by MotherWit | Sep 18, 2010 | Uncategorized
I woke up on the morning of September 2nd with a feeling I usually get in my gut before I travel anywhere. It’s a slight feeling of unease, like maybe I shouldn’t have planned this trip in the first place. Maybe I’m not made for this. Maybe I should cancel. Maybe I should continue to live my white bread life in the suburbs of Montreal. I was leaving for Madagascar. How the heck did that happen? Who thought I was cut out for this?
I was already all packed, so I burned off the pre-flight jitters by writing a bunch of receipts for my clients that were long overdue. Finally, it was time to go.
My husband and little son drove me to the airport and dropped me off at the Air France departure area. As we approached the Dorval Airport, an amazing feeling overtook me. Instead of anxiety, I felt an overwhelming sense of happy anticipation. This is unsual for me, as I’m usually a wreck before flying off somewhere. I admit I am a neurotic traveller. So leaving for a country like Madagascar should have had me in paroxyms of panic. But I wasn’t. Instead, I just felt really excited.
I met with my companions Dr. Deborah Goldberg, Sarah Hunter, a friend who usually lives here in Montreal and practices midwifery when she lives in the US, and her baby daughter Keelia. Everyone was in good spirits as we navigated our way around. We had a lot of baggage. We had our own clothes and gear like sleeping bags, as well as a fair bit of midwifery equipment, rain gear for the Malagasy midwives, 400 bottles of donated children’s vitamins, and every nook and cranny crammed with women’s and children’s clothing we had purchased at the Salvation Army. Some of our bags were slightly over the allowed limit, so we had to do some creative redistributing. One of our bins was extremely heavy, and we had to pay $300 to check it.
I was a little worried when we had to take out all our liquid objects and put them in a clear plastic baggie for examination, because I had lots of herbal tinctures and essential oils with me. But nobody cared, as nothing added up to over a litre. Phew. I would not like to have flown without my Motherwort tincture or dealt with stomach issues without oregano oil.
Finally, we waited to board. Every once in awhile one of us would say, “Oh my God…we are actually going to MADAGASCAR!” After all the dreaming, planning, organizing, fundraising, meeting, packing, and arranging, we were finally about to accomplish what we had set out to do: fulfill the wishes of the members of Taratra Reny sy Zaza, an organization of women and children in the area of Mahatsinjo, Madagascar. The facilitator of this project, Karen Samonds, asked these women if they would be interested in having any friends she knew from Canada to come out there and do some workshops discussing nutrition, health and environment, family planning, general health, goals for their future, as well as provide training for the local traditional midwives to increase their skill level. They seemed excited by the prospect, as their community definitely experiences a lot of health issues. That put the wheels in motion. So there we were with bells on, ready to board the plane. not knowing exactly what we were in for, but so grateful to have the opportunity to do whatever we could. We didn’t really know what to expect, but we were willing to share whatever information and skills we had to help improve the lives of these people Karen and her husband Mitch have alway spoke of with great fondness.
None of us could stay for very long. Deborah is a family doctor who focuses on maternal/newborn care. She has been catching babies for about 7 years. Sarah is part of a co op that sells soap and natural products, and spends much of her life helping to run the store and tending to a new child. I have my own children at home and many clients counting on my presence at their birth. Our trip would be 10 days, though with the immense amount of travel time required, we would only really have about 5 days and six nights in the forest doing workshops. A crazy whirlwind endeavour, for sure, but what is life if not for a little adventur
Right away it was apparent that as travelling companions, we were all going to get along well. Sarah and I have been friends for years, so I knew that wasn’t an issue, but it was clear immediately that Deborah was really open, willing, positive, and supportive. We all clicked, and am happy to say that the vibe remained that way throughout the trip, with each of us lending support to each other whenever we could. Sarah and I have our schtick after years of adventures together. We normally speak together with every second word being four lettered. We bitch about stuff a lot. We laugh at radom things other people wouldn’t understand and have inside jokes. We’ve experienced things in our work as birth attendants and general lives that would make the average person faint and doctors cringe. And Deborah took it all in stride. She comes from a very different background altogether. She is a medical professional. She is stable and contained. Not that Sarah and I are unstable, but neither of us have exactly led the white picket fence existence nor had our young lives shaped at the bosom of a Clever like family . Deb has, and as a result is a naturally easy going, confident, grounded, practical, focused person. An upstanding citizen, even. And good on her for that. For whatever reason, our co-existence worked. We respected each others’ values and differences, and came out of our time together with an even higher regard for each other than when we went in. This is a rare and precious thing. Nobody chose to get caught in any conflict of ideals or of judgements, and as a result our combined respect, efforts and resources made our work together far more powerful.
Because Sarah had Keelia and a cane (her hip gets messed up sometimes, so she brought it in case she needed help walking), she was always moved up to the front of the line. Deborah and I figured we would take turns pretending they were our wife and child. We got a little cocky, thinking we’d get some special treatment along the way. HA! Did I tell you we were traveling Air France? If you would like to sit back and watch some of the weirdest, rudest, snottiest service ever, just grab a flight with Air France. This in no way reflects upon the one or two lovely individuals throughout our entire trip who were actually kind and considerate, but as a whole, the experience was so shocking I had to laugh. I don’t meant to be ungrateful, as they did get us to our destinations safely and in once piece, but not without us being horribly treated, dehydrated, and half starved. I am not one to complain much about things like service, as I tend to be pretty easy going…but wow. It was something else.
We kept to ourselves mostly through the first leg of the trip, which ended in landing at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. You kind of have to prounounce the name of this airport fast,as if it were all one word, the “s” on “Charles” being silent, the “Ch” said as “Sh”, the “e” at the end of Gaulle being pronounced as if you had just been tapped in the gut, all the while with your lips pursed as if you had just laid eyes on someone behaving rudely. I watched a couple of supremely bad movies, listened to some music, and was constantly aware of being very thirsty with no offers of water coming our way. The flight attendants all wore a nauseating amount of perfume. This should not be allowed, a flying tin can full of smelly neurotoxins. They also had this thing where they would act totally pissed off at you because you were too stupid to intuit their protocols. For example, at one point I wanted some coffee. The woman held out a tray that contained milk and sugar. I tried to take some milk and sugar and practically had my hand smacked off. “NON!” I got scared. What was I doing wrong? Was I breaking some sort of ancient French custom? I was being looked at with loathing and contempt that should only be reserved for someone who has done something really awful, like farted loudly in church. My heart started palpitating. Beads of sweat broke out. Then I realized I was supposed to place my cup upon the tray for the flight attendant to fill it. I complied, but in my nervous state flubbed up and put my hand on the whole tray as if to take it, not just the cup on it. “MADAME!” was shot at me like a freakin’ bullet. I forgot that I could speak French and had enough word skill to verbally eviscerate her ’til Tuesday if I so chose. But I was just so surprised at the level of vehemence over something so small, I was silent. Meek, even. She left in a cloud of indignation at being affronted by our North American idiocy, and I drank my coffee, feeling like I wore a mark of shame tatooed on my forehad. Sarah looked at me with her eyes and mouth wide open in disbelief. Ah, this is but one example.
We arrived at Charles de Gaulle at about 4am Paris time and had to wait about 6 hours to board the 10 hour flight to Madagascar. Keelia was awake and running around. We found a little playground area and hung out there. As shops in the airport opened, we popped our heads in. We washed and brushed our teeth in the bathroom, and had some tea in a cafe. Keelia ran around, flirting shamelessly with other travellers.
After awhile, it was time to hang out at the boarding area. We thought the plane would be mostly full of Madagascar natives, but mostly, the travellers seemed to be white tourists from different parts of Europe. There were a couple of interesting characters: A Malagasy nun carrying a colourful statue of Jesus with its hands all bandaged up….a very churchy looking family with several little girls with braided blonde pigtails….an extremely grumpy man who looked at all the children waiting to board as if they were loathesome, even though he had about three of his own in tow. Finally, we boarded, ready to endure another onslaught of Air France brand hospitality.
Deb had sneezed at least 100 times at the airport…possibly the result of too many perfume fumes….and decided to take some decongestant before boarding. As a result, she practically fell asleep in her food when it came. Because it was very early morning in my stomach’s time, there was no way I was going to be able to eat the heavy meal they wanted to give me, so I refused it. Sarah and Deb kindly grabbed a couple of pieces of bread and cheese off my tray to save for me for later. We tried to sleep, but all Sarah and I really did was shift consciousness a little. Keelia remained a great sport, and finally slept a bit. I had headphones in my ears while she apparently had a small freakout.
Every once in awhile we would check where we were. It was amazing to know when we were flying over the Nile, or directly over Kilamanjaro. It was all very strange to us that we were actually over the continent of Africa. As the time came closer to land, we got more and more excited. Like SUPER excited! As we landed we were all practically holding hands with giddiness, bouncing on our heels the way children do. When you get out of the plane in Madagascar, you go down a bunch of stairs and land directly on the tarmac. The first thing I noticed when I stood in the doorway of the plane was the sweet scent of woodsmoke, a smell I had always loved. That smell would permeate our lives for the next week. The feeling of the air was cool and still. We had arrived. I took a couple of photos, but the airport people clearly objected for some reason, so I put my camera away.
We had been told before we left that a guy named Shady would tend to us when we got there. Yes, Shady. Of course, when we saw him and he turned out to be a pretty skinny dude, we called him Slim Shady, and in our sleep deprived state sung a lot of “Na na na NA na na.” Before Shady came on the scene, though, we had to get visas. Again, because Keelia was in our presence, we were forwarded to the front of the line. We were a little nervous that the guy who led us there grabbed our passports and took them away from us for inspection, but that seemed to be the protocol. We received our passports with the visas completed, then went off to wait for our bags, which took forever. Even Slim Shady was getting impatient.
As we got out of the arrivals area, we met up with Karen, who looked fabulous in her purple Lilla P wrap. Finally, with all our many bags in tow, we went through customs, and thanks to Shady, nobody even questioned what we had with us. For all they knew we could have been smuggling heroin. But when we said the bin was full of children’s vitamins, they didn’t question. Yay, Shady! We could have been held up there for an awfully long time given all our stuff.
Jean Luc, a founding member of Sadabe, (Karen and Mitch’s organization), who was born and lives in Madagascar, was in the parking lot to meet us with a truck. We packed our stuff in, then Deb and I went back inside the airport to change some our money into Malagasy Ariary. 2000 Ariary equals about $1. Given the amount of mosquitos flying around, I was very happy I had chosen to take Malarone.
Finally, we were off to the house just outside of Antananarivo Karen, Mitch, and their girls Anne and Evelyn rent for when they are not living in the forest. We were all completely exhausted. It was interesting seeing bits of the capital at night with everything closed. Karen’s house is right beside a cell tower. It is nestled beside a larger home. In the parking lot were broken down tourist buses. In the house was Jean Luc’s wife, who is due to have her first baby in December. We greeted her and learned that the Malagasy do 3 cheek kisses, as opposed to our Montreal 2 kisses. There was a child sleeping on the couch, and when she woke up she looked excited to see us. “Salama!” she greeted with enthusiam.
In Karen’s house there is a living/dining room. There is a sink for washing up, and in a teeny little room a stovetop to cook on. There is no fridge. There is a bathroom with a sink, toilet, and porcelein square with a drain to bucket shower over. There is no hot water, and the running water stops frequently, necessitating a bucket of water dumped into the toilet to flush it. There is electricity, but it apparently goes off a lot. Upstairs, there are two rooms to sleep in. Karen led us to a room with a double mattress, and a little sleeping nest set up on the floor. We eyed them gratefully. As Karen was explaining that we would get to sleep for about 4 or 5 hours before heading off to the forest early in the morning, her elder daughter Ann woke up.
Ann exudes pure love. She has big blue eyes like her daddy’s and a face that expresses joy with ease. She ran into the room practically wriggling with glee to see us. I took her into my arms giving her a big snuggle. Evelyn toddled into the room soon after and it was so good to hug children. I felt pangs of missing my own. I realized that all three children in the room were babies I had seen born. I never forget what an honour that is, and what a bond that creates. We all settled down to grab some sleep, the happy sound of nursing, cosleeping toddlers filling the air, anticipating a long, busy day tomorrow.
Stay tuned!
by MotherWit | Sep 14, 2010 | Uncategorized
I just heard that Kandy and Vince had their baby this morning…natural birth, perfect latch. Thanks to MotherWit Doula Steph Bouris and MotherWit apprentice Andrea Legg for their superb, reliable support. All unfolded as it should have.
by MotherWit | Sep 14, 2010 | Uncategorized
Salama!
I thought I’d let y’all know that I am back from Madagascar, safe and sound. I am firmly out of commission until tomorrow evening, but thought I’d send out a little update.
I am experiencing a level of jet lag that is making me want to crawl out of my own skin. I have already had a couple of lessons thrown my way since I got back, too. Yesterday I found out that, as is typical when I go away for any length of time,a couple of people were either in or threatening labour. My first reaction is always to say, “Oh, well, forget about that day off for recovery, I’ll just go to those births.” But when my beloved neighbour drove up beside me yesterday while I was talking to another neighbour on my street and said, “You’re back! I’m in labour,” I just knew I couldn’t do it. To agree would have been stupid. In fact, given that she will be in fantastic hands with any of the MotherWitties who back me up, it would have been an ego based-workaholic-prove to the world I can do anything-extreme endeavour. And who would that serve? Not my beloved neighbour. So I let it go and told her to call upon my backup. I also learned an expecting mother of twins, my third in 2 months who have gone way over their due dates, was being induced yesterday. My backup for that birth asked if I would be going in. Oh, man.
Let me explain. Sleeping in a tent in a surrounding far from any “civilization”, where all energy of the people of that area goes towards surviving with limited resources, you learn by observing that there is just no time to wallow in distractions. In Mahatsinjo, Madagascar, tending to the basics of one’s life in a focused manner is not just about creating a state of balance, which we First Worlders have the luxury of indulging in or not (if you don’t have groceries for supper one day, you can order out, if you don’t balance your cheque book, you have overdraft, if you run yourself ragged and become ill, you can get medical care and sick leave), but a matter of staying alive. If I learned anything, it is to tend carefully to my life. Birth attending is a huge part of my life…I adore it and feel it is a calling and a path. But if I were to attend a birth wasted by jet lag, with digestion that, while not exactly “runny”, is rather delicate at this moment, worried because one of my travelling companions called me with the report of having rapidly proliferating fleas, and 3 children and a husband who are feverish and coughing and desperately in need of my maternal nourishment, would this be tending to my life? Not really. And truly, it wouldn’t be heroically attending the woman either, as what good would I be to her with all this in my presence right now?
I find that whenever I come to an important decision about things, in this case a resolve to make a concerted effort to tend more deeply to what I have in my life rather than allowing work to justify the constant state of distraction and harriedness which has been impinging terribly upon my life, I am tested to put my money where my mouth is. Whatever that means. But there you go. Back to the neighbour pulling up beside me in the car. I had a choice. I know what Pre-Madagascar Lesley would have done. But this time, I took a deep breath, and I let it go. With love and best wishes. With the knowledge she will be better served by another. That she can, indeed, do this without me. With the knowledge that I can be here to help when she’s back home. That to allow myself to take proper time to rest and recuperate from an adventure I cannot even begin to describe at this point, is not the self-indulgence of a weakling who can’t heroically do whatever is asked of her without boundary, but a necessity….for myself and my family. Today I will tend to my home and my health. I WILL tread gently, depsite the pull, which I accept will always be there, to choose the more harried path which, while making me feel “accomplished” and even “heroic” in the moment, often has extremely depleting repercussions, leaving me in situations of such ungroundedness, that I do things like walk around without an updated Medicare card for literally years, or forget to get my son’s birth certificate in time for him to start school, or get shockingly behind in administrative duties, despite the tons of help I have. It is time to tend to my foundation with more focused attention, letting go of the shame over the cracks in it, that shame making the pull to harried distraction more magnetic, thus exacerbating the severity of the cracks. It is all a matter of choice, and this trip, along with the crazy Malaria pill dreams I had (I know Malarone is not supposed to have this side effect as much as Lariam, but I had CRAZY illuminating dreams all the same), showed me that “I just can’t manage it,” in reference to tending to the basics of my life is a huge freakin’ cop out.
I know you’re all dying for stories, and I have so many. Every night before I went to bed I jotted down notes so I would remember details. I will take a little time whenever I can to have this adventure unfold, photos included. I have decided this is not just another distraction, as blogging is wont to be on occasion, but an important way for me to process my experience as well as bring attention to the beauty, the ravages, the energy, and the spirit that is Madagascar.
Karen Samonds, the lady responsible for bringing me there, told me when I arrived in the capital city, before heading off to the forest, that this place changes you indelibly…that you don’t come back the same. And the tears brimming in my eyes writing that statement speaks to me of its truth. While I am still me, I feel a subtle shift of awareness, a greater capacity to be present without being drawn into the alluring buzz of the constant “business” which I now see clearly to be more about preferring distraction than tending to matters at hand. I have the power to make better choices.
My neighbour Kandy, the very lady who drove up to me in early labour, presented me the day before I left for Madagascar with a quilt she made for me during her many days on bed rest. It is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, and she made it to thank me for guiding her towards a network of support during a time she and her husband Vince felt like they didn’t know how to manage navigating their birth experience through the challenging waters of our hospital system. They knew it would possibly be someone else attending their birth given I was going away, but their gratitude lay in my providing them with solid education and support, with or without me. On the back of the quilt, Kandy stitched a square which quotes Mahatma Gandhi, “If I have the belief that I can do it, I shall surely acquire the capacity to do it, even if I may not have it in the beginning.” So thanks to Kandy not only for the inspiration, but for the opportunity to exercise my power of wiser choice.
I am off to experience the sheer luxury of a hot shower. Then, I am going to tend to my home, grateful that I have one to tend to. Then, I am going to make a nice after school snack for my convalescing children, grateful to have the ability to do so, and grateful for well fed, strong immune systems which give them the ability to convalesce. We take these things for granted, yet where I have been lack of nourishment and ability to heal is a reality. I digress. One story at a time.
Veloma,
Lesley
by MotherWit | Aug 23, 2010 | Uncategorized
MotherWit Postpartum Doula Training
MotherWit Doula Care is pleased to present a comprehensive training in holistic postpartum doula care.
In a culture that puts a lot of pressure on new mothers to live up to the mythical image of SuperMom, a MotherWit Postpartum Doula has the power to bring a sane, calm perspective. We believe in nurturing the new mother so all she has to do in the precious few weeks after birth is focus on her new baby/babies and her loved ones.
Full healing of everything a woman has gone through during the childbearing year requires some space and reflection. By providing opportunities for rest and proper physical and emotional nourishment, the MotherWit Postpartum Doula creates a special space within which a woman who has just given birth and her partner can heal and come into their own power as a mother and father.
We like to call this space the BabyMoon.
As a MotherWit Postpartum Doula Trainee, you will learn the following:
good listening skills: new mothers need to share their birth stories and discuss the intense
emotions that becoming a mother brings up
proper physical and emotional care of the postpartum mother, with focus on nutrition and safe,
natural remedies to soothe a variety of common complaints, such as breast engorgement,perineal discomfort, fatigue, etc.
how to provide education about attachment style parenting, and give non judgmental support
for new parents’ choices
basic baby care such as bathing, diapering, baby-wearing, swaddling, etc.
how to provide basic breastfeeding support, and how to know when to call in a lactation consultant
how to recognize signs of postpartum depression
how to help with basic organization of a home with a new baby
how to support a mother with multiples, and how to engage older children
….and much much more!
This training will either be a 4 day intensive.
Cost:
$850.00 total -this is $700 for the 4 day training, plus $150 for your apprenticeship…all costs include
taxes.
MotherWit Doula Care looks forward to offering this training in Spring
For more info please contact info@MotherWit.ca
by MotherWit | Aug 19, 2010 | Uncategorized
Cours Prénataux MotherWit
Les Essentiels de la Naissance
Les cours prénataux Les Essentiels de la Naissance, offerts par
MotherWit Doula Care, visent à vous préparer à la naissance de
votre bébé, ou bébés, et à votre nouveau rôle de parents. Pour
obtenir de l’information sur l’accouchement, la majorité de futurs
parents participeront à des cours prénataux traditionnels donnés un
hôpital ou une clinique.
Ces cours ont tendance à présenter le travail comme un événement
qui suit un rythme prédéterminé, et décrivent la façon dont
l’hôpital prend en charge la mère et le bébé. L’emphase est mis sur
les chiffres (les contractions, la dilatation…) qui servent à
déterminer le progrès du travail ; la mère et l’expérience qu’elle est
en train de vivre sont des éléments secondaires. Il y a peu
d’instruction pratique pour doter les parents d’outils leur
permettant de faire face aux sensations du travail.
Les accompagnantes à la naissance sont de véritables mines d’or
d’informations à partager au sujet du travail et de l’accouchement.
Nous demeurons aux cotés de la mère pendant toute la durée de
son expérience, jusqu’à la naissance de son bébé. N’ayant aucune
responsabilité médicale vis à vis de nos clients, nous sommes
libres d’observer et de soutenir. Lors de nos observations, nous
avons appris beaucoup de choses à propos de l’accouchement que
vous ignorez peut-être, et nous observons même des choses avec
lesquelles le personnel médical a peu d’expérience. Par exemple,
comment soutenir effectivement une femme en travail sans la
péridurale. Chez les mères qui accouchent pour la première fois, le
taux de recours à la péridurale est de 98%. Ces chiffres ne sont pas
forcément représentatifs des désirs des couples par rapport à la
naissance de leur bébé. Souvent, une femme choisira la péridurale
car elle et son partenaire se sont sentis démunis face aux sensations
qui accompagnent le travail et n’étaient pas suffisamment pas
préparés à l’événement de par la simple lecture de livres sur le
sujet.
Il est de notre avis que les cours prénataux Les Essentiels de la
Naissance vous donneront les outils qui vous permettront de faire
des choix éclairés par rapport à cet événement si important. Plutôt
que de nous concentrer sur les “plans” de naissance, nous
encourageons une attitude ouverte et équilibrée afin de faire face
aux inattendus qui font partie de l’accouchement. Nous mettons
l’emphase sur la pertinence de l’observation et le besoin de
regarder la femme en travail versus la montre.
Les accompagnantes de MotherWit sont convaincues que la
plupart des femmes sont capables de mettre au monde leurs bébés
avec un minimum d’intervention à moins qu’une situation
particulière n’exige autrement. Nous souhaitons vous aider à
trouver votre sagesse intérieure, une sagesse qui a permis à des
milliers de générations de femmes d’accoucher. Nous prenons le
temps de discuter de vos soucis par rapport à la naissance, et de les
valider. Selon nous, la meilleure éducation consiste à présenter les
différents choix et à respecter les décisions que vous prenez avec
votre professionnel de la santé (médecin ou sage-femme). Bien
que notre objectif soit de vous donner la confiance d’accoucher
naturellement si vous le souhaitez, et si les circonstances en sont
favorables, nous soutenons pleinement vos propres choix.
Les cours prénataux MotherWit Les Essentiels de la Naissance
sont une série de cinq cours de deux heures et demie chacun qui
ont lieu le soir, une fois par semaine durant cinq semaines. Les
cours sont donnés par des accompagnantes à la naissance et aux
relevailles expérimentées. Les cours sont destinés aux femmes et
aux couples, peu importe leur situation. Une mère qui accouchera
sans la présence d’un partenaire peut venir avec une personne de
soutien si elle le désire. Le meilleur moment pour participer aux
cours prénataux est autour de la 25ième semaine de grossesse. Des
cours privés à domicile sont aussi disponibles (cours en format
condensé).
Coût pour les cours de groupe: 250$ par couple – 12.5 heures de
formation en groupe
Coût pour les cours privés (format condensé): 400$ par couple –
environs 8 heures de formation individuelle en trois séances (ou
deux séances intensives).
Tous les participants des cours prénataux MotherWit Les
Essentiels de la Naissance sont les bienvenus dans nos soirées de
rencontre MotherWit. Venez partager vos histoires de naissance,
rencontrer d’autres parents et découvrir les ressources de votre
communauté.
Descriptif des cours:
1er Cours: Votre Corps et l’Accouchement Normal
la naissance aujourd’hui, le reflet de notre culture
nourrir le corps et l’esprit pendant la grossesse
anatomie et physiologie de l’accouchement
les signes annonciateurs du travail
le travail – à quoi ça ressemble, qu’est-ce qu’on ressent ?
mettre au monde votre bébé
le rôle du partenaire
2ème Cours: Faire des Choix
quoi apporter au lieu de naissance prévu ?
quand partir pour le lieu de naissance prévu ?
une fois arrivée, que se passe-t-il ?
procédures médicales de routine et interventions pendant
l’accouchement: les avantages, les risques, les alternatives
défis rencontrés lors du travail et de l’accouchement
3ème Cours: Comment Agir Face à Votre Travail
ne pas vous préparer à la réalité de la douleur, une piège à
éviter
la valeur inestimable de la douleur normale du travail
comment gérer vos attentes
comment déterminer le moyen par lequel vous arrivez à passer
à travers la douleur
affrontez la douleur du travail avec la respiration, la
visualisation, le mouvement, l’alimentation, le repos et les
changements de position
encourager un positionnement optimal du foetus
4ème Cours: La Douleur (suite), Préparation Émotionnelle au
Travail, Fondements de l’Allaitement Maternel
la théorie du portillon (Gate Theory of Pain Inhibition) mis en
pratique – massage de la mère
encourager la détente
les femmes enceintes: exploration de vos craintes par rapport
à l’accouchement avec la visualisation guidée et l’art
partenaires: quelles sont vos craintes ?
jeux de rôle
l’allaitement mené par la demande du bébé
5ème Cours: L’Allaitement (suite), la Période Postpartum, le
Rôle de Parent
défis fréquents de l’allaitement et comment dépister un
problème
la famille pendant le période postpartum
questions fréquentes sur les nouveau-nés
un entourage qui prend soin de vous
Les cours débuteront le lundi 13 septembre à 19h00 chez Materni-T, 3289 Saint-Jacques O, Montréal de 19h00 à 21h30. Pour plus d’informations, appelez-nous au 514-569-5878
info@MotherWit.ca
by MotherWit | Aug 18, 2010 | Uncategorized
Finally, this trip to Madagascar I’ve been dreaming of for a few years is just on the horizon. The itinerary is solidified, the workshops on keeping oneself and one’s environment healthy, family planning, breastfeeding, and training for midwives are being worked on, the last of the midwifery equipment and supplies are going to be bought on Friday, and updates on the political situation in Tana, the capital, being given to us by our friends (Karen and Mitch) there. Karen, who came up with the idea for this event, as well as planned and coordinated the entire thing in between tandem nursing, teaching university, and doing hardcore paleontology expeditions on the beaches and in the forests of Madagascar, not to mention planning a move to Australia (did I mention Karen and her husband Mitch are some of the most remarkable people ever?), has been in Madagascar the past few months and has let me know that the women and midwives of the Taratra group are excited for our arrival. This, of course, just stokes my own excitement.
I have my raincoat, camping mattress, back pack, warm sleeping bag (it gets to freezing at night there this time of year), and every homeopathic diarrhea remedy known to man. I’ve had my hepatitis A shot, and was very kindly given some malaria pills by my fellow MotherWittie Steph who had some left over from her travels in Africa. Every available bit of free space we (Sarah and Deborah, the other Canadian members of Taratra) have will be packed up with warm clothes to give away to children and adults in Mahatsinjo, the area in which we’ll be spending most of our time. We have also had a request for Elizabeth Taylor perfume (not sure for whom, but hey, everyone should have some something fancy to feel good, even if they live or work in a rain forest) and dental floss. We’re also bringing some bubbles for the kids there to blow (apparently they LOVE blowing bubbles, and it’s a real treat), and a couple of soccer balls (deflated, of course) for the kids to play with.
I know that when we get there (after a flight to Paris, a layover for a few hours, then a 10 hour flight to Madagascar), we will be met by Karen and Mitch and go to the house they rent just outside of the capital. The next day, we will drive for several hours as far as a car can take us to our destination, then probably hike a couple of hours to the site. If the weather allows, we will go visit some lemurs, and be introduced to the four midwives. The next few days will be spent holding workshops, taking down some data, getting a sense of what is wanted/needed and the best way to help, hopefully creating an infrastructure for easy follow up and future visits. Back in the capital, we’ll scour the souvenir market, and Sarah and I will be hunting down tons of essential oils (Madagascar is famous for their amazing oils) and interesting homeopathic remedies. We’ll have dinner with Mitch and Karen at their favourite Chinese restaurant, then we’ll grab our flight home.
Sarah, Deb, and I decided to pay for a 24 hour stopover in Paris, another place I’ve never been. Our plan is just to walk around the entire time and soak it all in. If we’re stopping there anyway, we might as well travel ’til that travel bug is spent. Then we’ll come home.
I am beside myself with excitement for the entire experience, but there are a few things in particular which fill me with the most anticipation. One, is the knowledge that I’ll get to sit around and chit chat with the Malagasy midwives (with the help of an interpreter). If all the midwives speak a bit of French, we can get by with that, but if not, we’ll need help communicating with each other. These ladies have attended TONS of births, all at home, obviously, and I can only imagine what kind of knowledge they have. They have asked for some hands on technical training for difficult situations, as well as for some basic information that will help them immensely in their work. It definitely feels good to be able to contribute to that. But I know I’m going to be awestruck by these Rainforest midwives and many aspects of their customs, beliefs, and intuitions surrounding the birth process. I can only imagine the inventive things these women have come up with in challenging situations. My sense is that they probably have some pretty amazingly developed motherwit. One of the midwives Karen has told me about is named Ratine. She is a tiny lady who is a total hoot. She literally collapses onto the ground with laughter. Ah, midwives…they are probably riot grrrls everywhere you go.
Another thing I am looking forward to is the newness of this experience. I have never done anything remotely like this. My family is a little worried about me, worried that something might happen and I’ll be so far away from “civilization”. But to be honest, when I think of my being on the edge of the Rainforest in the depths of Madagascar, I don’t feel afraid. Truly, the thing I’m most afraid of is a bad stomach. But even if that does happen, I’ll be okay. We will have some Cipro available if things get out of control, and there is apparently a really good first aid kit in the camp to treat infections, some injuries, and stomach bugs. Deb is a family doctor, so I figure her knowledge and skills will be a great resource if anyone is sick or hurt (providing it isn’t her). In an area as truly remote as this, probably nobody is going to get hit by a car, be a victim of a crime, or fall out of a window. There are apparently no major poisonous creepy crawlies to worry about, and there are no man eating predators around, so unless there’s some kind of lemur uprising, I think we’re good. If there is a major emergency, there is a satellite phone at the camp. Karen and Mitch bring their young daughters there, and all feel very healthy and strong when they spend months at the camp, eating simple rice, beans, veggies, and whatever fruit is in season, and getting a lot of exercise, fresh air, and rest. Getting a break from city noise and electricity is pretty healing too.
I am SO happy to be going with friends. Sarah and I are close. We are friends who have attended each others’ births and have attended some seriously far out, crazy, intense and amazing births together. You’re pretty much sisters at that point. I have been a doula for quite a few of Deborah’s patients, and I feel we have absolutely glorious birth team chemistry. The more I’ve had the opportunity to hang out with her as we prepare for the trip, the more I see what a generous, compassionate, smart, funny lady she is. When Karen asked for my help in choosing a doctor for our team, she was the first I thought of, and she agreed right away when I asked her. She clicked easily with Karen, Sarah, and me, and I am just so happy she’s on board. I have attended the births of Karen and Mitch’s daughters, and I have loved them since the first time I met them. So while we all be doing important work, it will be immensely fun too. Knowing I can announce, “Oh, man, stop the hike for a sec, I think I have the runs!” or sniffle because I’m missing my husband, kids, and dog so much, and that there will be support and good humour, makes me feel very safe indeed.
But I think what stands out in my dreams of Madagascar the most right now is the sky. I can only imagine looking up at that sky at night, miles and miles away from any electricity and major roads, and being able to see STARS. I can’t fathom the profound, car-less, electrical hum-less silence that must exist in the space between and surround the night sounds of the forest. I cannot even conceive of the smells of the air and the earth.
If you’d like to read more about Karen and Mitch’s work in Madagascar, and/or would like to make a donation to Sadabe, please visit www.sadabe.org
I promise, Friends, to take as many photos as possible and blog whenever I can, though it probably won’t be until I get home.
MotherWitties Millie and Steph are going to meet next week to conceive of a grant request for us MotherWit doulas to one day go to Peru, where Millie’s brother is a neonatologist. Millie is passionate about learning about the birthing culture and experiences of the women there (Millie being of Peruvian descent) and facilitating an expedition for us to learn and to teach. She relayed a scene her brother witnessed of a traditional midwife holding a woman in a supported squat. The midwife was vocalizing very harshly and strongly. The birthing woman would respond in a big yell. Back and forth they shouted. To Millie’s brother, it looked as if the midwife was yelling violently at the lady in her care. But the baby emerged gently. When the midwife was asked, “Why were you yelling like that?” she answered, “I was healing that woman!” This midwife was very connected to the emotional pain the birthing woman had experienced in her life, especially aware of the energy of the pain surrounding the death of the woman’s mother. The midwife was yelling for all the tension to dissipate. And it worked. She was probably very aware of the vibrations of her tones and where they would resonate in the woman’s body, and that the ferocity of her sounds gave the woman permission and strength to release. This story was so powerful to me. Women who work with birth are so rich in amazing knowledge that I feel insatiable in my desire to learn from them.
As doulas, we are committed to reconnecting women to and supporting their motherwit. Having the opportunity to go to different lands and learn from other birth attendants gives us new and wider perspective, allowing us to bring so much back to help heal this culture. And our knowledge of the really positive aspects of birth in this culture can help others in theirs too.
Blessings to birth attending sisters everywhere. Blessings to the midwives under the Malagasy sky. Blessings to the Peruvian birth healing women. Blessings to my doula sister Rivka in Italy. Blessings to my doula friends in New Brunswick. Blessing to my doula students past and present, scattered around the globe (from Portland USA to Benin Africa). Blessings to my Facebook doula buddies from near and far. Love to all of you everywhere.
I will be back in mid September with lots of stories to tell. Stay tuned, and be well.
Lesley
The lady on the far left with the curly hair is Sarah Roberts, who just returned from Mahatsinjo where she hung out with Karen and her family, and spent her days facilitating games, fun activities, and educational opportunities for the area’s many children. The lady with the baby in red is my friend Sarah, who is a US trained birth attendant who practices in Texas. The next lady with the child is Karen. The two ladies at the end are Marie-Maude and Renee, owners and operators of Melons and Clementines. They were kind enough to let us use their lovely space to hold our silent auction to raise funds for our project. And the two small people in front are Deborah (in pink) and me. We are bending our knees a little, but yes, we are teeny. So now that you have an image of us, send us prayers for a safe and fruitful trip. Thanks!
