Ready for the Ride?

You've waited in line for the roller coaster. It's supposed to be the most thrilling one this side of the Mississippi, but as you near the front of the line, your excitement turns into anxiety. You see the giant rise and fall, the corkscrew turns and you can hear the screams elicited from terrified passengers. You wonder if this is really such a great idea. Even though you know that no one has ever been injured on this ride, you can't help but fall prey to your primal instincts of self-preservation.

Often, we feel fear when trying new or risky things, whether its justified or not. I am currently feeling some anxiety over starting out as a doula. It's difficult for me to believe that I am ready for my first client. There is just so much to prepare before I embark, I couldn't just start cold like this! But after reviewing what others in my position have done, it is the only way to start. I have yet to get together all of the waivers and paperwork necessary for new clients. I was supposed to sit down and start typing these things out last night, but once I sat down on the couch (for the first time all day), I just about melted into it, and there was no hope for work beyond that moment.

Even though I feel anxious about whether or not I am ready to be a doula, I also feel unparalleled excitement about it too. To think that I could start helping birthing mothers, that I can make the difference between a positive and negative birth experience, its unreal. Ever since I had my son, three years ago, I dreamed of helping other mothers find their innate power the way that I had.

I am at the front of the line. The coaster cars are zooming closer, slowing down as they approach. I've waited to go on this ride for much longer than I stood in line for it. I've made my decision, that no matter what the outcome, the ride will be worth it. As I walk toward the carts, I can feel my stomach get shaky, I'm wondering if it is going to start a mutiny within my body. As I slide into the neon orange seats that leave my legs hanging, I start to release my fear, my anxiety and my distrust in myself. My stomach returns to normal as the bar gets pulled over my head and secured with a snap and a buckle.  I hold onto the little metal handles on my harness and smile as I feel the motors start to gear up. Three....two....one... and the coaster is hurdling down the track going faster than my car. The speed and acceleration leaves me feeling euphorically thrilled.

Start of the Quest

The first child I ever really held, let alone change, was my own. It is an interesting start to my quest. As I had never felt this powerful maternal love before. I had no inkling how fond I would become of tiny infants in general.

 A normal, low-risk pregnancy, induced at nine days past 40 weeks, for no reason other than "its hot, don't you want to get that baby out?". When I expressed concern about the high Cesarean Section rate of induced mothers, my doctor allayed my fears by telling me that they were pretty sure it wouldn't come to that, and that as long as I brought my birth plan, things should be alright. I went against my gut instincts, and got induced early the next morning. The initial check showed that I was at 3 cm, and I now know that they should have sent me home to labor naturally and come back when it was more active. Instead, they sold me on getting that baby out sooner.

Long story short, I got a C-section, for no good reason. I was disrespected and left feeling less than capable. Even the lactation consultants at the hospital treated me less than kindly "The baby isn't latching on correctly. You just aren't doing it right" but no one could tell me what I was doing incorrectly, and how to fix it. Worry not, dear reader, I was very set on breastfeeding and two weeks of bleeding nipples later, I figured it out, but not without many bouts of hormonal "I'm a terrible mother!" crying jags. 

My daughter, Estella, on her first day home

That birth left me feeling cheated out of a rite of womanhood. I knew we wanted another child, and when it was time, I was going to be ready. I found many more books preaching "natural childbirth", and quickly gave away my copy of "What to Expect", which I felt had very much let me down. I read everything I could find at my local library, I found some great online forums and I started getting excited about birth again. Before my daughter was one, we were pregnant with our second child. Overjoyed about it and ready for the challenge of natural childbirth, we set out to find the very best practitioners. We ended up with a midwife who agreed to take me on as a HBAC (Home Birth After Cesarean) client. We went this route because all of the hospitals in our area would give me an automatic C-section if I didn't go into labor by my 40th week, and I knew I would go past (although I hoped I wouldn't). 

My midwife was a wonderful, soft spoken, but strong woman. She was petite and perfect. She didn't boss me around like the OB I had before had, which was very important to me. I wanted to be the boss of this show. The labor was peaceful and did so much to restore my faith in myself and my body. My son was born with a perfect 10 APGAR score and nice long digits. I bled a lot while trying to deliver the placenta, as it took an inordinate amount of time to come out. The midwife gave me some herbs in a capsule and the placenta gave up and came out, relieving me greatly. I had zero problems nursing my son, so the midwife stayed for a few hours to make sure I was rested and settled in well, during which time she did my laundry and dishes.

My births aside, it was the research I did to prepare for my second birth, and the passion was borne out of my mistreatment during the first birth. Now that I have two children, I have been working toward finding my passion, my purpose, finding work that isn't work at all. I have considered helping birthing women for a few years now, but never really thought I could do it. But every year that passes that I don't do something about it, makes me sigh with regret. We all know that life is too fleeting to not do what we have a passion for. Too short to listen to modern ideas like "go where there's money", because the real modern idea I've been hearing is "Follow your bliss and you'll find money". If you love doing something enough, you will figure out the money part. Somehow.

Up Next: My Doula Class!