A Birth In Guatemala

The Western Highlands

  A soft knock at the door, and midwife Anna Maria popped her head in.  She told me there was a birth downstairs, and I was welcome to come if I would like. Of course I would like! She then went on to say that the woman was nine centimeters dilated. My sense is that women here typically labor at home with their families until advanced labor.  I asked if this was her first baby.  Anna Maria answered no, her second.  But her first was a cesarean.

  A VBAC. How fitting that the first birth in Gautemala I observed would be a VBAC, after all the trouble I'd gone through for attending VBACs in California. I followed Anna Maria downstairs and entered the Sal de Parto, a spare room with a big,comfortable bed, a shelf of supplies and a chair for the woman's mother. The father of the baby, the woman's sisters, and her own father sat in a waiting room.

  I could tell that birth with Mayan midwives is low-fuss.  The laboring mother, at nine centers, rested silently in the bed. She smiled and politely greeted me when I entered and introduced myself.  The two midwives did not change into scrubs, but wore their "street" clothes - gorgeous hand embroidered colorful blouses and skirts. Just before the baby's arrival, Anna Maria tied a robe over her clothes to protect them. During the contractions, the woman quietly endured them, between them, she chatted with her mother. The energy reminded me of births I attended while a student at North Central Bronx Hospital, for Central and South American woman.  It is fascinating to me that the response to the sensations of labor truly is a cultural thing.  The only hint she gave that she was enduring pain, was that she asked "How much longer?"

   The midwives asked if I wanted to deliver the baby and I declined.  I was here to observe, support, and learn about their methods, not "take over".  I said would just help them, however they needed me to.

 Soon, the mother was pushing, and we could see baby's hair with the pushes. Every one was calm, quiet, and relaxed. The laboring mom kept smiling at me, for some reason she was happy I was there, murmuring in my goofy Spanish that she was doing well, just relax between the contractions, until the next one.  I noted that the unmistakable scent of human childbirth is the same, no matter where in the world you are.

  With one more contraction, the baby crowned and then came entirely out.  My first thought was, he is premature! The baby was tiny, as in 4 and a half pounds. TEENSY. He looked 34-36 weeks to me, not quite full term. He was pink, but floppy, and made no effort to breathe.  I handed  Anna Maria a towel and she dried him, and stimulated him.  He opened his eyes and stared up at us, but still did not breathe.  I handed Anna Maria the bulb syringe and she suctioned him well.  Imelda vigorously massaged his chest and I felt the base of the umbilical cord to determine the heart rate, which was normal and strong.  "Come on baby!" we cooed in our various languages, Mam, Spanish, English.  Also, we stayed calm and no one rushed or panicked.  After maybe three or four minutes, I could see that his tone was not improving, and I offered to give the baby repsirations.  The two midwives stepped aside, I tilted the baby's head and breathed into his open mouth, inflating the alveoli and initiating respirations.  I could feel his minscule lungs expanding with each breath I gave, and was very careful to keep them small, and not injure them.  After four breaths, his tone improved and he grimaced. Anna Maria cut an onion in half and placed it beside his nose. I gave a few more breaths, and then his engine began to purr  He cried, he breathed, he snuffled and snorted.  I worried, watching his skinny chest heave and ho, that he may continue to have trouble breathing, as I have seen in early babies.  But not this little guy.  He adjusted, and was fine.

  The room was cool, so after a few minutes of skin to skin with mom, the midwives dressed him.  I mean DRESSED him.  Three shirts, two pants, two hats, socks, two blankets.  The guy was so wrapped in soft knits and woolens, one had to peer down through the layers to find him in there.  I kept a close eye on him, still concerned about his size, his breathing.  But the midwives were less concerned.  They placed him in his mothers arms, and went to see another woman, who had arrived for a prenatal consultation.  I stuck around, and helped the mother to breastfeed.  i suggested that she feed him every two hours to bring her milk in quickly and get him growing.  We also talked about other methods for increasing milk supply, and Imelda told me they have herbs for that to give her. Imelda told me he was 37 weeks by dates, not premature, just small.  Most babies born at ACAM are six pounds or so.

  The baby nursed on and off for an hour, and the mother prepared to go home with her family in another hour or so. I brought them water to drink and peeked at the baby one more time.  He was warm, with rosy cheeks, red lips, and busily suckled.  I told the mother and grandmother, in my funny Spanish, that he was small, but mighty, like Napoleon.  They laughed at that, the woman took my arm and thanked me, and I went back upstairs.

Imelda, midwife and up-and-coming
 leader in her community

The Further Adventures of Chico's Embattled Midwife

This not-working,

this not-feeling like mopping again

this cleaning out dusty corners,

is BORING.

I sit and stare at my phone,

willing an arm to just

reach out of it and pull me

into the next chapter.

I scribbled this not-poem into my journal exactly two weeks ago, on the girls' first days of school. I have always worked to provide for my family, to serve and better the world, to make my days meaningful. Yet, since the probation of my nursing license began in February of 2016, I have not worked a day. The Board of Nursing denied my home birth practice as a work site for my probation, (without being able to provide me with a single reason why, I might add). Nonetheless, with that work site denial, they shut Sacred Ways Midwifery down.

I used the first four months of my probation to dive into a creative project that had taken on a life of its own. In late June, I completed my manuscript, a midwifery witch-hunt and travel memoir titled Relax,Nothing is Under Control; A Family Pilgrimage to India. I was grateful for the space the BRN's shenanigans had made during those weeks when I lived, breathed, and dreamed my book. Now my manuscript is being shopped to literary agents, a process that mostly involves – molasses. I mean, waiting.

While the languid summer heat stretched its arms across our Sacramento Valley, reality settled itself like a blanket over my summer plans. Sure, go camping, go to festivals, have fun with your family, but also, it is time to find a job. Two reasons: 1. I cannot finish my probation and clear my license if I do not work for six months as an RN. And, 2. there is the eensy teensy matter of living off of our dwindling savings for the past months because my husband earns about half of what we need for our monthly budget. Yikes.

So between family trips, I went in search of RN jobs, figuring I could land a position in OB, family planning and reproductive services,or home health. All of which I am extremely qualified for and experienced in. For the first twelve of these jobs, I was turned down , due to my license being on probation. Ouch. Big Ouch. Each interview involved walking in wearing organic lip gloss and my grown-up clothes, carrying my fat Board of Nursing probation folder to explain with an outer smile and an inner wince that I am a wonderful Yale trained nurse with twenty years of experience who just happens to be on probation but you really should consider hiring me anyway. And each time the sinking feeling I got as I was smiled at and told “You are amazing and over-qualified but No Way” was like swallowing a stone.

While camping up at Juniper Lake, at music festivals in Oregon, and on Mt Shasta, I lay in my sleeping bag while Adam and the girls snoozed around me and grappled with these things: I may end up surrendering my RN license because no one will hire me! I may have to move away from Chico to work, or commute three hours to the bay area, or look for RN work in prisons, or go back to school to learn an entirely new profession, or, or or.

My friend Kelly came over one evening and looked at my home office, with my wall of beaming, baby-holding mom photos. “You need to take this bulletin board down. And put up something else. Something representing your present, not your past,” Kelly said. So we took down the pictures and cleared out my closet of birth supplies. The following morning I made a new bulletin board display; a few of my favorite birth photos, along with pictures from India and Nepal, pictures of my family, of my ancestors, of Burning Man. It felt well-rounded, beautiful, and more representative of ME.

Tranforming my office seemed to work a bit of magic. On the thirteenth job interview, I was hired for an RN position in a local convalescent home. But I still cannot work a day until the Board of Nursing approves the work site for me. Which could take....? A month? Two? And will this new employer be patient enough to wait for that, really? It seems so, although I am done counting chickens when it comes to RN biz.

Ten days ago I received an email with a job offer that combines my three loves: Midwifery, travel, and teaching. While the pay is minimal, the position is very part-time, so I can also work that RN job my license depends on. I have been hired as the Global Service Learning practicum instructor for the Birth Institute, and I leave for a month in Guatemala next week, taking four students to learn from Mayan midwives at ACAM, a Mayan-run birthing center in the Western Highlands:

 Check out this incredible organization for the preservation of Mayan Midwifery  here!

Suddenly I have a calling besides a sink full of dishes, a purpose besides shopping for kids' school supplies, career moves that are beyond scrolling for RN jobs I know I will be turned down for. It feels that there are building blocks for my future in global maternal/child health being set. I feel inspired, fired up, happy to be using my skills and talents instead of watching them lie fallow and whither away. I am grateful for this opportunity provided by the dynamic team at the Birth Institute and will keep the community posted of my experiences among the Mayan midwives of Guatemala.

Abrazos!

Dena

Peace; the True Intent of Mother's Day

In the 1870s, a group of women created Mother's Day with the following proclamation:

Happy Mother's Peace Day
Arise, all women who have hearts, whether your baptism be that of water or of tears! Say firmly: “We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies, our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.

“Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We women of one country will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.”

From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own. It says, “Disarm, disarm! The sword is not the balance of justice.” Blood does not wipe out dishonor nor violence indicate possession.

As men have often forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them then solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each learning after his own time, the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God.

In the name of womanhood and of humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women without limit of nationality may be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.

 Amazing, isn't it, that these words are as relevant today as they were 140 years ago?   So what can we do, ladies?  How can we stop the wars?

with love,

Dena

What is Haibun?

  

   Today I attended Wordspring, a writer's conference at Butte College.  I took a workshop on cross-genre writing from author Gabrielle Myers, where we looked at the intersection of poetry and prose.  17th century Japanese poet Basho combined prose with Haiku, and called it Haibun. The form includes segment of prose followed by a 17-syllable poem, which is Haiku.  It often was used to describe travel scenes and experiences.  We each gave it a whirl.  Here is mine, a travel scene from my life, that happens daily at 8am.


       Reminders start a half hour before. "Fifteen minutes!" I lie. She is coiled, cobra-like, all seventy-two pounds of her crouched at her mirror, liquid liner in her hand. I yell to be heard over  the squeak of a Youtube make-up tutorial. Fifteen minutes later I call five minutes, then "Now!"  I pass her lunch, gather homework, fill water bottle, find socks.  Now, now, now, I beg. Combat boots are zipped.

      We emerge into the morning. "Forgot something!" she sings, dashes in again. My frazzle meter rises. Too many minutes later, she climbs into the car next to me. Belts click, door closes, we are off, late again.

  Annoyed, mad with love

I glance sideways at this girl.

Who will she become?

         Tee Hee.  After writing so much about our India adventures, it feels fresh to write about something, well, ordinary and close to home.

Haibun is easy and fun... try it!  Tip: most haiku are three lines:  Five syllable-seven-syllable-five syllable.  Feel free to post yours in the comments below.   

Sacred Ways Midwifery is Currently Closed

    While International Womens' Day dawns clear and pink-tinged, I announce with a deep sigh, that by decree of the California Board of Nursing, Sacred Ways Midwifery is closed. Please do not call inquiring about home birth services.


     I have served the mothers and babies of the Chico area for twelve wonderful years. I have had 100% healthy babies born under my care, and many families I have served have become like my own family.  It has been a gorgeous, love-filled, and profoundly meaningful way to make a living.  I have been honored to serve you.

   My nursing license has been placed on probation for the next three years, as a disciplinary action for charges related to two VBAC women I cared for in 2009. There was no lawsuit - but some local doctors wrote a letter of complaint to the Board of Nursing , and this is the result.  The conditions of my probation make it impossible to continue my work as an autonomous home birth midwife.  

   In witnessing hundreds of births, I have learned that one hallmark of women is Resilience, and I get to discover what next amazing work I am meant to do. In the meantime, you will see me at Wal-Mart, where I will be your cashier! (Just kidding!)

  There is still home birth available in Chico, just not with nurse-midwives.  There are two licensed midwives, Paula Emigh LM and Katarra Shaw LM who are working in the area.  It is within their regulations to attend VBACs, by the way.
Good luck, and blessings,

Dena

Midwife Sisters

    
      "A midwife must have a deep love for other women.  She knows that all women, including herself, are sometimes as elemental as the weather and the tides, and that they need each other’s help and understanding.  The true sisterhood of all women is not an abstract idea to her.”
                                                                                -Ina May Gaskin,
                                                                                Spiritual Midwifery, 3rd addition


             :The true sisterhood of all women" is a concept that resonated deeply with me when I first read Spiritual Midwifery, twenty four years ago.  I was single and living in NYC, far from my California home.  My sisters/girlfriends were my family.   And they still are.  Over my twenty years involved in midwifery, I have seen that sisterhood is indeed a core value of the profession.  This sisterhood is one essential piece that I love about being a midwife.  Midwives train each other, help each other, advise each other, and just plain love on each other.  Because there are just some things that only a sister midwife can understand.   There is an unspoken code among midwives, that if a sister midwife asks for help, you must do your best to help her. We treat each other the same way we treat our mothers and babies;  with respect and integrity.

    I just want to take a moment to tell about midwives who have been instrumental  along my journey.  The story of my career is interwoven with powerful midwife sisters.  When I was a student midwife at Yale School of Nursing, I trained in a midwife-run labor unit at North Central Bronx Hospital.  My preceptor, Lynn Chapman Stern CNM, was a feisty, snarky, tall blonde who had previously travelled the world by motorcycle.  Lynn made working twelve hour night shifts where I would deliver up to four babies a shift, fun.  Her clear words of advice for gently delivering the head, shoulders, body of each baby, whispered in my head for years after our time together.

        When I wanted to study home birth, Rondi Anderson CNM let me come catch all the Amish babies in her rural Pennsylvania practice for a summer.  She attended nine Amish home births a month, so in a summer I got to catch 25 babies.  She arranged for me to live on a farm with an Amish family. Hippie artsy Yale student living with kind, simple Amish family - I treasure the memories.  I would drive through the cornfields to get to births, passing folks on horse-and-buggy, with Beastie Boys blasting on my car stereo.  And of course, being a part of twenty five peaceful, uncomplicated Amish births planted the seed of Trusting Birth indelibly into my being. 

   When my family moved to Chico twelve years ago, I met the only home birth midwife working here at the time - Diane Lawrence.  Paula Emigh,  the midwife of Birthdance Midwifery, was her apprentice.  Diane welcomed me to the community with open arms.  She showed me her office and even gave me the complete inventory of her supply closet so I would know what to order for mine.  My friend Cynthia Banks CNM sent me all the paperwork from her home birth practice in San Franscisco, to model mine after.  Paula and I both began attending home births on our own here around the same time.There has never been a sense of competition between us, but there has always been backup and support.  The one time in ten years that two of my clients gave birth at once, Paula came and saved the day.

     A couple years into my practice, a young student midwife landed on my doorstep with tears in her eyes.  Jessica Mairs LM had relocated her family to Grass Valley for an apprenticeship that  immediately fell through.  Although I was unsure that I was ready, I became a preceptor for her school and trained her for the next two years.  Now she has a thriving practice in Grass Valley, Sierra Homebirth.  When I hear about Jessica, the awesome midwife, I can't help but feel a little rush of pride.  A couple years ago Katarra Shaw LM joined the Chico scene with a third home birth practice.  She and I have shown up to assist at births for each other when needed.  And here we all are together, celebrating a wedding last year. 

The Midwives of Chico - aren't we something...?

   Paula, Katarra, and I have been working together with the Chico Birth Network. Our mission has been to create better communication and collaboration with Enloe Hospital.  We have made great strides in the last two years of meetings, building bridges to benefit the families of Chico when transfer of care from home to hospital is needed.  We also meet every couple months along with our assistants and students, to peer review complicated and unusual cases.  We tell the stories, listen, learn, and advise each other.  And  feast on the most deluxe potluck brunches ever. 
    
Finally ,Yelena Kolodgi CNM and Kavita Noble CNM , Bay Area home birth midwives have given me hours of support and invaluable advice as I have nagivated my bureaucratic proceedings with the Board of Nursing. The above link directs you to Stand By Your Midwives for more info on legal issues faced by California home birth CNMs.  My beloved friend from nursing school Sarah Shealy CNM flew up from LA for the day on her birthday to attend a Nursing Board meeting and speak up for home birth CNMs.    

These wonderful women, along with my assistants over the years, Serra Wells and Amber Eandi, show me again and again, that this term "sistering" that is buzzing around the web is no joke.  I will even take it further.  Here's what i think:   Women are the weavers of the cosmic web that actually holds the world together. 

Here's to you, ladies.

   

Happy Holidays !

   December has been a beautiful month for home births.   I love my job because I am always meeting new friends. 
Here are my two latest new buddies:

     Babies born in the Christmas season remind me that we are all precious, we are all miracles, we are all Children of God, if you will.   Every birth reminds me of the holiness of each human life.  May we all work together to bring Peace to ALL children around the world, and bring HEALING to our planet, the Mother of us all!

Okay, and on a lighter note, check out these Holiday Cookies for the Midwife who has Everything, baked by new Mom Ninette Daniele, whose son is in my arms in the above picture:

See you in 2016!

warmly,    Dena

September 2015 Update

Dear Friends,

     Thank you for your support while I have navigated a complicated legal situation between myself and the California Board of Nursing. In helping me, you help the cause of womens rights during pregnancy and birth, and keep access to health care options for the families of Chico California.

     There is still not a “final outcome” to this journey, but I do have some updates I would like to share. First of all, the donations I received from the Chico benefit concert in May and the Gofundme website have covered my legal expenses and the fines I am to pay the Board of Nursing. My family and I are deeply grateful for the relief of such a stressful financial burden.


  But beyond that, this outpouring of support has  rejuvenated my strength and my spirit.  Over the summer I spent a few weeks camping with my family.  I had quiet hours to sit by a rushing creek under green old growth trees in Oregon.  I finally had time to take in what a tremendous showing the Chico community made, when I reached out for help.

   I thought about the benefit concert - the hundreds of people who came out and donated and celebrated with me.  I thought of the 126 people who made online donations to my cause.  126!   I remembered the sight of our crew of mamas, babies either strapped on or else still inside round swelling bellies, working all day to put on a party full of flowers , art, music, food, drinks, and silent auction.   I know it was not for me, in an ego or personal sort of way.  It was for me because of I am Chico's home birth nurse-midwife.  It was a showing of love for myself and also for  the families I have cared for over the last ten years. 

    Your response to my call for help has re-inspired me.  I see how important my services are to the people in my community, and how much Chico values home birth midwifery.  I won't give up!  I will to continue to stand up for the rights of women and babies to have safe, gentle home birth experiences.    I thought I would close my business this fall, because I was feeling exhausted and defeated.  But thanks to all of you, I have changed my mind, and am still helping families.  Just last night, with the bright Super Moon shining on us through the sliding glass door, I welcomed a beautiful baby boy into the world.

    Statewide, there are  positive steps being taken improve the situation for nurse-midwives in home birth practice.    AB 1306 has been tabled for the year, but it unanimously passed the State Assembly, and will be on the ballot again in 2016. 

   In the Superior Court of California, a judge ruled that the Board of Nursing must allow nurse-midwife Yelena Kolodgi to continue her home birth practice while on nursing license probation. This took a year-long battle to get her back to work after her probation began, but hopefully sets a precedent for other midwives (such as myself) placed on probation.

Thank you for standing with me, and with Chico California mothers and babies.

Warmly,


Dena Moes RN MSN CNM

Clouds and Sliver Linings

Dear friends and supporters,

    First, the Cloud.
     Some of you may already know, and for some this may be new information.   This summer I face a legal proceeding between myself and the California Board of Nursing, in regards to a complaint made by a few local Ob/Gyn doctors back in 2010. 



The Silver Linings:
 1.   The California Nurse-Midwife Association has sponsored a bill that may be passed THIS YEAR to remove the physician supervision requirement for certified nurse-midwives in all settings;  home, birth center, and hospital.   The bill will fix  outdated regulations concerning nurse-midwives in California that will enable myself and others to provide our expert services without these legal barriers.

PLEASE SUPPORT AB 1306!   Go to www.MidwivesPASS1306.com to learn more and get involved.

Yesterday I spent the day lobbying for the passage of this bill in Sacramento.  I was touched to hear that my own personal case has served to inspire the timely authoring of this legislation, that will improve access to midwives for women all across the state.  A silver lining, for sure.  

2.  The beautiful babies keep on coming.    Here is one of the five beauties I was honored to welcome into the world last month!  This is Opal: 

3.  The support I am receiving from all directions has been profound and beautiful.  My home birth families, sister midwives, local filmmaker Skyler Andrew, and Elena Tonetti and her organization Birth into Being, with its nonprofit Sentient Circle, for starters.  Please visit my gofundme site here



With love and blessings,

Dena

   

A Tale of Two Cords

Dear Readers,

       Over the years I have been very careful to avoid criticism of our local hospitals in my words, and in my blog.  I am grateful to have safe hospitals nearby for those times when we need them.   My intention with this post is to bring to light an issue that is important , and needs to change.  Remaining silent in order to avoid sounding critical does not actually serve mothers and babies.  
     This post is  about  the baby's umbilical cord;   when and why it is clamped and cut, and the implications of that choice for the baby.  I will briefly discuss how my own management of the cord has evolved over the years, give some links to latest research, and then illustrate some important points with a story.
     I was trained in 1995 in a busy public hospital in the Bronx.  My preceptor taught me to always check for a cord around the neck once the head was born, and then "reduce" it,  meaning pull it over the baby's head, or clamp and cut it if it was so tight that I could not.  If option B happened, then we had to hurry to deliver the rest of the baby quickly as the baby's oxygen had just been cut off.  The cord, mind you, is what delivers oxygenated blood to the baby from the placenta in utero, during the birth, and if the cord is left alone, for several minutes postpartum.  During my studies I also learned about the myriad benefits of delayed cord clamping for the baby.  For a detailed explanation of those, please read this . Then I learned that in the hospital, when a baby is born compromised, and not able to start breathing on her own, the cord is cut right away so the baby can be rushed across the room to be resuscitated on the warming bed.
       When I began attending births at home many years later, I quickly realized that home born babies have this brilliant advantage:  If the baby is born compromised and not breathing, the cord is left intact, delivering oxygen to the baby just as it did in utero. The midwives resuscitate the baby right there beside the mother.  The first time I did this, I was amazed at the difference that I saw.  In the hospital, distressed babies are blue or grey in color as they lie on the warming bed, their lifelines severed so that the nurses can work on the other side of the room.  At home, our little non-breathing baby was pink instead of blue, getting her oxygen from both the cord and our ambu-bag until she perked up and could start breathing on her own. 
     Around that time, an article was  published in the ACNM  Journal, questioning the act of even checking for a cord around the neck in the first place.  The  study interviewed midwives in the U.S. and midwives in  New Zealand, comparing  various practices.  Lo and behold, New Zealand midwives don't ever check for a cord, and U.S. midwives always do.  And guess which babies do better?  Neither;  the outcomes are the same.  
       My third year of homebirth practice, I attended a waterbirth for a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After a Cesarean) mama. The head was born in the water, I reached in and checked for the cord, and sure enough there was a very tight cord around the neck.   I realized that  I couldn't possibly clamp and cut it with her in the birthing tub like that, so I just let it be.  That baby was fine.  Better than fine.  He was born, I unwrapped the cord from around his neck, lifted him out of the water and gave his back a little rub, and placed him in his mama's arms, pink and perfect.  I have never cut a tight cord since. It was an "A-ha!" moment.  You don't have to cut a tight cord.  Soon after, I studied detailed intructions on  "The Sumersault Maneuver"  by which the baby's  body can be  sumersaulted past the head to accomodate a tight cord during birth. .  Over the years I have attended births with the cord wrapped once, twice, even four times around the neck, without it ever being a problem for the baby.   And I am always grateful for that lifeline if the baby needs extra help breathing. 
    There has been a lot of research lately to confirm what homebirth midwives already know; babies that need resuscitation do better if the cord is intact.  Read about this promising study of preemies here.  Read about this beneficial practice in the developing world here   Also, there are efforts to develop technologies (like a lightweight board that can be placed beside the mother Wow wow. We use a plastic cutting board at home.)  so that our State of the Art, first-world hospitals can cease cutting cords to rush babies across the room. Read about a pilot program for that here.

Let me quote from these articles :
"When babies aren’t breathing at birth, doctors typically have to cut their umbilical cords and whisk them away from their mothers in an urgent attempt to resuscitate them. The intervention saves lives, but it’s a trade-off. These babies lose nutrient-rich cord blood that can help prevent brain damage and other complications."

“There is no expense and no equipment needed. All the attendant has to do is pause, let the baby breathe and then clamp the cord,”

   I was inspired to write this post by a beautiful birth I attended this week.  Here is the Story, as promised.  Thank you Mary for allowing me to share this.

A Tale of Two Cords.

     For Mary's first birth three years ago, her plan for a home birth changed when she went post dates and we discovered low fluid levels around the baby.  We went in for an induction to her local hospital, and with a little medication she went into labor.  Mary did a tremendous job laboring all night in the shower and on her birth ball.  My assistant and I served as her doula.  In the morning she was close to delivery.  She pushed for a few hours, and fortunately the baby's heart rate sounded terrific the whole time, showing the staff that he was tolerating the labor well.  We got very close to birthing time.  The doctor came in.  The baby's head was born, and there was a cord around the neck.  The doctor clamped and cut it.  Then, everything stopped for a few minutes.  Contractions, pushing, everything.  I felt this terrible sinking feeling when the doctor cut that cord, but now nothing could be done but wait.  Several minutes went by, baby half out, oxygen cut off.   Finally the baby came, grey and limp and in poor shape.  He was rushed off to the NICU .  $64,000 and five days of pokes, pricks, IV's and oxygen masks later, the baby was discharged home, healthy.  Mary said the nurses kept reminding her how wonderful it was, that they saved her baby.  I never said a word to her about that cord, but she knew that that was why her baby had gotten so sick.  "They saved my baby from a mistake the doctor had made, and expected me to be grateful for it.  And I was, but it was really hard." 
    This week, Mary had her second baby, at home, under my care.  She went into labor just after her due date, and her labor progressed quickly.  Her water broke as she approached the final stage of birth, and once again she had scant fluid with meconium.  There wasn't time to transport for this, so we readied ourselves to help the baby at home.  Mary gave birth on soft towels on the bedroom floor.  The head was born, and the little one spit out a mouthful of meconium (which landed on my nose but you didn't need to know that).  I reached a finger in to check the shoulders and felt a tight cord around the neck.  I withdrew my finger and let it be.  Just like last time, it took a little while for the baby's body to come.  Mary got up to a kneeling lunge, and the body slowly emerged.  The baby sumersaulted himself , I unwrapped the cord, and then just watched.  The baby looked around, waved his little fingers about, and then opened his mouth a took a deep breath.  His color went from purple to cotton candy pink.  The cord pulsed away.  This all happened in that silent, timeless moment we call the first minute after birth.  It was my first home birth since my year off in India and I felt honored to witness the perfect design, the perfect physiology, that is the miracle of birth. 
   
    
   Folks, don't all our babies here in Butte County deserve this beneficial care, not just the ones born at home?  I think so.  I know so.  Perhaps we can begin bringing awareness to our medical community that it is time to update their practices.  Let's not just stand by shaking our heads.  Some ideas: 

1.  write a letter to the nurse-manager of your local hospital, including copies of these articles I have linked to.
2.  Bring copies of these referenced articles to your next visit with your OB or hospital midwife, and ask to discuss these issues with them.
3. Join the Chico Birth Network, to promote safe and gentle birth;  contact me for info.  I welcome your ideas and input.  

A Poem for Mothers

THE BEGINNING

“Where have I come from, where did you pick me up?” the baby asked
its mother.
She answered, half crying, half laughing, and clasping the
baby to her breast-
“You were hidden in my heart as its desire, my darling.
You were in the dolls of my childhood’s games; and when with
clay I made the image of my god every morning, I made the unmade
you then.
You were enshrined with our household deity, in his worship
I worshipped you.
In all my hopes and my loves, in my life, in the life of my
mother you have lived.
In the lap of the deathless Spirit who rules our home you have
been nursed for ages.
When in girlhood my heart was opening its petals, you hovered
as a fragrance about it.
Your tender softness bloomed in my youthful limbs, like a glow
in the sky before the sunrise.
Heaven’s first darling, twain-born with the morning light, you
have floated down the stream of the world’s life, and at last you
have stranded on my heart.
As I gaze on your face, mystery overwhelms me; you who belong
to all have become mine.
For fear of losing you I hold you tight to my breast. What
magic has snared the world’s treasure in these slender arms of
mine?”

Rabindranath Tagore(India (and Bengal)'s first Nobel laureate)

Special Announcement: I am back in Chico!

Dear Clients and Readers,

  We have returned from our voyage to India and beyond, and I am now available for midwifery services.  Feel free to call me at 530-828-9435 for information.

Thank you,

Dena

In a Mother's Words; A Home VBAC Story

 Here is a guest post by Chico mother Michelle Burdette

In Praise of Midwives: A joyful HBAC experience

Avery Marie Burdette was born on November 16^th in the comfort of her own home. Her father lovingly supported me through labor and was able to see his daughter’s first breath. Dena Moes and her assistant Amber guided me along the journey and delivered Avery on their knees on my bedroom floor. I feel so blessed to have had this experience and were it not for Dena and the option of home birth, I would have had to undergo a repeat cesarean section.

I distinctly remember sitting in the doctor’s office after viewing my first ultrasound and discussing my birthing options. The doctor stated that I could not have a VBAC in the hospital due to regulations. He then stated that there was one OB/GYN in town that would sometimes “let” his patients labor until it was too late for a C-section, but he would generally end up doing a C-section in most cases.

I did not like any of these options! I felt trapped, like I had no choice but to go ahead with a scheduled C-section. I saw this doctor a few more times and was very depressed about the actual birth my child was going to have. You see, I did not get to experience my first daughter’s birth at all. I had an emergency C-section for footling breech presentation. I did not get to see her until an hour after her birth. Her father was able to hold her soon after she was born, but it pains me to know that no one familiar to her was there when she was born. I wanted this birth to be different, and now I was being told that due to a policy, I could not have the birth I wanted.

During a family get-together, I was discussing this situation with my cousin’s wife. She told me that they were planning on having a home birth and gave me reading material. I told her that I did not think home birthing was for me, but thanked her for the information. One of the articles she gave me was written by Dena Moes, CNM. The article was all about VBAC’s at home and I was inspired by the strength of her experience and her conviction. I was overjoyed to learn that she was a midwife in Chico and that there was another way for me to give birth.

I read everything I could get my hands on and discovered so much information that I wish I had known before giving birth to my first child. Who knew that Pitocin could be so problematic? I had no idea that I could have any say in my birth outside a “birth plan”. My husband and I met with Dena and were given the great news that I would be a good candidate for a home birth after C-section (HBAC). We were very nervous because this was outside the norm of what all of our friends and relatives had chosen. My family was nervous about birthing at home and worried that something catastrophic might occur. My husband and I looked at all of the statistics and were far more worried about birthing in a hospital setting. When we told people that we had decided to have our baby at home, people said things like: “you are so brave”, and “Aren’t you worried?”. Only a few people voiced their support.

We met with Dena throughout our pregnancy and with each meeting felt so blessed to be getting a home experience. We would meet in Dena’s office and there was a flannel sheet on a comfy table with a real pillow! There were no metal stirrups for your feet, no hospital gowns and no one pushed me to get testing done due to my advanced age of 37. I felt comfortable and like pregnancy and birth were natural, not fraught with peril. It was a gentle and holistic experience. We also attended a child birth class taught by Serra Wells that supported home birth as a viable choice. It was so helpful to meet others who had chosen home birth.

The day before my daughter was born I went to my regularly scheduled appointment with Dena and she informed me that the contractions I was feeling were the real deal and that we would be having our baby soon. There was no sense of emergency, just warmth and excitement radiating from Dena and Amber. This was so reassuring that I was able to enter labor with joy and confidence. Dena and Amber were very supportive throughout labor and the birth of our daughter. They helped guide me through the final stages of labor and calmly helped our baby into the world. Avery took a little bit to breathe, but Dena cleared her lungs and gave her a little puff and she cried her first little cry. With a home birth, the umbilical cord remains attached to the baby and the placenta until all of the blood has returned to the baby. This allowed Avery to remain at my feet receiving oxygenated blood rather than whisked off to a table in a delivery room. I was able to hold my baby right away and experience all of her first moments. This was so incredible for me as I did not get to be with my first daughter until she was an hour old.

Dena and Amber remained with us for several hours after Avery was born, unobtrusively checking us to make sure we were both doing fine. A defining moment occurred when Dena was helping me after I took a shower. I was still a bit unsteady and she actually dried my legs off for me. I can’t imagine a hospital setting where a doctor would deliver your baby, fix you breakfast and then dry your legs after a shower! I was so pleased that Dena and Amber would be back to visit us several more times in the week following Avery’s birth. I did not feel alone or abandoned as I had after the birth of my first child. I owe a great deal of thanks to Dena for allowing me to trust my body and the process of birth despite a prior C-Section. Our home birth was a beautiful and powerful experience. My husband and I are very grateful to Dena for providing women the opportunity to birth at home and to have a natural birth after a C-Section.

Thanks Dena and Amber! Michelle Burdette and Family

Epic Birth Journey and the Midwife's Bag of Tricks

   The longest day of the year was celebrated in high style at Sacred Ways Homebirth, with one of the longest home births of the year.  Much congratulations and love to Ajay and Walker, who have given me permission to inspire others with their heroic journey into parenthood.  
    There is usually a big difference between the labor of a first time mother (primip) and that of a second or third or fourth time mother (multip).  Once you have given birth to a baby, the next one is remarkably faster and easier.  This spring my assistant Amber and I attended several multip births where we arrived, set up, hung out for an hour or so, and the baby came out.  Lovely, beautiful births;  happy families; midwife home for dinner.  Then came our first-time mama Ajay's birth.
   Ajay began her labor on Sunday afternoon.  Contractions were 10 or 15 minutes apart and Ajay did exactly what was best for her;  carried on with her day alternating between activity and rest.  She tried to "rest" at bedtime, but by then they were a consistent 10 minutes apart.  By 2 am she was uncomfortable and in a regular labor pattern, and made the call to us.  When we arrived I could see that her contractions were strong and in a good labor pattern, but that she had a way to go.  She asked if I would check her cervix, but I procrastinated and put her in the birth tub instead.  I had a hunch she was a small amount dilated, and I didn't want her to get hung up about that.  (Midwife trick #1)
    The birthing tub was just the thing for her.  She relaxed beautifully between the contractions, and moved through the water during them.  Walker got in the tub and held her.  It was dark, with candles lit.  We gave them privacy;  they got sensual and snuggly. (Midwife trick #2)  The contractions got stronger and closer;  a sign that the labor was progressing well.  At 6 am she got out of the tub and I checked her - 7 cms!   An hour later she felt "some pressure"  and wanted to get back in the tub one more time before pushing.  Two more hours of hard labor went by.  We checked again and found  - 8 cms.  That is only one centimeter more in three hours- ugh.  Ajay's progress had stalled.  I could feel that the baby's head was not down against the cervix because the bulging bag of water was in the way.  We decided to break it, which would bring the baby's head down and hopefully help finish the dilating.  (Midwife trick #3).
    With her waters broken, Ajay walked around and worked with the intense sensations.  I could tell she was losing steam.  We fed her miso soup, a whole bottle of Recharge, and put her back in the tub.  She was so tired, she started saying things like "I can't do this anymore.  This isn't working.  The baby won't come".  I knew that the baby could come.  She had in her favor:  1. The baby in an excellent position, NOT posterior.  2. an excellent labor pattern of strong, long contractions.  3. She had stayed well hydrated.  4.  The baby was doing great;  perfect heart tones, clear fluid, and movement.   But I needed to change her mindset, because I could feel that emotionally I was losing her.  I told her we would not make her do this forever, but let's give it one more hour to get to complete dilation.  I gave her a homeopathic remedy, caullophylum.  (Midwife trick # 4) Then I gave her affirmations to say with me, instead of  "I can't."  They were something like "I am allowing body to open.  My cervix is opening now."  I said it with her, Amber said it with her, Walker said it with her.  As she repeated the words, she relaxed and became centered again.  It worked.  (Midwife trick #5).  At noon there was just an anterior lip of cervix remaining.  I had her push mightily while I lifted the rim of cervix up and over the baby's head.  (Midwife trick #6) 
     Ajay is a strong woman, an Enloe  nurse I might add!  She munched some chocolate covered almonds (Midwife trick #7), downed another bottle of Recharge,  sat on the birth stool, and pushed.  She felt the pressure and she pushed and pushed and pushed.  She got up and pushed on the toilet, (Midwife trick #8) tried several different positions including standing lunges (Midwife Trick #9), and pushed and pushed and pushed.  The baby did not really budge.  At all.  After two hours.   In the hospital, this would be called "arrest of descent"  and a cesarean would be done for the baby "not fitting through".  Hmmmm.   I sorted through all the files of past births in my brain, to find one last trick.  I remembered a birth many years ago.  "Ajay, "  I said.  "Stop pushing now.  Let's have you take a break and just stand in the shower for a little while" (Midwife trick #10)  Ajay enjoyed the hot water coursing over her, and I guess she grabbed something and squatted during her contractions because after ten or so minutes alone in the shower she yelled " Something is bulging in my butt!"  Eureka - that something would be the baby!   I popped my head in, saw that progress had been made, and kept her in there another ten minutes.
     Back on the birth stool, we could see the baby's head peeking through.  The baby had come down through the bones, and was almost here.  With each push now, progress was made, although it was still slow.  We heard a deep drop in the baby's heart rate for the first time. We heard it again.  It recovered, but I told Ajay that it was time to just have the baby now.  Finally, finally, the head came through, the baby slipped right about, and Ajay's nine pound baby arrived.  He was dusky and his  breathing was labored, so we rubbed him up, talked to him, and let the pulsing intact cord keep providing him oxygen. (Midwife trick # 11) We gave him blow-by oxygen and his color turned a rosy pink (Midwife trick #12)  Once it stopped pulsing we cut the cord to take him in the steamy bathroom with the hot shower running full blast.  The hot vapor did the trick, and his breathing was easy and regular by the time he was ten minutes old  (Midwife trick #13). 
        Then Mom, Dad and Baby cuddled into bed.  Chicken enchilada casserole was warmed, and things were quietly tidied while bliss and bonding occurred in the family bed. 

  With that twinkle in her eyes and glow of her grin, would you guess Ajay had just labored for 24 hours?   Would you guess it took her 6 hours of labor to get from 7 cms to 10 cms?   If she had planned a hospital birth, she would be in surgical recovery, instead of here.  This is why home birth is important.  The truth is, women are stronger than one would ever believe.  Birth works, folks.   Now I am off call for a month, for family time.  Happy Summer!  

Emotional Freedom Workshop at the ACNM Conference

    I was blessed to attend the ACNM (American College of Nurse-Midwives) conference and annual meeting last week in Long Beach, CA.  Not only did I attend, but I was a presenter.   My offering was a four-hour workshop entitled Healing Trauma for Mothers, Families, and Midwives with EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique).
    Twenty-two midwives signed up for my workshop.  Many were directors of large practices, university faculty midwives, and pioneers in the midwife movement.  I was humbled and deeply moved by the honor of teaching this energy healing work to them.   I created a healing, sacred circle for these powerful midwives, complete with an alter in the center.  The workshop was experiential.  We learned about EFT, and then practiced healing each other.  Several of my sister midwives experienced profound healing.  It was beautiful to witness these women, who give so much of their lives in service to mothers and babies, take care of their own emotional well-being.  Here they all are, at the end of the workshop:

     Aren't happy, emotionally tended midwives beautiful?

    Two summers ago, I had the opportunity to study EFT with an internationally acclaimed EFT trainer named Sonia Sophia Illig   ...    Sonia's Website here   .  EFT is both a talking and a physical / energy therapy.  As you talk about your emotions, you "tap" on acupuncture points in a relaxing, beautiful series of movements.  This combination of reviewing your trauma and the emotions around it verbally, and tapping on the points, actually releases the trauma from the nervous system and tissues.  It is easy to learn and do, and results occur quickly.  Emotional pain is diminished  and a person feels lighter, more clear, and free.

    I use EFT in my midwife practice when painful emotions and past traumas are identified during  prenatal visits.  It is so empowering to be able to heal emotional pain, right there, in the office. Before I knew EFT I would listen compassionately to women's stories and feel frustrated that I couldn't do something to fix it other than offer referrals to therapists and healers.  Now I say, I can help you heal this;  lets do some EFT on this.  All VBAC clients must do at least one session with me. (See my other VBAC posts for more on this).
      The workshop at the ACNM conference really became about healing the healer.  Self-care for midwives is vital; we carry so much responsibility and often take difficult births or outcomes personally.  Midwives tend to burn out, and have health problems and divorce rates at record numbers.  There are little to no professional avenues to process the trauma midwives experience, and it was amazing to bring that to the American College of Nurse-Midwives.  
   A neat thing about EFT is that you can use it on yourself, and then easily use it to help others.  When you are healing others, you get healed as well.   Here is what one attendee said about my workshop:

  "Hi Dena,
I really appreciated the EFT learning session, which you offered at the ACNM conference 2012. It was wonderful. I'm a CNM who offers Home birth and Birth Center births and always love to learn alternative modalities to offer to our mama's. Attending your workshop gave me new tools for my clients but, also for all of the Midwives and staff who I work with. What a wonderful healing opportunity we now have to offer to the healers themselves.
Within days of your workshop, I was able to offer the healing modality to one of my pregnant clients. She tearfully thanked me for the comfort it provided and planned to use it at home as well, to continue with her self healing.
How empowering, I thought. Love it.
Thank you for bringing this loving modality to us.
Blessings, Lorri
 PS, you can use this as you see fit. Good luck. hugs

Lorri Walker, RNC, NP, CNM
Founder & Director
South Coast Midwifery & Women's Health Care"


  

Two Equinox Babies; Part 1

    I was blessed to attend two sweet births last week, within the three days around the spring equinox.  Both families were repeat customers of mine.  Their darling toddlers know that I helped them into the world as well.   I will share these beautiful birth stories in two posts.   
    Vanessa went first...she called me at 3:30 am on March 19th.  I rolled out of bed and was off.  She was having her third baby so I knew there was not a lot of time to spare.  I arrived at her house where she was laboring in the tub, her husband Adam by her side.  She has quick, intense labors, and goes deeply inward during the process.  I peaked in on her, and then went to set up my equipment for the birth.  Her two daughters were asleep in their beds and her mother was making a quiche in the kitchen.
     A half hour later she got out of the tub,  and I noticed some red bleeding .   It was a small amount, but noticeable.  Vanessa had had a marginal placenta previa (the edge of the placenta was located over the cervix) at the beginning of her pregnancy and had some bleeding from it at 18 weeks.  The placenta moved out of the way of the cervix as the pregnancy progressed, which we had confirmed by ultrasound recently.   I put my doppler on her belly to listen to her baby's heart rate and it was low, in the 60s, and then climbed back up to normal, 120s.   Hmmmm, I wondered if the ultrasound was incorrect and the placenta margin was being exposed as the cervix opened.  The more common reason for some bleeding and a drop in the heart rate is that the cervix is opening quickly and the baby is suddenly moving into the birth canal.   We listened again through a contraction and heard the heart rate drop down again for a minute or so.  Adam looked at me.  "Should I call 911?"  "Okay" I answered, not convinced this was an emergency but playing it safe.
   Vanessa flipped over to her hands and knees and we continued to listen to the baby, whose heart rate soon returned to normal.  The bleeding  stopped.   The heart rate dropped a little bit during the next few contractions, and then didn't drop at all.  When the paramedics arrived, they peaked into the room where Vanessa was laboring on her hands and knees on the bed while we listened to the baby's heart rate.  The head paramedic assessed the goings-on in the room, and said to me, "I see you have everything under control, just come out here in the hallway and tell me what is going on."  I was pleased with his respectful, hands-off attitude.  I stepped out of the room and gave him report; what had happened and how my concern was quickly diminishing.  He had a student paramedic with him from the community college, who was taking all this in like a sponge takes spilled milk.  "Look,"  our head paramedic said, " I can see you are making sure mother and baby are safe.  Why don't we just wait on standby in the other room while you monitor the baby a little longer, just in case."  "That sounds fine", I agreed, delighted they had not insisted on touching Vanessa, coming into her labor room, or anything.  So they hung out watching Grandma make the quiche for a half hour, then had Vanessa and Adam sign a form, and left.
   The moment they left the house, Vanessa felt an urge to push.   She put her hand over her yoni and pushed against her baby's head as it was born.  Then, pink and squawking, Baby Jackson slipped into this world and was placed on his mama's chest. His apgar scores were perfect 10s at one minute and five minutes. (meaning, he was full of oxygen and energy and vital life force)  Vanessa was thrilled and relieved, and told us later she hadn't been afraid, and hardly noticed the paramedics' visit, she was so deep in her labor.  Adam felt reassured by their presence at first , and then was relieved when they left.  I was grateful to know we have respectful, timely emergency services available to help if we need them, that are also willing to just step aside when we don't.  I called the 911 dispatcher to tell the news of the healthy birth and praise our paramedic team.  The dispatcher sounded excited, like she had heard all about this case, and promised to tell the paramedics right away.  The quiche was delicious - goat cheese and spinach.  The two older children , Kayla and Addie, woke up at their usual time and were delighted to find a new baby brother Mama's arms.   Happy Equinox!  

 

Maui and the waterbirth of Matson

  Aloha readers!

   The midwife is back, after an extended winter of travels.   I had just recovered from my travels in India, when it was time to attend Jenny and Chad's beautiful birth.  (see video below!) Then we set off on a major family camping expedition to Maui.  The Moes Family Band played at a music fesitval, Maui Mystic Island,  at the end of January.   We stayed for two more weeks, camping and exploring the wonders of the tropics.   Here we are playing our set at sunset on the beach.

   Some YouTube footage will be coming  soon.

    Speaking of YouTube, my January clients Jenny and Chad made this lovely birth video!

The Waterbirth of Matson     http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1GYBoqyMaNE
  Enjoy!


Dena

Heart Meltdown at the Taj Mahal

   It's official - I have been in India long enough that my armpits smell like curry.  Really, this has happened!  Eat Indian food twice or three times a day for ten days and your body sweat becomes fragrant like tumeric and cumin..  I was sniffing my shirts to determine the need to launder them, and they smelled aromatic and spicy, instead of sweaty,  right in the armpits.  At first I figured I had spilled food on my shirts - how else could they smell like that? - Then I realzed the odor was truly coming from the armpits.  Just imagine how aromatic Indian ladies' amniotic fliud and breastmilk are...

  I miss my children.  I dreampt last night that I had left Sophia home all alone and gone to a big Chikoko gala event.  Suddenly I realized that it was 11pm already and quite dark outside.  I hadn't meant to be out so long! How would Sophia be handling that all by herself?  So I went out to the lot to get my car, and the lot was like an Indian taxi lot, cars so crammed in tight you couldn't even get one out if you wanted.  And I couldn't remember where I left my car anyway.  A feeling of urgency to get back to her came on, and I woke up.  Whew, I didn't really leave her alone;  I am in India, she is home with Adam safe and sound.

   I spent a day in Agra this week.  I was told that while I am in India, I must see the Taj Mahal.  Simply must; it is a two hour trip from Delhi.  Agra itself is known to be a bit of a pit, so I did it as a day trip.  There is a train that takes you to Agra in the morning, and brings you back again that evening.  They feed you breakfast on the way and dinner on the return.  Once at the Agra train station I hired  a taxi and driver for the entire day for fifteen bucks.  My driver took me to all the Agra sites - the Agra fort which houses the fantastic palaces of three Moghul emperors, the backside view of the Taj from across the river to see it cloaked in morning mist, and the Taj itself for afternoon and sunset.  He also took me to his "friends'" jewelry and carpet shops, (meaning he gets a commission for bringing me there) which was an annoying waste of time because I wasn't interested in buying. 

  Agra was as bad as I had heard.  It is filthy, ugly, poor.  There used to be factories here but they had to close them because the industrial pollution was turning the Taj Mahal brown.  So tourism is the only industry, and the locals are hungry for tourist money.  One is intensely hassled wherever one goes  As we drove from site to site I peered into the crowded neighborhoods.  Filthy children playing in the dirty streets and pooping on the roadside, garbage everywhere, starving dogs and cows eating the garbage, children fetching water from a central pump (no sewage or running water here) , monkeys copulating on the rooftops, men urinating , people washing their clothes on the stones by the water pump, and throngs of colorfully dressed people carrying all manner of things on their heads filling every space.  Wow.  We are definitely not in Kansas anymore. 

    The sites themselves were as amazing as the city was horrifying.  The Agra Fort brought to life the book I just finished reading about the area's history called City of Djinns.  The Moghul Empire was a brutally violent, but artistically and culturally brilliant Muslim dynasty that lasted in Northern India from the 1500s until the British took over rule in the mid 1800s.  Delhi and Agra were the seats of the Empire.  The Emperors perpetrated incredible acts of violence upon their enemies, and also on their male relatives, inlcluding their own sons and brothers, in order to keep hold of the reigns of power.  They rode around on elelphants, kept palace harems full of hundreds of women, and built palaces, mosques, and mausoleums that are some of the most beautiful buildings on this great earth.  These have remained remarkably intact despite India's turbulent history and the area's profound poverty.  When you build with solid white marble within a fort of fifty foot sandstone walls with spiked gates unbreachable even by elephants, you really are building to last...

  The Taj Mahal itself is the biggest monument to love ever built. It was built for Emperor Sha Jahan's beloved wife when she died in childbirth.  I passed through the gate of the Taj complex at three o'clock, looked out across the vast park/pavillion, and up to the Taj glistening white in the bright sun.  My breath was nearly taken away.  Yes, seeing the Taj is worth the hassle of a day in Agra.  It is the most beautiful man-made thing I have ever seen.  Pictures cannot show you what you see in person.  The giant building floats above the ground.  It does not appear to be anchored to this earth.  The pure white marble domes soar in the air.  It made me weep in awe.  I pulled my shades over my eyes, pulled out my hanky, and gazed to my heart's content.  For three full hours.  

    I found my way to a mosque off to the side of the Taj.  The courtyard in front of the mosque was completely empty except for a few muslim men washing their feet in a pond and coming in for afternoon prayers.  The tourist crowds were all in the main pavillion area.  I sat down against the wall of the mosque in the corner, covered my head with a shawl, gazed up at the Taj, and had a good, good cry.  The contrast of the bleak poverty with the stunning beauty, all happening side by side, finally caused my heart to crack open.  How can we stop the poverty?  How can we help all these children have a clean place to live, school to attend, a way out of their current conditions?  How can we clean up all the garbage?   I felt how much I love them all - every single person in India from the hasslers and touts, to the filthy children, to my sister and her sweet baby.  I want to help everyone!  

  After a while my tears turned into song, and I softly sang a tibetan mantra of peace and enlightenment to myself.  The sun began to set, and the Taj turned from bright yellow-white to soft pink.  I lingered until dark, and slowly made my way back through the pavillion.  At the gate I turned one more time to gaze.  The Taj was now dusky blue-grey in the darkening evening, mist from the river rising around it like bedcovers.  I pulled myself away, back into the taxi, and then to the fly and rat-infested train station to await my ride back to Delhi.

  I don't have answers to the poverty and suffering, neither do the Indian people.  But now my journey will take a spiritual turn, and perhaps some greater understanding will arise.  Tonight I go to Varnasi, City of Light.  This town has been the holiest site for Hindu pilgrimage in India continuously since 600 BC.  That is 2600 years of pilgrimage!  Hindus believe that to come to this city , do puja on the banks (called ghats) of the river Ganges, and then bathe in the river, will remove you from the suffering world and bring you to Paradise.  I have a hotel room booked right on the river above one of the main ghats for three days.  When Mark Twain visited Varnasi he wrote "Varnasi is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend.  It looks twice as old as all of them put together."  

  Then I will travel on to Bodh Gaya, the place of awakening,  where the Buddha attained enlightenment.  You can sit under the Banyan tree that is the grandaughter of the one the Buddha sat under. It is said that just to sit there brings one close to enlightenment.  .Buddhist pilgrims come from all over Asia and the world to be there.  I am hoping some of that enlightened energy will rub off on me,  so I can bring it back to the family and community that I love, and the women and babies I serve.   This will be my last post from India - offered with love.  Namaste!
  

A Palace, a Bollywood shoot, and an Opium Tea Ceremony

   The morning after the wedding was a slow start at Hem Guest House. I was the first up, and did some yoga on the rooftop.  Our tired hosts (who had come home at 4am) managed to put together chai and toast, and I went off to sightsee for the day.  I spent the day in the fort above the city.  The palace in the fort was the home of the local Maharaj for centuries.  There is still a Maharaj today but he lives in a newer palace on the edge of town.  He and his family have lovingly preserved his ancestral palace and created a fascinating museum within in it .  The museum has art and royal artifacts from the 1500's on.  An audio tour that comes with the ticket explains everything, and tells  anecdotes and stories.  The Maharaj himself speaks on the tour, explaining things.  Here are some pics pulled off the web of the palace.

    What was not part of the regular palace tour was this - a Bollywood movie was being filmed at the palace that day.  There was a cavalry of medieval soldiers, some on horseback, some carrying giant spears and swords, bloodied and wearing full medieval Rajasthani armor,  being filmed marching into the palace complex.  There were medieval princes and princesses watching them from the palace steps.  There was Bollywood music blasting during each take. After the tour I sat in the cafe drinking a lassi and watching the actors.   It was a lively addition to the palace visit.
      I had a mellow evening at the guest house, and had dinner with some folks visitng India from Singapore.  It was interesting to learn about Singapore, which is an English-speaking country full of Chinese, Indian, and Malaysian immigrants.  The next morning my new friends Ering and Peng joined me on a jeep tour into the rural villages outside of Jodhpur.
  This activity known as "Village Safari" brings foreigners into traditional rural villages to see how the craftspeople make their wares using centuries-old technologies.  It is brilliant - it costs tourists just a few bucks, is a fascinating experience, and gives us a chance to buy the crafts from the families that make them. This provides them a living so they can continue to live in their traditional ways.  It was lovely to get out of town, into the trees and fields, and dirt roads.  The simple lifestyle of the villagers was just as I imagined.  Whitewashed mud huts with thatched roof, outdoor kitchen cooking over a fire, food grown and then stored in large clay pots in a cool storeroom.

no microwave oven here!

     These are pictures of a Bishnoi house.  The Bishnoi are a Hindi sect that are known for being especially respectful of nature.  They will not cut down trees, only take dead branches.  The area in which they live is full of healthy, beautiful trees, and antelope and happy cows.  Three hundred years ago, the Maharaj sent his army into the Bishnoi village area to get wood to make his palace doors.  When the army arrived to cut down some trees, a woman ran out and hugged the tree to stop them.  India's original Julia Butterfly.  Except then they cut off her head.  So her three young daughters ran out to hug the trees.  Their heads were also cut off.  After 62 Bishnoi heads had been cut off , the Maharaj caught wind of the problem.  He ordered the army to stop cutting heads, came out and apologized profusely, and promised to protect Bishnoi trees forever.  The subsequent Maharajs have maintained this promise.
  Opium has been used in this area for centuries.  It is not smoked, but taken as tea.  The maharaj would give opium tea to the soldiers before marching them into battle.  That way, they would be braver,  having visions of Paradise, and if they were hurt, they already had pain relief on board.  The Bishnoi people drink opium tea as part of their rituals as well.  We were privleged to participate in an opium tea ceremony at the Bishnoi home we visited.  An ancient vogi prepared it by straining it through cotton filters, and praying and chanting over it.  I am a "when in Rome" sort of girl, so while my friends politely declined, I tried some.  He poured it into my right hand to drink. It tasted very bitter, but I sure felt relaxed and happy for the remainder of the safari...
   We got back to Jodhpur in time for a big meal and then catching my night train back to Delhi.  Now I am here regrouping and taking long shifts of baby-holding for my sister.  I have certainly forgotten how busy it is to have a one-month old baby.  This baby likes to be held all the time...isn't that a shocker!  Tomorrow I am off to Agra for the day to see the crown jewel of the Mughal Empire - the Taj Mahal.  Then on Thurday I will take a night train to Varnasi on the Ganges, the holiest city in India. It is Shiva's birthplace, and where Hindus make pigrimage to bathe in the holy river Ganges.  From there I make pilgrimage to Bodh Gaya, where the Buddha attained enlightenment. That will about just wrap up this India adventure.

Cheerio!