul. I was in love. I will never forget that moment.

Morgan's Birth

I had been a midwife for a number of years. I was not smoking. We had kindasorta been talking about maybe having another kid but were still using birth control. One time we had protected sex and three days later I knew I was pregnant. I had quit smoking years before, didn't drink. I ate really well, took care of myself.

Four of my midwife friends were my attendants at my homebirth. The day I went into labor was a planned "take out a tree stump day," so that is where my husband's focus was. I had been having practice contractions for weeks. That day, I had a contraction that would catch my attention, then not have one for a half hour. Have two then have none forever. I felt like it was labor day, but was totally confused as to when that might be. I called my friends to let them

know to be ready, but wasn't ready for them to come over yet.

It went on like this until the afternoon. Then I was ready, even though I wasn't really having many contractions and they weren't very strong. I told everyone to come over. My friend and midwife partner, Jean, checked me...I was at 6cm. I told her "break the fucking bag." She did. I had about ten stronger contractions...still far apart. Then I puked. I had ten more contractions, puking a bit more each time. Then Morgan came quietly into the world. No crying. Nursed, happy, calm, sweet with her sister and father right there. I shook violently after the birth.

The midwives made us a meal, cleaned my house and left us a happy family.

Cassidy's Birth

I had always been in charge of birth control. Because I could always tell where I was in my cycle by my cervical mucous, part of my system was to not have sex when I was getting close to ovulating. One marginal mucous Saturday morning, Patrick wanted to fuck. I thought it unwise, but he persisted. I told him, fine but he had to wear a condom. It fell off.

I spent the whole weekend "talking" with her spirit. Finally, I told her that if she wanted to come in, I was ready to be her Mom. I felt myself ovulate the next day. I felt her enter me.

All during Cass' pregnancy, I kept thinking I didn't want any attendants at the birth. I wanted to do it alone, preferably in some field. I have no idea where these thoughts came from but they persisted. However...the day of her birth it was a zoo. We had the Starla and Morgan, my husband, four midwife friends, one extra trusted friend to be a care person to be there for a very young Morgan, and two extra midwives' kids. I spent most of the time in the bathroom or the bedroom, requiring the door to be shut. No one allowed in. It felt like my cave.

I had putsyputsy labor with her, too. But then I kicked into an active labor pattern for a few hours. I puked. I stayed in my hovel until the very end. I wanted it dark, required everyone to be quiet. I felt like an animal. Hers was the first birth I did on all fours. She came out with her arms wrapped close up on her chest so that when her shoulders cleared, her arms were out, embracing the world before the rest of her body came in between contractions. After the birth I shook violently.

She wouldn't open her eyes, though....kept them closed tightly. I asked for more privacy, but there was definitely was tons of noise in the house behind that door. Eventually we had to move into the living room for them to clean up the birthing bed. We stayed in a chair until everyone left. Starla, Morgan and Patrick were all asleep when the final midwife left. As the door clicked shut, Cass' eyes opened. And stayed open for quite some time looking into mine in the stillness of the night.

*Photo credits from top down

Pregnant Belly from Organic Baby Style

Hospital Bed from Istockphoto

Homebirth picture from Minnesota Families For Midwifery

Homebirth baby in hanging cloth scale from River and Mountain Women's Health

Mother and Child on Bed from BirthSpirit

The What If? Game

My Dad used to be a lawyer who fancied himself a philosopher. Some of my favorite memories of him are when he used to try and get us to think. He would always try to "train our minds" by continually taking the Devil's advocate position.

When my kids were growing up, I took this theme and created a game with them that I named the "What If?" game. Basically, I would give them a scenario that would involve having to make an ethical judgment call.

One day, Morgan and I were doing something, can't remember for the life of me what it was.

"Mom...want to play the What If? Game?"

"Sure."

"What if someone came to you and told you that you had to choose one of your kids to have killed? That one had to die and you had to choose. Which one of us would you choose?"

"The one who asked a question like this in the What If? game."

Morgan

taken from here

My middle daughter, Morgan, is an arteest. She's primarily into theatre, although she also paints and writes fabulously. After she graduated from High School, she moved to LA to pursue her lifelong dreams of "making it." She went to an Arts Academy then started working at a coffee shop to support herself.

She joined a theatre troupe. Most of the others in the troupe are older and more experienced than she is. She went through lots when she first started. She felt inadequate. Part of her process was that she had to come to terms with her anger around the fact that I was too busy to be a "soccer mom" when she was young. Not that she was into soccer, but I didn't cart her to various voice, dance and acting lessons when she was a kid.

In the end, she took the high road and remembered that people will create their lives in the ways they want them. There are plenty of people who get a later start in life and to sit and blame the past gets you nowhere. She's a pretty amazing person and in a very short time she came out stronger, seeing that all she needed to do in this situation was to just forgive herself for not being where she wanted to be (like she doesn't have an Oscar yet) and to be gentle with herself for not being "better" at acting because she is learning. That once she starts putting herself into something she ALWAYS masters, excels and shines in it.

I am so exceedingly proud of her for following her dreams. It is not always easy and given that she is, of course, a drama queen, I get plenty of anguished phone calls. She gets so caught up in things not being perfect from time to time, feeling like "her life is over" and she will never get to her goal. Each time we have to revisit that she IS accomplishing everything she dreamed of and is actually ahead of schedule. And, each month these phone calls get less and less frequent. She is becoming surer of herself as she takes her steps, one by one, and lives her dreams.

I admire all those who stick to something and perfect it- overcoming incredible odds both inside and out. Of the two, I see the biggest hurdles being the inner ones. The things we tell ourselves to not shine! I stand in awe of my daughter for, in the end, always keeping her sparkle no matter what's in front of her.

When Starla Grew Up

photo taken from here

My girls are extremely different people. None of them has finished high school in a traditional way.

Starla, the eldest, was 15 when we divorced. She dealt with it emotionally by shutting down. She would spend days reading, in what we called "her nest." It was a corner she would make with pillows and a blanket. She would grab some food and get lost in her world.

Originally, our child custody agreement was that the kids would spend one week with my ex, then one week with me. When Starla was with me, she would miss at least one day per week of school. She needed the time at home to have full attention on her, to be able to heal. I talked to her school counselor, told her what was going on and it was agreed that as long as she kept up with her school work, it would be fine to continue. It was great--all I had to do was to call the counselor, tell her that Starla needed a home day and she would clear it. Sometimes she missed three days a week. But she kept her grades mostly A's with a B here and there so it worked out.

How did she finally get out of her depression? I took her to a talk given by a founding member of Greenpeace, one of the radical whale protectors. She woke up, got involved, found a reason to engage in life again. But that's not what this post is about.

When she was 17, I came back from being out of town for a few days and my house was full of hippies. Hm....says I...she likes one of these guys. I was right. She liked one of them so much, that after a few months of them being in town, she decided she wanted to become a part of their gypsy family. She was going to travel the country, feeding the poor, living a life of art, music and Rainbow Family consciousness.

Time to BREATHE deeply. Lots.

What about finishing high school? Have you thought about money? Where will you get it? How will you support yourself? Oh..you'll play music in parks? Um....it's October. And last night when you played music downtown how many people were there? 14. And how much money did you make? $27 And how long did that take? 4 hours. Hm...and do you think that a very efficient and effective way to make money?

And, Sweetie...they call themselves "The Kitchen" and say they are going to feed the poor, yes? Um...have you noticed that they either eat here or at the Jesus Center? Yes, Mom. I've thought about all of that and I still want to go.

I was terrified. I was impressed and excited that she felt confident enough in herself to do this.

What to do? She is obviously deeply in love with this man and he with her. She wants this. She has talked of leaving and travel. She wants adventure just like you wanted it at her age. But you, Pamm, were too caught up in "doing the right thing" at her age and did not have the courage to do it on your own. How to support her, how to give her the message that you trust in her and her choices and still help her to be safe???

She was totally committed to this. I feel that if I had not given her permission, there is a good chance she would have gone anyway. I was terrified for her, physically and where this might lead her with not finishing high school.

I gave her my blessings with two conditions. I would not financially support her. That if she thought she could do this, I would not stop her. But I was not comfortable with her decision about leaving school so would not support that. If she felt she could be mature enough to do this, she would have to make it on her own. The only thing I would support and require was that I would get her a phone card. And she had to promise me that she would call me every night and tell me where she was, when they were going to leave and where they were going next. I needed to know she was safe and where she was in case something happened. I needed to have some way to hopefully find her.

She left. I cried lots. I knew in my heart it was the best route for her development, but it scared me. Especially since I would have NO support in handling it this way from traditional childrearing philosophies. Many of my friends were shocked. Who the hell would give their kid blessings for taking a path that took her away from finishing high school? What kind of mother would let her kid take off with a bunch of smelly people who didn't have jobs on a road trip with no money? Would she end up dead? And if so, wouldn't I be to blame?

It was a very scary time. But I kept praying, kept trusting her Spirit to guide her. Kept asking mine to help me support her highest good.

So how did it end up?

They all got scabies. Her hands got badly infected and she had to figure out how to handle that. She and Kevin ended up getting frustrated with the group and left it within a few weeks. They decided to hitchhike to Iowa to be with his family. At one truck stop in Wyoming, they were informed that hitchhiking in that state is illegal. They were stuck there for three days. She had accidentally left her winter coat in the truck that had dropped them off. It was November. She got sick. When they got to Iowa, Kevin's mother let them stay there, but Starla was so sick, I guess she was pretty out of it. Eventually she got better, but hated Iowa because it was a foreign land to her. There was no food she would eat. The fridge was full of sodas, the bread was white, I think she was in her vegetarian stage. She had no friends, no loving warmth of family.

Then "reality" really hit her. She went to apply for a job. When she filled out the application, she understood what she had done. For the rest of her life, when she filled out an application for employment and got to the part about school that she would not be able to say she had graduated from high school.

I invited her back. I told her that she and Kevin could live with us until they got settled here with their own place to live. They arrived before Christmas (this made me very happy). She contacted the Home School program in January and finished her coursework within six weeks.

Amazing what self motivation can do for a person.

What I learned?

-That children have their own Path and we are not a part of it. It's our job to support them.

-I wonder if part of the reason that people stay at their parents' houses longer now is because we don't let them grow up, don't give them room to be individuals. I think we parents may foster dependence through our fears.

-That my highest intention of parenting was to foster healthy and whole emotional growth. And that sometimes this means that encouraging growth and nuturing my child to trust herself takes me places that touch my edges. But if I keep my primary intent and listen to My Inner Voice, instead of following the status quo and my fears, that so much more is learned and experienced than I can possibly imagine. She learned so much from that adventure that stays with her and made her part of who she is today. To have tried to stop this would have been a crime.

-That kids are smart. That even if they choose things we think are unwise in the moment, that they are being guided by their spirits to learn what they came here to learn. And if we get out of the way they will learn it on their own with no need for us to try and knock it into their heads.
And that there is no way I can ever know what they have come here to learn, be and live.

I'm so happy that things turned out the way they did. They might not have. She learned the lessons she needed on her own, overcame obstacles and grew. Did I do the right thing? Was there really any right choice? I think the greatest illusion we hold of parenting is that, in the end, we really have any control at all....

Choosing Motherhood

I've always loved my girls. None of them were planned pregnancies. I've always called them "gifts." I love them, cared for them in the best ways I knew how and always put them first. But it wasn't until after my divorce that I truly embraced motherhood as a conscious choice.

After my ex and I separated, I was involved in a number of personal growth workshops. Many of them were in the Bay Area (I live in Northern California). I had always lived my life for others and was ready to live fully without being tied to anyone or anything.

This started to seep over into my feelings toward my children. Many of the others who participated in the workshops had left their families, making a break from their past in all sorts of ways. I had a few judgments about some of the women. It flipped me out that a Mother could choose to abandon her children. The more I looked at myself in those judgments, the more I saw that I was judging them because I felt trapped.

Part of inner growth work involves being completely honest with yourself, even if you don't like what you see. It's about learning to stop judging those parts of ourselves that are 'true' but that don't necessarily have support in the culture at large. It's about learning to embrace our Dark.

When I started to tell myself the truth about how I really felt about being a Mother, I discovered I didn't want to be one. I hated having my whole life revolve around having to take care of them. I resented that they had intruded upon my life, requiring my attention, requiring that I constantly and consistently devote everything I had to them. I hated that I was required to always lose my identity, forget about what I wanted for them. I had no life, I had these shackles.

And I started to entertain the idea of leaving them with their father, moving two and half hours away to be free. I started to imagine being one of those women who could abandon her children. I dealt with all my self judgments, all my internal voices about what an awful person I was to be able to even consider leaving them. I admitted that although I had energy around fathers leaving their kids, it had no comparison in my mind with the abomination of a mother leaving them.

I finally reached the point where I dealt with all those voices and gave myself permission to leave them.

But an odd thing happened. As soon as I gave myself permission, as soon as I dealt with all the reasons why I didn't want to be there and allowed myself to feel them and still see myself as an OK human being, the need to leave disappeared.

For the first time since I had been a Mom, I no longer felt obligated to be there. I was now there because of Choice. I wanted to be in their lives, finally felt it the primary place I wanted to be with all my heart and soul.

The kids felt it, too. I think we all know and feel the difference between someone who is there because they HAVE to be there and the ones who WANT to be there. And my kids finally had a Mom who was able to say to them: Your life, You are the most important thing to me. I want to be with you. I want to walk beside you, share in your life, be there for you.

When they were older, I told them about this time. At first they would get a scared look on their faces as I would be recounting the part about deciding to leave. But then their faces would beam when I got to that last part. Kids get it.

Cass

Two days ago, my youngest daughter, Cass, told me she signed a lease for an apartment. She's moving out in July.

Finally.

I love her. I also like the person she has become. And of the three girls, she and I have the most strained relationship. I am used to being adored. Cass does not adore me. In fact, she's pretty critical both overtly and subtley. We talk about it and she does not know where her expectations of me come from.

I keep wondering if she/we will outgrow it. I keep wondering if we will be able to overcome our mutual wariness of each other. I get whisperings of it, and then this week she is aloof again, distant. She hears everything coming out my mouth as criticism. I get tired of her putting me down. The other two girls are constantly telling us we're weird together, that we have issues. It's true.

I admire Cass. When she was 17, she finished Homeschool early and didn't know what to do with her life. She took a few weeks moping, then one day when I was out of town, she called and said that her dad had suggested she be an au pair. She told me she had gone online, posted an ad with a few services and had a family who wanted her to start in Germany. She was gone in a month.

I was so impressed with her bravery. She didn't understand why, even when I told her most adults wouldn't do what she was doing alone- first job, first time moving out, living in a different culture where she didn't speak the language, moving in with people she didn't know. Pretty scary.

And once she got there, she understood. She struggled there trying to fit in and had a difficult time with the Mom. She quit and moved out within about six months because she was miserable after trying her best to make it go well. Actually, that time of her life was the one we were the closest. She needed me then and needed my daily calls to keep hold of herself. She would whine if I needed to get off the phone before an hour was up. She clung to the connection and the safety of home. It was sweet.

I've been reading Mommie blogs these last few days and it's made me think lots about when my kids were smaller. I am reminded of the tremendous amount of physical and emotional work it takes to raise a child, much less multiples. I remember back to when they were little and see how some aspects of their personalities have remained the same. And as they grow there are constant new little pieces of "them" that come out of the woodwork to surprise and thrill me.

I think she'll do fine. She is developing a social awareness that is seeping into our relationship a bit. She's had a sense of entitlement that has been at the core of much of our dynamic. But her eyes are opening, I think, to the Blessings that she has been afforded.

I'm excited that she is taking this step. Excited for her and for me. I am ready to move on from being a custodial Mom. The role of Mom will never leave, but it is different when the kids move out. I know that she is afraid of being able to "make it," but I have confidence she'll do well.

Tantrum Time

from

I am a much better parent of teens than younger kids. Much.

Awhile back, I was in a store. There was a five year old girl there with her father. She was screaming, in typical five year old fashion. I have no idea what about, but I remembered those times when my kids might have had the same response to life when it was not going the way they wanted it to.

I looked at her, looked at the Dad and said to my friend:
"Give me drugs, sex and rock and roll any day over that!"

And I meant it. Any. Day.

No Means No (ages 1-5)

"Mother and Child"Gustav Klimt

The most difficult job as a parent is to figure out how to raise a child safely so they grow with an inner sense of responsibility that leads them to trust in themselves. This is the basis for discipline. How do we teach our children to do the “right” thing and behave responsibly to themselves and others?

In watching my friends and the results of their parenting styles over the course of over 25+ years, I've seen a clear pattern. The children of parents who had strong and consistent guidelines when the child was young, then gradually let go of those boundaries and gave incremental and appropriate self-direction to the child did best.

These children grow up with a stronger sense of themselves. They aren’t as angry. They have more respect for themselves, others and the planet, do better in school, in relationships and at their jobs. My theory is that when kids are young, they need a framework within which to operate. The younger they are the more structure they want to feel safe because they're learning the boundaries of themselves as separate. Boundaries on the outside lead to learning to have them in place internally. The voice that suggests and sticks to a logical and reasonable course of action leads to the child internalizing that voice to the point where it becomes theirs.

We want our kids to have an internal compass, a place to refer to when they are in struggle, stress or unique situations that have no cut and dry answers but which require wisdom. So how do we help our children become all they can be? It starts with consistent, reasonable, loving structure. Never Waffle. No means no.

Believe me, I know for Moms it’s tremendously tiring to be on top of things all the time. But if you want your child to grow into someone who has their internal compass in place, you have to decide that when you say “no” you mean it. This means you have to be vigilant.

First you need to be vigilant with yourself. Make your no’s important, special. This means don’t have tons of them. Is it (whatever elicits the no) really important in this moment? Are you saying no because it’s in your kids interest or yours? Is what's going on life threatening? Will it harm or destroy something? Is it potentially dangerous, either physically, emotionally or spiritually? Is it practical (time to go now so don’t start a game?). Or is this something that just bugs you? Or are you just grumpy because you aren't taking care of yourself?

Thing is, better figure your reasons for saying no before you say it, because once you say it you have to enforce it. If you don’t, if you start saying no all over the place with no forethought and no intention of doing the work it may take to back that it up, you are setting yourself and your child up for huge problems. If no's are arbitrary, if they have no logic, how are kids to understand the bigger picture of how to act in the world? If they are constantly trying to figure out your rules, instead of the bigger rules that govern how to act in the world (which your smaller rules should be a reflection of), then how is it they will develop their own set of ethics?

To constantly have random no’s teaches a kid that they have to learn how to “play the game,” because the game is arbitrary. If your no's have reason, then the kid learns the underlying reasons that make boundaries important. Kids are smart.

When a child is very young (say 1-5), even if you discover that you've made a mistake, no still has to mean no and you have to follow through because at this very early age, you are trying to teach and this first thing to learn is consistancy/stability. Very young kids don’t need and cannot handle your lengthy explanations of the why’s and wherefores. I've watched kid after kid twitch when their parent tries to ‘reason’ with them. No means no. Pick them up, if needs be, remove them, distract them, give them something else to do. Then keep vigilant because they will often try to return to the activity.

If you ignore them and they get to do what you told them not to, then why would they listen the next time you say no? Each time you don't follow through, you teach them to be patient and wait you out and they will get their way. If you establish this pattern, put in your efforts and time early on, it’s money in the bank, so to speak for the future. Your kids will give you and themselves much less grief at age 8 if they learn at age 2 that you mean no. Just be sure it’s important. Make your no's worthy of being followed.

Informative Commercial Break...

Kids tend to get into more trouble less when they are busy. Get great ideas on how to occupy your children with educational kid games and toys. The internet is a great resource for fun activities and even homework and math help. Find great sites you and your kids will love.

4/17/2007 Quote For The Day

One of my favorite Teachers, Abraham, says of Parenting:

"You gave birth to them, now get out of their way!"

My All Time Favorite Midwife Story

I was a lay midwife for about 6 years, doing homebirths. In that time I got to help close to 200 babies come into the world.

Midwives love to sit around and tell Birthing stories. We tell them because they touch us, they teach us, the make us laugh or they are truly unique with no catagory to place them in.

This one of those "unique" ones....

Three of us were there as the midwife team: Karen, Ella and me. The Mom, Carol, was a best friend of Karen’s. Karen was also good friends with the father’s parents, who were there at the house for the birth.

Carol was progressing well and she and Don, her husband, were alone in thier bedroom. We midwives were going in there every once in awhile to quietly check on things and take the baby’s heart tones (the way you make sure the baby is OK). We had just done our thing, all was going well and the three of us went into the living room to sit to give the parents some privacy.

The living room couch was on an angle, with a chair at one end, and a desk area behind it. Karen, Ella and I were sitting on the couch. Don’s Mom was in the chair, knitting, and his dad was reading the paper at the desk. My back was turned from the Grandma and Pa as I was at the end of the couch closest to them.

As the Grandparents were busy with themselves passing time, the three of us began to talk. I'm not too sure how we got on the subject, but Ella had just attended a midwife training workshop about emergencies and was talking about meconium.

A bit of background: Babies have this stuff in their bowel called meconium. It is very black and tarry. If the baby, at any time in the pregnancy is stressed at all, they will take a bit of a dump and let some of it out. Depending on the amount of stress and when the stress occurs, the amount in the amniotic fluid can be lots or very little and still formed or dispersed. Meconium is not automatically life threatening. It is always a concern. It becomes more of a concern the thicker it is because the baby’s lungs cannot inflate properly when the baby starts to breathe as the stickiness sticks to the tiny little lung passages. Not good, very very bad situation.

Meconium is much more common than you would think and in the vast majority of cases, problems can be avoided if the attendant does the right thing: the attendant has to suck as much of the meconium out as possible BEFORE the baby takes its first breath and gets all that stuff down in the lungs. The attendant does this when the baby’s head is out, but before the body is out, when the lungs are being naturally squeezed in the vagina with all the fluid coming out anyway. This happens between pushing contractions. The attendant always does tons of preventative suctioning with meconium, you do NOT mess with it.

At home, back then, we used a device that was restricted (we had to rely on friendly docs to get these for us) called a De Lee Mucous trap. This was a nifty little thing that had a compartment that trapped the baby’s mucous and meconium. There were two tubes leading into the trap. You put one in your mouth to provide suction, the other tube was inserted into the baby’s mouth and down the throat as far as you could safely go. You then suck and all the meconium is caught and left in the tube/trap.

Back to the story: There we are, three midwives sitting on the couch, Grandparents quietly doing their thing. I think that part of our comfort was that the grandparents had asked a few questions and we had talked back and forth, plus they were as close as a second family to Karen. Whatever it was we kind of forgot they were there.

Emma: So at this workshop, these women were talking about how if they didn’t have a De Lee that they were just using a catheter.

Me: You mean that they just stick the cath in the baby’s mouth, suck and …um…where does the mec go? In our MOUTHS???!!!???

Emma: Yeah…in fact, one of them said she only uses caths now..she says she feels like it gives her more control.

Karen and I are silent. I am not excited about the idea of that AT ALL. Of course I would not hesitate one nanosecond if there was no De Lee and meconium presented. I would actually do just about anything if there is an emergency. But...I would also make damn sure there was a DeLee ready, one next to it and plenty more in my bag as backup.

Karen: Well..I can see it.

Emma: Well, yeah...I mean at the workshop we began a discussion about it and talked about how it really is not all that different from swallowing come after giving head.

More silence as we think.

Me: Hadn’t thought of that one…but really...I would think that it would be much worse than swallowing come.

Karen: Ummm…Doesn’t everyone swallow come????

And then we proceeded discuss our views on swallowing versus not…. and what we do…. and how we do it for a few more minutes until…soft cough.

OOPS!!!!

Look of combined shock on three midwive’s faces as they remember Grandparents-to-be are in the room, now laughing hysterically. All of sudden it was time to take heart tones, get Carol some tea and make sure (again) that all the equipment was ready for the birth, just in case.

__________________________________
Here is a beautiful pictoral diary of what a Homebirth looks and feels like all the way from going to a check up, early labor all the way through examining the placenta. It's beautiful and exactly what I experienced.

First item pictured is a Fetalscope. You put the ear pieces in your ear, the arched thing on your forehead, the other end on the mother's belly. You not only get the sound coming in your ears, but also from bone conduction through your forehead.

Backstory: Conflicting Spiritual Paths

I have always led a very spiritual life. At age 5 or 6, I felt called to be a Nun. I remember feeling transported in Church. By the age of 11, I began to question the Catholic church, but kept my deep Spiritual nature. By fourteen I was reading about Hitler and the Holocaust, the history of the Christian Church, and Eastern religions.

My strong interest in spirituality led me to studying it in college, both when right out of high school as a minor then after returning to college in later life to finish my degree. My BA is in Religious Studies. My journey has been long and circuitous, always following my inner knowing and experience. I've ended up with a personal spirtuality based primarily in Mysticism and the body.

My ex grew up in a Protestant household that did not have a strong connection to Spirit or religion. He had no interest there. When we got together at our very young ages of 20 and 21, here I was on this intensely spiritual Path and there he was, kind of...not. We got pregnant without planning. It hit him much harder than it did me. While neither one of us was ready for the responsibility of a child, he REALLY wasn't ready. About a year and a half after she was born, I started to be a midwife, he graduated from college and was faced with himself and the life he had created.

He had to find a job. I think he felt in the middle of a huge existential crisis. He was washing windows and doing janitorial work. one woman took a liking to him and gave him a "track." He read it. One night while driving from one job to another, he told me he had a vision. That vision told him to become a Christian. He felt "saved."

This was not good news for who I was at the time. I had been studying radical feminist thought and had felt drawn to the Earth Based traditions, one of which was Wicca, the Irish form of paganism generally referred to today as "Witchcraft." It's a Path that honors the Earth and sees everything infused with Spirit.

He saw me as "worshiping the Devil." I saw him as "The Patriarchy," the cause of everything evil on the planet: misogeny, raping of the Earth, environmental decay, immoral government built on greed, child pornography, war, politically based famine.

The two Paths did not mix well.

Two Guys Sitting On A Couch

Starla tells me a story about her husband and three year old son, Kailyb, doing their guy thing they do. They are sitting next to each other on a couch, both playing with their computers (Dad's a laptop, Kailyb's a toy).

Kailyb says "Hey, Dad..we are both sitting on the couch, both using our computers and we both have penises."

Yup. Reminds me of when his Mom was three. I had just finished teaching a Childbirth Class and a number of the couples were still there in our living room. She walked in, sat on the couch, lifted her skirt, spread her legs and proudly announced and pointed out to everyone there: "See, I have a clitoris!"

Hear Pachelbel's Canon in the background while we all float around in a field of happy flowers and a Cate-Blanchette-as-Galadriel voice says: Wouldn't it be nice if we kept that open, innocent way of being with our bodies and sex?

Parenting Experts

picture courtesy of Sue Mell

Have you ever noticed if you're in a group of people and the subject of parenting comes up, the ones with the strongest opinions about how kids should be raised, the ones that have all the answers, the ones who "know best" are the people who have never had kids?

My Love For You Is Big

Last night at dinner I got to sit next to my grandson, Kailyb. We talked about lots of stuff- his toys, what he wants to do at pre-school, life in the eye of a three year old. At one point I looked at him and told him I loved him sooooo much...that my love for him was bigger than the sky. He looked at me and said "yup, Mom, too."

So I looked at my daughter, Starla and smiled, asking if she said that to him. She smiled back and said, "Yes, many times." It was one of those moments that are so sweet as parent, the times where you get to look into the eyes of your grown child and re-discover the things that your kids took to heart and incorporated in themselves. Where you get to know that you did, indeed, do something right.

Because this is what I used to tell her. Many times.

Now that I'm on the other side of the teens, I understand even more how important it is for kids to grow up knowing that somewhere someone loves them unconditionally. I knew it was my primary job when they were little, and I've seen it reinforced hundreds of times over the years. We, as humans need this. The only way we get it so that it becomes a part of our deepest beings is for it to be learned when we are very young.

So when they were young, I made it a point to tell them over and over again that I loved them bigger than the sky. That when they were at school, when they were playing, no matter where they were that if they were feeling bad, to just look up at the sky and remember me and that I loved them bigger, WAY bigger than that.

I guess it worked.

Me, The Midwife

Beautiful Image Courtesy of Miracle Mountain Images

Today is Saturday and I got to hang out with my oldest daughter, Starla and her son Kailyb. K was born on my birthday in my bed at home with me as the primary midwife.

Starla was born in the hospital. As she was my first child and a gift (not planned), I knew very little, in fact nothing about being pregnant. She was born after five hours of intense labor with no complications. But I cried intensely after she was born and the days after. Something just felt "wrong" about the whole thing.

I was in my radical feminist days so decided to be an agent of change and become a midwife. I went to school to be a nurse, then in my second year met the local lay midwives. They worked together in a cooperative fashion and had a number of apprentices. As I was so committed to birthing and wanted to devote all my time to it, they asked me to come on full time. When I looked at the politics of the day, I realised that I would never be able to practice homebirth as a Nurse-Midwife as it was impossible to find a doctor for backup. If you do homebirths without that in place, you can get your license revoked, possibly be arrested. I decided that to continue that path would be a waste of time, so I took quit school and them up on their offer.

I got to attend tons of births, learned lots, and when they stopped practicing eventually practiced as a primary. I loved the births, loved being with families in this time of major transitions. I miss that.

It takes a very special sort of person to maintain that lifestyle of constantly being on call, and never fully sleeping through a night, never being assured of a holiday or that I would be able to attend my child's birthday party. I look at women who were practicing when I was and who are still, twenty five years later, catching babies. They've assisted thousands of babies and families and quite frankly, that always blows me away. I admire them.

I came into birthing angry at medical intervention of birth. It still upsets me, but I understand why they doctors intervene. It's because they want to make sure in the every way they know how to try to make it safe. And while I don't agree with their methods, I completely understand their intent. Birth, as life, is an unpredictable event. It never follows a text book, you can never know where it will go. While so much can be avoided by not intervening, that line of then to do so and when not to takes tremendous Trust. And when you are responsible for a life, two lives, Trust can be quite daunting. I understand them now.

After six years of practicing it came to me that if something was to happen to either a baby or the mother I would feel responsible, no matter what I had done "right." It got quite scary to realise that I was a minor player in a family's Karma. And that by placing myself there in the middle of it, I was putting my children and family in jeopardy. I burned out.

But it's ever so amazing and is such an honor to see babies I helped be born now taller than me and having babies of their own. Now that's cool.

Welcome!

I’ve raised three wonderful daughters, ten years as a single parent. The youngest still lives with me but will be gone soon; the oldest has a son. I cannot wait to be alone again, and yet, they are the most important people in my life and I love talking to them every day.

I’ve lived a bit of an unorthodox life and have some fairly different ideas about parenting.

Most of them come from the belief that I trust my kids and believe in their ability to direct their lives. I believe one of the most important jobs as a parent is to let our kids know that they are loved unconditionally. The other most important job is to let them go—to get out of the way of their natural ability to be healthy and whole and self-directed.

Much of what I have done has shocked some of my friends. Yet at the same time, many of them tell me they see me as one of the best parents they know.

Do my daughters and I have perfect relationships? Far from it. We have our problems, our tweaks, our occasional fights. I am no “expert.” But I do have my opinions and experience of many years as a personal growth teacher of sorts that have contributed to my ideas about what contributes to the making of healthy people. I invite comments, questions, and discussion. For it is through hearing parents different than us and finding other ways that we can discover what works for us and our families.

It's my intention for this blog to ultimately be of service to families with children from babies to teens. I hope you will join me and others in this journey.