Demon and Savior

In my career as a birth doula, I have had the opportunity to encapsulate roughly 100 placentas.

It's a process I cherish and feel to my core. But, I decided that I should probably hire someone to encapsulate mine so that I would have one less stressor in the newborn haze. I sought out a sister doula and spoke with her about it but never got around to actually completing the contract. Something always distracted me, sleep, nesting, eating, reading, feeling like I still had plenty of time.

Like my second pregnancy, I had been having contractions at very regular intervals for several weeks but Friday, when I woke up feel like these were of a different variety, I told myself that I'd do it today.
But then Friday became Saturday and as we were driving to the hospital, I realized I still had not officially hired her.

Some how, I didn't find myself stressing about what could have been (which is rare since my head is always, always over thinking). I'm sure I could have called her Sunday morning and she would have come anyway. Instead, I birthed our baby girl and sent my placenta home with my mother to wait in her freezer for me to be ready.

As I opened the bucket tonight, I immediately felt the force of the anomaly of preparing my own placenta. I wondered if I would come to face my demon. See, this time HG (Hyperemesis Gravidarum) wasn't enough. I also developed a massive sub chorionic hemorrhage that because of it's size and location, had the potential to cause placenta abruption and early delivery. This giant blood clot became my demon, my battle to fight in defense of both myself and our unborn baby.

We had told the baby catcher we wanted to see the beast who's held me hostage the last 14 weeks. Sadly, he was unable to locate it at the time.

But there it sat. Right on top as I lifted my organ out of the bucket. I called my husband in to see it. We stood staring at it in my hand for a few moments together. He put his hand reassuringly on my back and grounded me in the way only he can. And then he left because BLOOD.

As I held my little demon in my hand, just half of it's original size, I was overcome by emotion. This little thing made our life hell. It scared us at 25 weeks and was nearly the cause of an emergency cesarean. It kept me in bed and made me unable to care for our Little Monsters for MONTHS. It is the cause of so many tears, feelings of inadequacy, and the stress of many who had to step in and take over my role.

How many of us can say we have literally held our demons in our hand? I got to curse at it and sob over it. I got to grieve for what could of been and then stare it down and declare my independence from it. It is no longer in control. I get to choose to let this moment heal me.

And then, I began to examine my placenta and begin my ritual. I am astounded at the size and density of it. Some how, despite the demon dwelling on it, it managed to remain healthy and strong and absolutely beautiful! Half me and half my husband, this is the savior of our beautiful baby girl we so gravely feared loosing for so long! It's strength is undeniable and stunning.

Part of my process is to pray over and thank the organ for it's work and the life it sustained. I try to infuse each one with love and strength for the woman who will use it's nutrients to restore her battle weary body (because pregnancy and birth are always a battle).
How am I, who sees so clearly all my flaws, faults, struggles, and damage, to speak  praise and love for the woman who grew this beautiful organ and baby? How am I to see good and beauty in my gestation when I've felt so broken in the process?

Self love has never been my strong suit but I stood over this savior and felt it's glow deep in my chest. It sustained and supported my sweet daughter who is fast asleep in our bed. It deserves to hear praise for that and for the work it has yet to do. It will help my body find its balance once more.

Tonight, I stand in awe of my demon, my baby's savior, and my body who grew both and gave me a most precious miracle.


**Disclaimer: Anonymous comments will not be published. I'd love to hear from YOU not "Anonymous" :)

Damaged

Labeling yourself as "damaged" or "broken" and allowing that define who you are is relatively easy. Once you've seen rock bottom, felt utterly alone, and believed yourself completely worthless, being broken seems like a vast improvement and a touch like a coping mechanism. Eventually, it's much more than comfortable... some where close to a security blanket. It's safe, warm, and seems honest. Self-identifying as "damaged" becomes the constant in the chaos, noise, and instability of life.

You can use it as an excuse for bad behavior. Because being "broken" and "damaged" makes it incredibly easy to be self-centered under the guise of self-preservation.

You can wear it like a badge that helps makes your walls darker, higher, and more imposing. It often wards off those who may consider getting to close.

Some are content to wear that badge for life.

Some begin to notice that they're not the only ones who've been through hell and lived to tell about it. And, maybe, just maybe, we could figure out how to have some semblance of security WITHOUT calling ourselves "broken."
But what does that really look like? I mean, REALLY look like?

I've seen happiness from a distance and experienced some glimmers of goodness here and there through my life but sometimes I'm not sure I know enough of joy to be able to identify it in myself. You know, without all the "broken" and "damaged" crap.

There's been times when I've been okay and some moments when I've been close to good but up to this point, I've never fully let go of believing that I am damaged. Irrevocably.

I've always believed that I was some how deserving of all the shit I've been through and earned all the bad that's happened to me, that maybe I never really had a chance at anything close to a good life. I wasn't so sure that I was deserving of good... that it was possible for anyone to actually love me instead of just feeling sorry for me. The loneliness and emptiness that comes with those beliefs make calling yourself damaged feel the stinging relief that comes when pressure is applied to a gushing wound.

But this week, I find myself realizing that I really didn't "deserve" any of it and I didn't DO anything to earn it either. I just experienced it. Maybe I'm not actually damaged. A little broken, yes. But breaks heal. Bruises fade.

When I was young, I used to believe in happily ever afters and that all my dreams really could come true but I gave all that up when I began to wear "damaged" like badge.
I'm finding picking those dreams back up a lot harder than putting that badge on was. Why is it that choosing light feels a lot like training for your first Ironman (not that I'd actually know what that's like...)?
Maybe our minds need endurance training much like our bodies do. If we look hard enough, we can see that even on our trek through hell, scattered moments of mercy or relief existed. We have the power to create them for ourselves and others if we train our minds. And maybe, eventually, we'll quit feeling off balance missing the badge we should have never worn in the first place.

I have come to a place where I have to choose to let all the broken-ness swallow me up or really and truly, for the first time ever, figure out how to let it all go.

**Disclaimer: Anonymous comments will not be published. I'd love to hear from YOU not "Anonymous" :)

Choosing Work

About 5 weeks ago, I began a journey into a higher level of peaceful, empathetic parenting. It's been an incredibly painful and difficult process but most of the best things are.

In the first few weeks, I was asked to come to terms with how I was parented and then to understand how it affects the way I parent and the things that elicit an emotional response from me.

I would venture to say that most of us would rather not dig into old wounds especially if they're still figuratively festering. Somethings are better left buried but in the case of emotional trauma, I think it's almost always beneficial to "do the work" and settle the past to let it go.

I could be considered an emotionally volatile person in that I have deep emotional responses when triggered. One of the hardest things I'm learning to do is understand when what I'm feeling isn't serving me. In those cases, I allow myself time to sit with the potentially irrational emotion and understand why I'm feeling it. Even "irrational" emotions deserve their day in the sun, to be heard and honored. Once I've sifted through things a bit, I do my best to turn the metaphorical burner off and allow it to simmer down and cool. I let it go.

Once I let it go, I move on to more situationally appropriate emotions that serve me, my kids, and whomever else I'm interacting with. I'm striving to live my life and feel my emotions more compassionately and empathetically.

I've learned something that is life changing for me: until this point, I've considered myself "broken" and "damaged." I tossed these words around in the description of myself for so long that it's started to feel like a safe place. But the reality is, I'm not actually either of those things. Those words describe a victim to whom things happen. I have come to the realization that depression is a state of being, like a pot of stew simmer on the stove. It doesn't require any action on it's own account. Someone else is doing all the work, adjusting the temperature and adding ingredients at will. Depression is an existence.

Emotion, on the other hand, require action. Sadness takes time to cope with, sometimes tears and sometimes the ear of an understanding and trusted friend. Sadness is a progressive emotion. Depression takes up residence.

This is not to say that depression is a choice for everyone. There are many people, myself included at times, who are truly overwhelmed and debilitated by depression that feels like outside force weighing down our breath. This is different from choosing to exist in a depressed state of being as I have allowed myself these last few months. It was easier to wallow in pain than to feel real emotion.

Regardless of whether our depression is inherent or a choice, WORK is always a choice. I choose to do work.

**Disclaimer: Anonymous comments will not be published. I'd love to hear from YOU not "Anonymous" :)

food stress

I'm a fluffy girl. Always have been, probably always will be. Currently, I'm right around 80lbs over weight... that's a medium sized child if you're keeping track.

I've never had a healthy relationship with food. I often eat my feelings, using food as a coping method for my stressors and depression. Even as a 27 year old, married for more than 8 years, woman, I still feel defensive about my eating habits around my parents and grandparents who are products of the depression-era "you must clean your plate; children are starving some where in the world" mentality.

I also feel pressures to "try" everything on the table even if I know it's not something I like. I can remember, as a child, being forced to eat my green beans and I REALLY hate green beans. There were times I ate them, very last, just so I could finally leave the table. I would head directly to the bathroom and stick my finger down my throat.

Fast forward to having children of my own. I find myself, like many, parenting to compensate for what I perceive to be my parents' missteps (whether real or imagined).
I spend a lot of time trying NOT to transfer food related anxiety to my monsters.

As we've been altering our lifestyle, and especially our eating habits, for the better, I again feel defensive of my choices. Is it really so hard to understand that we don't want our children ingesting countless chemicals, GMO's, and pesticides?? I don't think so, but some do.

I guess what it comes down to is, if I believe I'm doing the best for my family, does it really matter what anyone else think?

What things cause you stress and defensive behaviors??

**Disclaimer: Anonymous comments will not be published. I'd love to hear from YOU not "Anonymous" :)

Self discovery and the sauce.

The past few weeks, as I've been back to work, I've learned a lot about myself.

For the first time in my life, I'm realizing who **I** am. Me! Not me as wife, not mother, not cosmetologist or doula or lactation counselor. Just ME.

It's surprisingly interesting.

I'm more sarcastic and direct than I remembered and I laugh more than I have in a loooong time.

Through this process, I've realized just how much I eat my feelings. So my first goal is to get in front of that.

I'm planning to do a 21 day sugar detox in July but before I can do that, Momma's gotta go off the sauce. Diet Dew that is.

So I've got one Diet Dew left in the fridge and when it's gone, I'm all done. . .

I imagine I'm going to be kinda stabby over the next week. You've been warned.

xoxo,
Sara

**Disclaimer: Anonymous comments will not be published. I'd love to hear from YOU not "Anonymous" :)

gossip and goals

Last night, I had the pleasure of spending several hours with a dozen or two women who were complete strangers aside from one woman, who I absolutely adore, that was coordinating the event.

We were crafting.

It could have been so easy to not speak much with those around me or to judge and be critical of what they were wearing or making or any other number of things like what happens when a group of women get together any where. Be it work, social events, play groups, PTA meetings, Facebook mommy groups, or even church, women have a tendency to judge or talk smack.

It makes me sad.

Having been raised with only brothers who loved and protected me, I entered high school, and then corporate America, unprepared for these things. It was a rude awakening for my already damaged self image. Still, I managed to find a friend or two who loved me for who I was.

It only worsened when I left the traditional work force to go to cosmetology school. THAT is a whole different breed of gossipmongering. And, unsurprisingly, the scandals escalated when I worked at a dept. store make up counter as a make up artist and wax specialist. Throw a few Queens into the mix of women and things just may become over the top and outrageous. ;)

I was relieved when I changed jobs; even though it was still an establishment filled entirely of women, my coworkers and I managed to make real and lasting friendships that were not based on meaningless prattle and gossip.

I was raised not to be a pot stirrer and that if we have an issue with someone, it's best to address them directly. More now than ever, I strive to live by that. And so, it was so refreshing and wonderful to spend an evening with women who wanted to strike up friendly, judgement free, conversation with those who sat next to them. There was none of the typical cattiness that comes with a gathering of women, only compliments, laughter, crafts, and the camaraderie of extraordinary women.

I left the event with several new friends and a greater appreciation for the divine sisterhood of women. When we choose to leave the gossip and drama out, amazing and beautiful things happen. I have a profound love for the women I spent the evening with even though I've already forgotten many of their names. It IS possible to have a great time with strangers and make friends in unexpected places.

So that's my goal for the month of May:

           I will strive to judge and gossip less.   

          I will try to make a new friend whenever possible.

    
What are YOUR goals for May??

Food for thought

I've been reading The Heart of the Matter by Emily Giffin (who I love!) and was struck by the following passage:

"... all women compare lives. We are aware of whose husband works more, who helps more around the house, who makes more money, who is having more sex. We compare our children, taking note of who is sleeping through the night, eating their vegetables, minding their manners, getting into the right schools We know who keeps the best house, throws the best parties, cooks the best meals, has the best tennis game. We know who among us is the smartest, has the fewest lines around her eyes, has the  best figure--whether naturally or artificially. We are aware of who works full-time, who stays at home with the kids, who manages to do it all and make it look easy, who shops and lunches while the nanny does it all. We digest it all and then discuss with our friends. Comparing and then confiding; it is what women do.
"The difference, I think, lies in why we do it. Are we doing it to gauge our own life and reassure ourselves that we fall within the realm of normal? Or are we being competitive, relishing others' shortcomings so that we can win, if only by default?"

I have never really thought of myself as a gossip, in actuality I strive to NOT gossip. But, as a woman who has (like most) struggled with my self esteem over the years, I must admit that I do take note of many of the things listed above about women I meet.

So, I wonder why we do it. Are we (me in particular) so self conscious that we are truly constantly comparing ourselves to other women and other mothers hoping that we fall somewhere above the middle, ideally at the top? And if we are really comparing ourselves, what has happened to each of us over our life span that has removed our ability to just be who we are and love that girl, including all of our short comings, however big or small? Are we comparing so that we may pass judgement on someone else's decisions and lifestyle choices?

Its interesting that one of my "beach reads" can be suddenly so thought provoking. But, I'm going to make an effort to quit comparing myself to other mommies and just be satisfied with the job I'm doing, the very best I can each day.


**Disclaimer: Anonymous comments will not be published. I'd love to hear from YOU not "Anonymous" :)

be honest

I think honesty really is the best policy. Be honest with those around you and tell the truth (obviously tact is necessary).

Be confident in who you are and when you are asked a question, be HONEST. Have "Fierce Conversations" as an awesome lady I know puts it. 
It is ok to have confrontation conversations about real issues. Have fierce conversations with your husband, sister, mother, coworker, etc. When planning a fierce conversation, it is best to map out your thoughts in advance and get all the emotion out on paper. Then, ask the person you have conflict with to sit down with you for a chat. Be clear and concise, and use feeling words: "it hurts my feelings when you say..." or "I get frustrated when..." Then, give the other person time to formulate thoughts and respond. As difficult as it can be, try to maintain a level head, be respectful, and do not escalate to a screaming match.
Even when you're upset and frustrated, it is best when your frustrations are expressed respectfully and with love.

Next time your hubby asks you what's wrong, instead of saying "fine" while smoke comes out your ears, try "well, I'm Upset/frustrated/sad/hurt because...."

Trust me, I know how difficult this can all be. It's a lot easier to mutter profanities under your breath than tell the truth and get it out of your system but telling the truth and clearing the air is a lot less stress inducing. So, be honest and have fierce conversations.