Showing posts with label more about me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label more about me. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Slow Bike "Rounds"

I fulfilled a childhood dream yesterday. As a child, I always wanted to be one of those women who rides her bike to visit mums and babies.

I must have heard about it from my mum and her friends, talking about their pregnancies in the north of England in the 1950's and early 1960's. The image of the local village midwife, riding to visits on her bike, just stuck with me. It seemed slow, perfect, just the way someone should visit you when you have a new baby.

That (and reducing our carbon footprint) was why we moved back into town. But, it's only since I've had my shiny new yellow road racer that I've felt brave enough to do my client visits by bike.

So, when I realized that my son had my car, and I had to do a few visits in Yaletown, I bit the bullet, and headed out over the windy bridge. There's nothing more satisfying than going to visits in the busy downtown core and not having to worry about traffic, red lights, or parking. I even managed a whirl on the False Creek bikeway. Between visits, I stopped at a little French bistro, sat in the sun at a cafe table, and ate my lunch while answering the inevitable (but fun!) phone calls from two postpartum mums.

Thanks to my clients who didn't mind seeing me dressed just a little less professionally...what? my blue dragonfly jersey isn't totally business-like? Thanks also to my clients who didn't laugh at my helmet-head.

I rode home from my lovely visits with a parting gift of chocolates dangling from my handlebars, 30km/h (over the speed limit!) on the last bit of the bridge, past the Planetarium, under the bridge, past the Granville Island tourists, and up the hill to my home. Fabulous! Then the phone rang again. I put the kettle on and chatted some more. A pretty amazing realization of a childhood dream.

So, be forewarned...I'll probably be coming to see you on my bike very soon - glowing, shiny and smiling!

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula, Slow Birth, Slow Planet

Sunday, April 05, 2009

An adagio hits a day of speed at full force

I've noticed that I can manage most things as long as I move slowly through the day.

Within a few weeks, my children and parents will all be living within an easy bike ride.

I can walk or ride my bike to visit most of my clients. (Yes, you can expect helmet head when the weather is good!)

I can walk home from both BC Women's and St Paul's after births (there's nothing like breathing in the crisp early morning air as I walk over the Burrard Street bridge at 6am.)

The huge physical and emotional effort required to be intensely focused on a labouring woman and her family for hours and hours (sometimes days) is only possible when I live slowly, with intention, and gain strength by moving through the world using only the power of my legs.

Last week, I was reminded of how I used to live with the continual drain of moving at high speed. (How did I spend 17 years doing the 60km daily return commute from Tsawwassen?) So, there I was, driving along the highway to visit my best friend in Crescent Beach (I can only manage this 90km drive about once a month, now that we live a Slow Life). My iPhone alerted me to three email messages, two clients called to talk about miscarriage (on speaker), another called to let me know that she was in early labour, my mum called to say that my dad's blood test showed that his leukemia was gaining an upper hand and a blood transfusion would be needed soon, and a postpartum mum called to talk about her baby's latch.

And behind all of that, like a sound of a cellist playing Albinoni's Adagio in the background - pulsing, throbbing - was the vision of a client's beautiful 8-month-old daughter who had just lost her battle with an unknown lung disease. She is the first child ever lost to a client in 21 years.

The sad music of her mother's face.

I could have handled it all, if I'd been riding my bike, drawing on the strength of my body, the pumping of my heart, feeling connected with the world. But, somehow, it just all seemed too much, driving at 110km/h. 120 km/h. The adagio had hit this day of speed at full force.

I needed to be slow. I needed physical and emotional nourishment. I needed to be home. I needed to sleep long and deep. I needed to help a new mum and her baby that afternoon. I needed to visit a joyful pregnant woman. I needed to cry. I needed to hug. I needed to dig in the garden with my dad. I needed to help a baby come into the world. I needed to ride down a hill and breathe.

And, once I was back home, I was able to do all that, and more. I regained my footing, and I was able to be there, focused and strong, for everyone, and for myself. Slowly.

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula, Slow Birth, Slow Planet

Friday, March 27, 2009

There's always room for more babies!

Please email me to see if I have any openings for April, May, June or July. It never hurts to ask! Some babies have come quite early (amazingly!), so I have some emerging space available. Right, lots of room on that comfy sofa!

We'll be off to slow travel through Europe, while eating slow food, from the beginning of August until the first week of September. While I'm away, my backup doula will be available to field any questions or concerns...and even attend any early births!

I'm fully available for new clients with due dates after September 8th. Please remember that I ALWAYS have room if it's your second (third or fourth!) baby, or if you're a returning client.

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula, Slow Birth, Slow Planet

Saturday, January 31, 2009

The Birth Paradox

On my first day of Stats 316, my prof said that there was a 99% probability of finding two people who shared the same birthday in our class of 57 people. This is known as the "Birthday Paradox". Well, I think I was hit with the doula equivalent today.

I walked to my visit this morning. As I got closer to the couple's house, I thought, "This is really close to where Julie and Trevor lived then they had their baby in 2001." I walked another block, checked the address...and, it was EXACTLY where J&T lived. The same green house on the corner. I know the bathroom where she laboured...the stairs she walked down as she headed to the hospital. Wow! I know this home has good birthing energy.

Funny thing is...I am working with ANOTHER couple right now who ALSO live in the same house as former clients. And neither of these couples have ANY connection to the former clients who used to live in their houses. No connection...

So...that's TWO repeat houses at once...after 21 years as a doula...after 800 births. Is it some sort of record? Or does it say something about the folding of time, the paradox of time? Or does Jacquie energy remain in these houses?

Let's call it the Birth Paradox.

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Sunday, January 25, 2009

The Girls!

Man, I do love working with clients for a second (or third or fourth) time!

I get to really connect with the mums, dig deeper into what makes them (and their labours) "tick", and watch the emergence and transformation of a mother.

I love the postpartum visit, where I always manage to have a tea-party (or, in this case be presented with a wooden mixer and a plate of wooden toast, wooden egg, and a special spoon) laid on by a little sparkling one in a tutu, play a song or two, and hold a crying baby.

It's a wild and wonderful visit with lots of laughter, and tears so close to the surface that you can almost touch them.

I love to see these mums finally understand that their first (typically LONG) labours were just normal for them (and their baby) on that day (no one's fault, no guilt, it was what it was)...and that their second labours were glorious life-affirming gifts. What healing! What depth of understanding comes at this time!

No wonder we're all smiling (all except that wee one!)

- Jacquie Munro - Vancouver Doula

And Charlie makes it 800!

Welcome to Charlie, the bonnie lad who has the honour of being my "800th baby"!

His mum was amazing, surprising even herself with her stamina, strength, and power!

His dad surprised himself at being able to stay in the room!

No interventions, no nothing, what a thrill!

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Monday, January 05, 2009

Rituals

When my daughter and her husband were married, a strand of beads was held in their hands. From a crystal bead that came from Great-great Grandmother Sarah's necklace to a stone from their favourite beach, each token holds a message from those who will support them in their marriage.

Just like birthing beads in Africa, where each woman attended by a midwife adds a bead to the midwife's strand, increasing its power and significance, this strand of beads gains its power from the wishes and love of each person who contributed a bead.

I have always loved ritual. As a child, I was more in love with the ritual of the Anglican church service than the Christian faith itself. I loved the music, the chanting, the link with history. When the church dropped the Book of Common Prayer and the use of Latin in daily service, I was ready to leave. I had to be content with the occasional trip to Europe, where, slipping into a Catholic Mass in Rouen, I could feel at home and recite the Latin words without thinking. In labour, I sang the Gloria without even realizing what I was singing. The ritual of recitation (not the faith) brought me strength.

In labour, these remembered rituals can be so potent. I often hear women in labour singing old hymns or songs or nursery rhymes in the shower. Women often revert to their mother tongue in labour, even if they've been speaking English for years. A Ukranian nurse shouting in the hallway has the power to make a woman from Kiev smile and relax. Sometimes, hair brushing, just like a mother will do for a child, will be the link to the past that calms a woman in labour.

At a cesarean birth long ago, Tibetan monks brought in a fuschia-coloured silk scarf, or kata, that had been blessed by the Dalai Lama. That was the first piece of cloth to touch the baby after birth. The OR was transformed by this ritual. The walls seemed to fall away...the surgical steel disappeared. All that seemed to remain was the baby, shining in the light.

Birthing beads, a mala, a blessed kata, a song, a whisper in the ear...these rituals mark our important life events. I wonder what rituals my own children will use to mark the birth of their own children...what rituals I will witness at the births of my clients this year... I wonder.

Saturday, January 03, 2009

Summertime...and the living is easy...

It's still snowing outside, so I'm just going to think ahead to the summer. I'm really sad (but, oh, so happy) to say that we'll be away in Scotland, England, and France from August 3rd until September 8th.

Returning clients have already started to call for the month of August, and I've had to break the news gently. I do hope that any other returning clients who are due in August will still call and use me as a resource (I'm always here for you to call!) But, you may want to consider working with my favourite midwives for this pregnancy! You'll be in amazing hands.

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Monday, October 20, 2008

Good as New

Touch wood...I'm feeling as good as new and ready to work!

I'm not allowed to lift anything (like a post-cesarean mum) for a while yet...but I generally don't plan on lifting pregnant mums. That's a job for the dad!

So, please don't hesitate to call me!

Saturday, October 11, 2008

"Oh, is this the fibroid?"

Well, well...take a look at the quote above. Picture the scene. Lovely, caring and chatty admitting clerk walks me up to the ward (with my dear husband). Since it's 6:30am, there are no nurses to be found. A nurse comes out of a room and wanders down the hall (was she sleeping in there, I wonder?)

The clerk says, "I have a new patient for you," and the nurse replies, without looking at me..."Oh, is this the fibroid?"

The clerk pointedly answers, "Her name is Jacqueline Munro, and she's here to have an embolization this morning."

Rather than making me upset, this dehumanizing language almost almost made me snort with laughter. Three thoughts instantly came to mind: 1. Sarah Palin (queen of the stupid comment). 2. If only I was a cartoonist, then I could have done this comment justice. 3. Who teaches these young nurses anyway? Empowering and respectful language is paramount, girls!

Thankfully, shift change comes quickly, and my pregnant (of course!) day nurse K was lovely!

Thoughts and questions about my hospital experience...

1. Everyone should have a doula...for anything done in hospital. At least the doula would make everyone introduce themselves!
2. Catheters without an epidural are not fun...not exactly painful...but very unpleasant.
3. Why are patients blamed for the nurse's inability to successfully insert an IV on the first try? "You mustn't have been drinking enough water." (Nope...I'm floating in the stuff!)
4. Nice art work in the recovery area at UBC...very nice... (Okay...I must be drugged) The Fellow says I have more fibroids than she could count (I love being unique).
5. Why did the anesthetist play Bob Dylan's Blowing in the Wind? And why do the nurses and resident think that it's Willie Nelson (They're TOO TOO young to be working on my body!)
6. Why did everyone start talking about Halloween while I was being given a cocktail of conscious sedation drugs?
7. I want to thank the porter for singing me lullabies while in the elevator.
8. I'm not accustomed to having a heartrate of 44 (Is this the effect of fentanyl or morphine? Yikes!) The talk of atropine doesn't thrill me.
9. The bed was quite comfy.
10. Wherever I go...even when I'm totally drugged...people tell me their birth stories in great detail, and want to know if I approve of their doctor/midwife/OB/hospital choice. I just want to sleep!
11. Who added those sickening bumps to 16th Avenue?
12. Why don't I remember seeing the specialist whose name is on all my prescriptions? Was he hiding or did the fentanyl make me forget?

One client said she's happy that I'm going through all this...at least I'll have the hospital experience fresh in my mind. Well, I can tell you that I can now relate to having narcotics (I stopped taking them asap), that I understand the agony of post-surgical gas pains and nausea (someone needs to warn you about this BEFORE the cesarean), that I know the feeling of a digestive system that isn't quite ready to start working again (also - thoroughly unpleasant), and that I now feel like I'm 10 weeks pregnant (and waiting for the morning sickness to go away).

But, I can also say I'm in awe of the fact that my hemorrhaging stopped as soon as I was in recovery. I'm happy about that...but still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Each day, a little bit better. Those healthy wishes from friends, family, clients and blog readers really do help. Thanks!

p.s. The photo is of a fibroid knitted by a medical student...

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

I'm off to see the wizard...

I'm off to see the uterine fibroid wizard at UBC Hospital first thing in the morning. "No food after midnight, etc., etc." This is all new territory for me. My only previous major hospital stays have been for my children's births. Though I'm going in for a different reason, the focus is still on the same body part...the uterus. Everything I do seems to revolve around this amazing muscle. I hope it cooperates tomorrow. I should be up and running in a few weeks...

Wish me luck!

Thursday, October 02, 2008

Lady in Waiting

If you’re having a hospital birth, perhaps one of the most challenging parts of labour is the transition from your home to the hospital. Many couples worry about the car ride to the hospital, but it’s amazing to see how most women manage the ride with surprising grace. If the car ride is timed so that it coincides with the trance induced by high levels of endorphins (well past the mid-point of labour), then the whole journey can be manageable.

To illustrate - I vividly remember one client’s ride to BC Women’s from UBC. It was around 4am. She threw a coat over her naked body, somehow managed to run to her car down a long apartment hallway (between contractions), then crawl onto the back seat of her minivan, exposing her bottom to an old man in a trilby hat, who was coincidently walking his little Scotty dog past us at that moment (you should have seen his face!) Bouncing along in the car, this normally private woman laughed and laughed. “That was FUN!” Yes, the trip was uncomfortable, with her husband trying to negotiate hundreds of potholes, but the absurd nature of the trip far outweighed the pain it may have caused.

The stories that result from the car ride can be epic, from the woman riding to the hospital with her head popping out of the sunroof of a Mini, to a recent dad’s call to BCAA: “I locked the keys in my car with the engine running at the Emergency entrance to the hospital!” If you’re lucky, you’ll notice the absurdity in the moment, and laugh.

Now, it’s the hospital assessment room that can be a possible source of stress. If you’re lucky enough to have a midwife who has already completed the assessment at home prior to hospital arrival (which happened last week with one client), you might manage to bypass the assessment room altogether - yahoo! - and go straight to your birthing room. This causes a lot of excitement and very little stress.

The next possibility is that the family doctor will meet you at the front door and do the assessment personally. The continuity of care provided in this scenario is wonderful, and the time spent in the assessment room can be relatively short, provided the hospital can quickly assign you a nurse. There’s also the added bonus of having an additional advocate present to help negotiate the hospital protocols. If I’m lucky, I can coordinate this...but it’s really hit and miss.

If the family doctor is busy with another birth, or en-route, or your primary caregiver is an obstetrician or resident, then we have to hope that the assessment room is not too busy, that all the other women in the assessment room don’t require high levels of care, that the staffing levels aren’t low on this day, and that there’s more than one nurse available to care for the 5 beds in this area. Fingers crossed that the assessment room stay won’t drag into multiple hours, which can easily happen. (I always try to call first, so at least I can alert my clients to the possible delay.)

There are a lot of variables that can increase a woman’s stay in the assessment room. The assessment room nurses (who are amazing, highly qualified, and caring people) do everything in their power to take into account BOTH the triage process and each labouring woman’s needs. There’s a lot of paperwork to be done, protocols to follow, personalities to placate... The assessment room nurse needs 8 arms, two heads, and more than a little wit and understanding, to make it through each shift.

It may appear to clients (husbands especially, since the labouring woman is generally just focused on each contraction) that the nurses are sitting at the desk doing nothing. Often, the people sitting at the nurses desk are not the assessment room nurses, but interns, residents, other doctors, or even a clerk. The supervising nurse in assessment must juggle all her patients to ensure that the woman with the highest care needs can proceed to the next “level”. Granted, the nurse might not be able to explain what she is doing for each woman during the process, but that’s what I try to cover with clients in between contractions. “Yes, it might look like you’re being ignored, but you’re NOT. She’s left the room to negotiate with labour and delivery to have a nurse transfered up to Cedar to be with you, so you don’t have to wait until a Cedar nurse returns from her 45-minute break, etc. etc.” It’s my job to fill in the gaps in information. But, if I need to breathe through the contractions with the woman in labour, the dad will have to wait a bit for my briefing.

Even a 45-minute stay in an assessment bed may seem like an eternity, but it’s about as fast as the system and safety will allow (unless you’re ready to push...then you get to fast forward!) For example, the nurse needs to read a woman’s chart thoroughly to determine her risk status, her drug allergies, her particular needs, and contact her caregiver (and wait for a response). If a nurse is forced to cut corners, a woman could inadvertently be given a contraindicated medication (i.e. fentanyl being given to a woman with an drug allergies), or miss important medical information. I am able to highlight certain important points when I speak personally with the nurse, but she must confirm this by reading through the notes, and then doing a thorough history and assessment herself.

The setting certainly doesn’t make a labouring woman feel safe or calm. The beds are narrow, the space is noisy... But, I ask all clients to imagine that we’re still home, to keep their eyes closed, to focus on a calming hand, the soft pillow, their partner’s voice, my voice. Often I have to talk the woman through each and every contraction, so that she remains calm between each contraction. Yes, she might roar during contractions, but that’s her way of coping. It’s the in-between times that tell us how she’s doing. If she’s able to breathe calmly between contractions, or even say, “Wow! That was intense!” or “I didn’t like THAT one!” then she’s fine. (I try to wangle assessment bed 5...the one with a DOOR!)

As a doula, the assessment room experience is certainly challenging. It takes years of experience to negotiate the process gracefully and diplomatically. Most problems can be prevented creatively. Petty staffing wars can be averted by anticipating them in advance, and steering clear of potentially tense situations (trust me, I’ve seen it happen recently.) Protecting the woman in labour is paramount.

Sounds like it’s better just to stay home until you’re ready to push (which is what one doctor laughingly suggested recently).

Hmmm...at least you have a doula with you who knows the staff and your caregiver, and can provide the best possible “concierge service” around...

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Monday, September 29, 2008

Lying in...

Well, this month has continued to be full of lessons for me. I've been listening to my body and caring for it very well. I'm astonished at how much better I feel already. Though still anemic, I'm light years ahead of where I was in August. I can climb stairs and not pass out! My heart isn't racing if I walk to the bathroom! I realize now that I was living in a perpetual state of "pseudo-9-month-pregnant life"...you know, that period where you deliberate over moving the bed into the living room just so that you won't have to climb the stairs...or find that linking arms and sauntering is de rigeur (rather than your usual non-pregnant power walking).

I'm well enough to feel good about heading into hospital on October 8th. I'm not daunted by the post-procedure pain that I've been warned about ("You should be able to relate...it's like a couple of days of labour," said one doctor.) I'm not going to fight the suggested recovery time of a few weeks... I will listen to my body and honour its needs.

(p.s. The amazing painting is "Crawl Out" by Vancouver artist Madeleine Wood)

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Listening to your body

Well, it's certainly been an interesting month...I now know how the VGH ER works when you really need it (yes, the triage system works well and I jumped to the front of the line!), how little an IV hurts when you REALLY need it, and how fast you can get appointment with specialists in the BC Medical system when you are considered URGENT. I also know the odd, prickly, clammy, scary feeling that comes from losing too much blood...very interesting (from a professional standpoint), but I don't need to experience it again.

The whole time, my mind stayed in doula mode..."Ah, that's what a good fast IV feels like"..."Interesting - even though you know there's no needle in there, you just don't feel like waving that IV arm around". I was happy to receive such respectful care from the VGH staff (who even turned around my bed to face the wall so I could gain more privacy during an exam, without me asking). And, in the middle of caring for me, one nurse chattering, "Wow! You attend births? I think cesareans should be the way of the future...I'd rather crack open a chest than watch a birth. You're so brave!" I laughed, even though I felt ready to pass out.

And I can still see the smiling face of the ER doctor as he came in and said, "I want you to know that the biopsy was negative for cancer." I almost laughed...I really (amazingly) hadn't considered that to be even a possibility. It was quite funny, honestly.

Interestingly...I presented with such CRAZY high blood pressure (I've NEVER even seen a client with HELLP syndrome have this high BP) that I got 3 nurses at once. Hmmm...probably not something to brag about. So...I'm not pleased with my body this month, and that's an odd thing for me.

I always tell clients that they can trust their body, that we just have to figure out what the body is trying to say. Well, I'm listening and waiting...

Perhaps everyone's right in saying, "Look, you have cared for others for 20 plus years. Now it's time for us to look after you."

So, thanks so much to my docs, Stephanie and Kristin, for telling me to take this month off, and expediting matters so successfully. Thanks to my clients who call to check in, or send text messages that make me laugh. Thanks to my husband (for taking time off work to care for me) and my family (my mum and dad even come and clean for me!)

And that postpartum tip about asking for help? It works! If you just tell people how you really are doing...they will step in and help. It's quite amazing. The struggle for new mums (and now me) is in the acceptance. I think I'm good at acceptance now.

So, to all my current clients due in the next few months...we'll just have to see how my appointment goes next week, and then I'll be giving you a call (surgery may await!) My daughter, Sarah, and I might be doing tag-team birthing for a while. But, I'm always here, ready to listen and help guide you through your pregnancy (this hasn't affected my mouth or ears!)

Okay, body...I'm listening...

Friday, July 25, 2008

"Silence is the perfectest herald of joy" - William Shakespeare

I remember going to one of my first doula visits (with the woman who would eventually give up her law practice and become a doula) and talking with the couple about all the things we had to discuss before labour. My client's husband later confided to her that he was alarmed by how much I talked during the visit. "Oh!" I said. "He hasn't seen me at a birth. I'm so quiet. My eyes and hands speak, but not my voice." He was so relieved (I think I'd actually scared him at that visit)...and I went on to attend all three of their children's joyful births.

The reason I talk so much at our prenatal visits, is that there is so much to cover. My own children are in their twenties, and I have been discussing birth with them all their lives. I STILL haven't covered it all with them! Can you imagine trying to filter all the information to fit into two visits (and many phone calls) with clients? It really can't be done.

The best I can do is help my clients get a sense of the underlying philosophy of birth, to encourage them to trust their bodies, to help them to remain undisturbed while going through labour. I still talk and talk before labour begins. But, the volume goes down to a whisper once labour is upon us, just as the lights go down....because we have to be silent to hear the lessons that the coming baby has to share.

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Ten Questions

I think there’s a purpose behind the nine long months of pregnancy. This time is vital for introspection, reflection, setting boundaries, and discovery. As I’ve said so many times before, birth is not a “body” act...it’s an act of the soul and the mind and the will.

Yes, I have a checklist of the things that I need to discuss with clients...and worksheets for them to fill out if they’re “paper people”. But, in order to serve my clients well, I need to go further, deeper. So, over the months, we talk on the phone discussing everything from diapers to spirituality. I often ask couples some unusual questions to help them uncover how their life experiences may affect them during the birth and postpartum. Usually, the deeper we go, the greater the understanding, resulting in a much more positive emotional experience for everyone.

If we skim the surface in our phone calls or visits...or if clients don’t share honestly with me...or give me only SOME of the pieces to the puzzle...then the house of cards may fall down, and a challenging birth and postpartum period may result. I can only work with the information that is given to me.

So, thank you to all my clients who take the time to build a bridge of earned trust. Thank you to those who hear me, to those who share openly and honestly with me, their partners, their families, and friends. Those who share without masks or guilt or shame should find that the process of pregnancy and birth will take them to a whole new level of living.

So, here are just 10 of the questions that I may ask over those nine months...some might appear unusual...but there’s a method to the madness...
  1. What kind of an suitcase packer are you? Do you have games to see who can take the least amount of stuff in your MEC duffle? Or do you always end up paying for overweight luggage? (This question is not just about what you pack!)
  2. How long does it take for you to make decisions - on your own, and as a couple? Did you take 10 years to decide to get married? Or do you often kick yourself for being too impulsive (like Dharma and Greg on TV)?
  3. How much guilt do you take on in life? Do you think you’ll be able to be pragmatic and avoid “mother guilt”? (We have enough guilt in the world...)
  4. Would you ever consider going on standby? Would you be okay with the wait? If three flights were cancelled, would you just “roll with it” or feel like you were being tortured by the wait? (One dad described waiting for labour as “Sitting at the gate, waiting for a standby flight to Auckland. You know New Zealand is beautiful, and you’ll love the trip, but you have a love/hate relationship with the flight - you might even get to the point where you want to jump out of the plane - but it’s all worth it!”)
  5. As a couple, how do you think you would you do on “The Amazing Race”? Would you be the “bickering couple” or the “couple who accepts any challenge happily”? Would you spur each other on to better things, or do you think you’d give up? (One couple described themselves as the “bickering couple” who you know love each other incredibly - and win!)
  6. When you’re on a big ride, or hike, or in competition, how to you respond before the endorphins kick in? What strategies have you come up with to cope with your known response? (I whine initially, but my husband encourages me, lets me go slow, then cheers when my endorphins kick in - the best supporter!)
  7. What kind of family boundaries do you have? What family issues are swirling around you as a couple? Would you be able to say “We’re on a baby honeymoon...and we’ll see you in two weeks”? Or would your families’ actions become the talk of your small town? (One couple went “underground” for a week at week 2 postpartum, because they had been bombarded by family visits, and the new mother/baby connection had suffered as a result. Going “underground” helped them to claim their autonomy as a new family.)
  8. What was your role in your family of origin? What was your partner’s role? How do you plan to reconcile the differences as you become parents yourselves? (One client realized that her actions as a first-born, and her husband’s actions as the “baby of the family” required discussion prior to the birth of their first baby...and looooong walks on the beach.)
  9. What has been your greatest emotional challenge in life? How did you cope? How has it changed you? (One client said being thrown into the shark-infested waters of the Indian Ocean made her face her fears. Another said writing her bar exam taught her to take life “lightly”. Another said her battle with cancer at age 19 had changed her “from a lamb into a warrior”.)
  10. What have I missed? Is there an elephant in the room? (Though I’m not the family physician or midwife, I do need to know, in advance of labour, if a client has a clinically diagnosed fear of giving birth. That happened in 1990...and it’s a long story... )
- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Vancouver or Bust!

One of my recent clients is a doula from Fort McMurray. She drove all the way to Vancouver to have her baby. I was honoured that she asked me to support her and her partner (and sister) through her labour. With her permission, I'd like to share a part of her email that she sent me after she had driven all the way home with the new baby (only a few days after the birth!)

"I really wanted to email you and say thank you once again for a terrific job and your incredible support. I drove to Vancouver with hopes for an amazing birth, and I couldn't have imagined it being any better, even though it was longer than I anticipated! I wrote down my birth story as you suggested, and literally just finished reading your notes. Like you said, it's so funny what a different perception you have when in labor. I love the quotes you wrote down, and I honestly thought you had arrived at my sister's place at 4am, not 4:45! You make the birth sound like it happened a heck of a lot faster than what I remember it feeling to be. What an incredible experience! Thank you for making it be so.

I can't remember if I explained this to you or not but bear with me if I already have. There are three things that you did which were crucial to my needing encouragement to carry forward. The first was the 2:30am phone call I made to you where I said I was considering going to the hospital to walk or have my waters broken and you said, "No, you're not. Go to sleep and let your baby and your body do what they need to do." I had read a birth story before driving out to BC, and this women spoke of a laboring tradition in Africa where a laboring Mom is guided to a log by village women who have not yet had children. This woman crosses the log by herself with no help and is welcomed on the other side by all the women who have children. At my sister's apartment I ventured out onto the log and at 2:30am I got stuck there. Your voice at 2:30am showed me the way across that log on my own again and you greeted me on the other side. It was amazing.

Secondly, was your word of "Safe". In my own time, mostly during a warm shower at home, I would envision myself in labor and I found myself singing a mantra of "It's okay, I'm safe here." I never explained this to you beforehand and you using that word during my contractions at the hospital renders me speechless at how effective it was in guiding me. My husband asked later if this was a word that you and I had chosen together and I said, "Not at all. She just knew."

Lastly, when it came time to get onto the bed and my contractions were extremely intense, you held onto my thighs firmly, almost as counterpressure, and it was incredible how more in control I felt during my contractions when you did this. It is definitely a tool I will carry forward when I begin doula work again. I know the hip squeeze is a welcomed favorite among my clients, but just that security of the firm hold you placed on my upper thighs was incredible. Truly.

So, thank you again so much for all that you have both helped with and taught me about. My gratitude for the opportunity to work with you
goes beyond words, and should I choose to have a fourth baby in Vancouver, I sure hope I can work with you again."

...And I thank HER for letting me be a witness to her power on that day!

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Peasant Feet










I usually get at least one or two phone calls a day from clients upset about the pregnancy comments and “war stories” that other women feel the need to share.

“I don’t want to hear it any more!” said a woman to me this morning.

Another client said she was literally trapped by a cousin at a family gathering...wedged in at the back of a table, locked in between a great-aunt and the story-telling cousin. “The baby’s head was SO BIG that they had to...(insert whatever horror story ending you like here).”

These comments, so freely given, can stick with you, and really hurt. Or they can turn what was a carefree pregnancy into a time of anxiety.

“Wow, you’re big!” or “Boy, you look small for your dates!” or “Make sure you get an epidural in the parking lot!” or “I’m just going to book a cesarean next time! You should, too!”

The endless combinations of horror stories and thoughtless comments are awe inspiring.

In our phone calls, I usually remind my client that it’s perfectly acceptable to say you’d rather not hear the stories...or just stick your fingers in your ears and go “LA LA LA LA!”
Protect yourself from these stories - using whatever means available!

Now, I’m not pregnant, but I was given a taste of how my clients feel just the other day. I was feeling pretty good. It was the long weekend, I’d been to a lovely birth overnight, I’d slept well, and knew that no babies would arrive on that day. As a treat I thought - I’ll look for some new sandals (I’m usually a no-nonsense “get in and get out” kind of shopper). I sat down with an array of pretty sandals to try on.

“What size?” asked the clerk. “Ten,” I answered.

She came back with a pile of boxes...then looked down at my feet. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “I should have had a look at your feet first! You have PEASANT FEET! Just like me! You won’t like those...you need something much, much wider.”

Then she proceeded to go to the back, returning with a clunky (ugly!) pair of servicable fish-net runners. Ugh! “Those are better for you.”

*sigh*

So, okay, people. Here’s a plea. Keep your comments to yourself. We’re happy to live in our own little worlds, with our own (perhaps misguided) ideas about our own bodies, our babies, our lives...whether we’re pregnant or not. We don’t need to hear your war stories, your “birth as rape” or “birth as prison” stories...or even how teenagers are going to ruin our lives. A positive outlook really doesn’t hurt anyone. I choose to think positively!

Personally, I like the fingers in the ears, “LA LA LA LA” approach. Now, I’m just going to shove my peasant feet into some nice flip flops...or, better yet, go barefoot to visit my next client.

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

An Undisturbed Birth

I've been talking a lot about "an undisturbed birth" lately.

The language that we use in labour is so potent. I'm uncomfortable with many descriptive terms surrounding birth, such as "I'd like a normal birth"...or "She had a natural birth" ...or "We did a pure birth." It sounds like all others are abnormal or unnatural or impure. Birth just should be.

So, it came to me, recently, when I realized that so many of my clients have what I describe as "she just went into labour and then had the baby" births...they had all been undisturbed in labour. My role is to keep her private space protected and undisturbed, to help her feel free to move undisturbed, to be the guardian of her cave. She remains hidden, unobserved, in a safe space.

Even if I'm with her, I cast my eyes down in respect, until I am addressed. Often, I am just a hand, or a whisper, or even a silent presence beyond the curtain. Her partner sits still, a great gift, close by.

The photo shows it all. She is safe, alone in the shower. Her partner, and I, and her midwife, watch the rippling reflections on the floor, listen to the rhythmic pulsing of the shower, become transported, lost in time.

Our job is to help her remain undisturbed.

But...Oh, no! Here's the night nurse, who I usually adore. But she walks in at 7pm, saying loudly..."Och, it's HOT in here!" We all put our fingers to our lips...hope the woman dancing in the water doesn't hear... Later, the woman says her body tensed up at that moment, and she thought, "Oh, no, she's loud and Scottish!" and it took a while for her to get back into her undisturbed rhythm (and she later came to love the accent).

An undisturbed birth is a challenge to achieve, but its effects are immeasurable.

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula

Do you need a doula? (or...I am your Sherpa)

I was debriefing with a second-time client yesterday. She wanted to tell me how important it was that I was by her side at her second birth. “This time, lots of people said I didn’t need a doula - that you’re not a midwife...that the doctors and nurses would be there to help me. But I knew that you’d be there just for me - and I trust you. I knew you were there in my corner - always.”

Her husband thanked me for being there again - for helping to create such a positive experience. He put it all down to what he calls “the Jacquie magic”...the fact that everyone in the hospital treated them differently because they were with me.

It’s sad, but true. The hospital staff do treat patients differently depending on their caregivers. They’re human - they have their favourite doctors, nurses, and doulas. I really would love a world where everyone walking through hospital doors was treated equally. But, right now, it doesn’t happen...so if I can do anything to make my clients feel more autonomous, more respected...then I will. Petty “wars” can be waged between overworked and under-respected staff, and I do everything in my power to prevent my clients from being a witness to negative behaviour. Preventative magic helps.

It all starts prenatally. We cover every possible scenario in our talks over the phone, in person, via email. We discuss the woman’s hopes and fears, interspersed with stories of her life. We talk about how the couple works together, what their strengths and weaknesses are, how they face challenges separately and as a couple...even how they’d react if they were bumped from an important overseas flight. We discuss family dynamics, setting boundaries, postpartum planning. The prenatal preparation isn’t about following a prescribed path - its about finding how each woman’s life experience has uniquely prepared her for this particular birth. Whether she needs to do soprano vocal exercises in labour, or relive that amazing underwater night dive in Fiji, conquer the West Coast Trail’s ladders once again, or run the Paris marathon with each breath during labour - we will uncover her own history that will carry her through to birth. My job is to protect her from outside disturbance without her ever noticing (it’s kind of like trying to be the best server possible).

Luckily, since most clients are referred to me by their caregiver (and others), I know that there is a web of security and trust between us all. I may have known a woman’s midwife for 15 years (from the wonderful “community midwife” days)...or have been the family doctor’s own doula...or have known the doctor-on-call with the extremely dry wit (who my client has never even heard of) for 20 years. I know their style, their particular sense of humour, how they react when they’re tired, how they react when they’re sad, and most especially, how we can all work in concert to provide the very best care for my client. We often know each other well enough that very few words need to be spoken. This helps the woman to stay in her birth trance, without interference or complication.

At home in labour, after the client has spoken to the caregiver, I can offer additional information. The other night, in between contractions, I only had time to say...”Hi! Second baby, just vomited, some bloody show, some pressure, we’re coming in. Oh, and she’s GBS positive but doesn’t want antibiotics.” “Fine,” said the doctor, because he knew he could trust me that this baby was coming fast. I called the hospital and spoke with the assessment room nurse, who said - “Hi, Jacquie. We’re short four nurses because they called in “sick” on the long weekend, so no Cedar (the fancy rooms with windows) tonight. But we have a room for her.” When we reached the hospital, the nurse and I exchanged glances as soon as we walked through the door. “Hey Jac...pushy?” The couple didn’t really have to say anything - they could stay in “the zone”. We went straight into a birthing room - no stopping in the assessment room. She stayed standing by the bed. No “please lie down, put this gown on, etc. etc.” Her wishes were honoured without debate (the nurse and I had had the GBS-decision discussion a few weeks ago, so there was no need to belabour the fact on this night).

At the hospital, I know NEVER to show up at the end of a shift, when tempers are frayed - you will either be left to wait for the next shift, or be caught in the vortex of emotions borne out of 12 hard hours. If the vibe is weird in the assessment room (like it was a couple of weeks ago), I know the nurses well enough to whisper, “What’s up?”, and be trusted enough to be told the truth - that everyone’s on edge because an obstetrician wrote an incident report after a woman was sent to Cedar without allegedly fulfilling the criteria (long story). A war is brewing. We negotiate, and figure out a way (enlist the dad’s aid) to have my client go upstairs to Cedar without it causing a problem for the nurses in assessment (diplomacy in action). We’ve been through enough that we’ve built up a trusting relationship, and are able to work together collaboratively, seamlessly, so that my client doesn’t even suspect that we averted a petty war on the hospital floor.

I’ve worked with clients giving birth at home and in the hospital for over twenty years. I’ve quietly built bridges with midwives, physicians, and hospital staff. I’ve worked to earn the trust of each nurse and each unit clerk (these women have their finger on the pulse of the place). The amazing thing is, each new client reaps the rewards of the cumulative history of all these births, and all of the experience gained from those who have gone before her.

I’ve learned to chatter less and listen more, to teach by example, to foster trust in each woman and her baby, to soak up every lesson, to read voraciously, and to constantly tend the bridge of trust and diplomacy with all caregivers. Because I am autonomous, and not affiliated with any group or hospital (no affiliation = no baggage), I can focus on each individual client’s needs and wishes without prejudice.

I’d love there to be a day when I could trust that each and every woman in labour could be autonomous and free to give birth undisturbed, that her history would be one of complete trust in the body, that no doulas would be needed. But, that’s not possible in today’s society, within the current health care system. Each woman still has her labour, her own history, AND the system to negotiate.

Each woman in labour still needs a navigator (one midwife recently said that I have to add "Even with a midwife!"), or as I laughingly say at times, “Just think of me as your Sherpa,” as I carry the bags up the stairs. Each woman climbs her own mountain, while I quietly deal with the bureaucracy, the logistics, climbing up the stairs behind her, all the while chanting like Barack Obama...”yes you can, yes you can...”

- Jacquie Munro, Vancouver Doula