That result led me to ask how many parents there are in the world, because naturally I wondered if maybe there is perhaps, an unadvertised goal of one website per X number of parents. After that, I wondered where everyone got their advice in 1814 and 1914 before 21,300,000 options were at our fingertips.
Sadly, the world doesn't keep track of its parents, but I found this highly reliable resource...
Statistics show that there are 82.5 million mothers and 66.3 million fathers in the United States. This brings the total number of parents in the United States to approximately 148.8 million.
Clearly, I am working with hard facts and unimpeachable statistics.
I question what happened to 16 million USA fathers, but that is a blog post for another day.
* * *
Today there are 230,001 parenting blogs. I figure I am a grandparent now, certainly that automatically means I have reached a level of experience in parenting that creates an obligation for me to share my vast knowledge. (Read: sarcasm)
Something about being here in the USA with my adult children and missing my five at home has me in a weird space of introspection. It is a place of grieving what is gone while examining what I have learned and anticipating what lies ahead. It is a cacophonous space.
Today I had lunch with a friend and we traded tales and woes of the middle place, where we both reside. I said something close to this- 'I just feel like if we learn as we go and I have learned things through my mistakes with the first few kids, certainly by the time the seventh one hits her stride we will know every mistake and pitfall and she should be raised mistake free. Yes?' Am I right?
*** *** *** ***
When we parent our little kids along side our friends and community, we like to sit around discussing how to help them not be jack-asses. We compare stories about tantrums and pontificate about which foods seem to make monsters of them. It is pretty easy to find agreement and comaraderie when it comes to raising little kids.
Oftentimes we will laugh together at the hilarious things 5-year-old kids say. We confess to one another when we had a bad day, those days when we just weren't patient enough with the toddlers or the hormonal pre-teens. We create safe, encouraging spaces on line and in person to share the ups and downs of parenting little people.
As our kids get older, the circle of sharing grows smaller. We talk less and less about what is hard or funny or wonderful or terrible about parenting. For multiple reasons, it is more difficult to find parents that will discuss their pregnant teenager, or their binge drinking college kid, or their changing and sometimes strained relationships with their adult children. There is way less encouraging one another and far less sharing.
It isn't that most people with older kids have perfect trouble-free kids. It isn't that we have lost our friends. It is that most people with older kids don't know if it is safe to be vulnerable about these more consequential years. Older kids that are struggling strike greater fear in us. Maybe it's that we are embarrassed that we don't really what we are doing.
Raising kids is hard.
If we are managing an out of control five year old, we can talk about it because - Well, because he is five. There is time. It'll get easier, we think to ourselves. However, if we are managing an insolent 22 year old, it is rarely shared.
Before I go too far, please know this isn't a post about troubled kids. I don't actually think the Internet is the best place to discuss that. I do think that one of the more encouraging things is coming to realize we are not alone in our struggles. It always helps to find out someone else struggles or feels uncertain in the same areas.
This is a post about how we parent older kids (and let go of control) and it is a post about vulnerability and finding what we all have in common. It is about grace and do-overs. It is about second chances and, forgiveness. It is about there always being time.
Our core group of friends our age are mainly handling grade school and younger kids, a few of them are just entering into the teen years with their oldest kids. Of course, we are there with them in that. We have early teens and our last two little primary school divas. The only place we find ourselves the oddballs in child rearing, is this place of having adult children with significant others - and now even children of their own.
Apparently if you have a child or two really young and your friends don't also start a family young, it follows that you will have kids moving out of the house and getting married when your friends don't. This was a shocking revelation for me.
There are things about parenting older children that nobody really tells you. I am not sure why. I have a lengthy list of the things I did not know, but here are a few of the bigger ones:
- It is scary, the mistakes feel more costly and long reaching
- Older kids doesn't equal an easier parenting gig - the job doesn't stop feeling big or even daunting because they grown up
- "I'm sorry" is an important two-word phrase to memorize
- There is still time, even though it doesn't feel like it
- We change -They change (or at least if we do, we can hope they will)
The ways in which you handled disobedience don't so much serve as viable options any longer. I would venture to guess that for all parents, there will come a point when the adult child will do something you have asked them not to do. As a parent, you have to choose how you will respond. At five and ten and even fifteen years of age, it is a fairly straightforward how you handle being ignored. At 18 and 22, it is less so. There are no time outs for young adults.
How are a mother or father to act/respond when they disagree with decisions their newly adult children make?
We made some pretty large mistakes six years ago when our oldest daughter announced her engagement to be married. To us it felt very quick and we feared she was too young and things had moved too fast. I flipped out. I was afraid. Long story short, Troy and I made some fear-based decisions and because we were afraid we did not give our immediate blessing. (Although, we came around in time.) We made choices and asked things of them that caused our relationship harm. All of our reactions were still based in love and concern (with a large dollop of fear), but they did not necessarily land as love and concern.
When our second child started going through a difficult season people were so kind to us and commented about how gracious we were acting. It made me uncomfortable because they did not see the entire picture and they did not know about our past mistakes that directly led us to be better equipped to respond more graciously to child number two.
Like C.S. Lewis said, "Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn."
To our great delight, time and cautious attention to the mess-ups in our parenting careers seem to bring healing. When I wrote a letter to my grandson, I shared with him one thing I have learned; nothing is ever quite as bad as it seems right in the beginning. Time brings clarity. Time brings healing. There is still time.
I have long since changed this misconception of mine, but I always assumed that parenting adults would be easier and that the hardest parts were over once you got through that hormonal stage of 11 to 14 years of age. I don't want to bring you all bad news, but it doesn't necessarily get easier. I am sorry, but that is truth. The good news is this: there is time. If we, as parents, are committed to growth and change, it follows that we can be hopeful that our relationships will grow and change with our kids as they grow and change too. "I am sorry, I was afraid, can you forgive me for responding with fear?" can and does go a long way.
Our kids will (and should) make their own choices and sometimes choose to ignore our words of caution or wisdom. We will be forced to decide if we keep harping on things and draw hard lines, or decide that stating our hopes and desires once or twice with clarity is enough.
Someone recently asked how I could "condone” something that my child decided to do. I said, "Well, I told her how I felt and what I thought was a wise choice and she decided not to do what I suggested. If I keep loving her and speaking to her and pursuing relationship does that equal condoning to you?" (It did to that particular person.)
This line we try to draw troubles me. The definition of condone is, to forgive or approve (something that is considered wrong) : to allow (something that is considered wrong) to continue.
I want to suggest that love and pursuing relationship doesn't really mean approving of everything someone chooses. I can dislike a choice they made but still pursue them wholeheartedly. Withdrawing relationship (or love) because I don't approve is not my answer. I want to suggest that at some point it is not up to me to allow or disallow anything anymore.
If we are raising kids to eventually be autonomous, (that is the point, yes?) the natural progression of things will mean they start making choices that don't seek or require our approval.
When a six year old is told "Don't eat that whole bag of candy", and they still do it (maybe many times over the course of a few months) and you keep loving them, speaking to them, spending time with them, we would never say we are "condoning eating a whole bag of candy" because we kept loving.
I don't know if I will find agreement here, or how many of you reading have older kids, but I think the roughest part of the whole transition happens during the first year or two after the kids move out from under our roof. Literally overnight parents have to figure out how to be the right amount of involved and gauge the right amount of advice and caution to give. I have not found this to be easy. It feels like uncharted territory to me and I know I have erred on both sides, too much advice, and too little input.
As our kids all get older and start to test their own decision making power and even begin to choose differently than we want at times, there will be times we can't win an argument or will not get our kids to see it our way. It feels strange at first. Who is this person with differing thoughts of his own?!?!??? It is odd to realize we are not the boss anymore.
In those times I find it is important for me to remember that winning an argument should not really be my ultimate goal. When Jesus came up against difficult things, he couldn't have cared less about winning the argument. He preferred to make space for grace. When we make space for grace with our kids they will make space for grace for us too. I don't know much, but I know there is nothing I need more than grace.
Thank you, Brittany, Christopher, Paige, Michael, Isaac, Hope, Noah, Phoebe, and Lydia for being my grace teachers. I sit under your tutelege with gratitude for all you continue to teach us.
Even with that sketchy non-plan plan, I can say unequivocally that so far it seems like I "should" stay. It is hard uncomfortable to feel like I'm not doing my part at home with the other five kids and not doing my part at the Maternity Center, and I miss both places terribly -- but it seems to me that the timing of being here now is more than providential.
I have been here for almost three weeks and it appears like I will stay another two weeks.
I am staying at the house of the Carney Family, (the Carn-dogs) - they are the quirky landlords that P and M rent the garage apartment from in this season of much transition.
Landlord is a weird word.
I like the Carney family a lot. Long before I had met them I knew that they had some Minnesota ties and a few common friends/acquaintances and I had decided they were the sort of people that Paige should know. I had heard Josh (the Dad Carn-dog) preach and liked his style. When they ended up having an apartment for rent, I played it reeeeaaaal cool while simultaneously trying to manipulate everything. It is how we mothers do. Who, me? Trying to tell you what place to live? nooooooo. i never!
Being in their home is wonderful because they have four kids and it is chaos and I am comfortable with that. They have one little pistol that sometimes melts all the way down, and I feel so much closer to Lydia just listening to her from my attic bedroom at night. Their 6 year old was telling me that she needed her fan on high at night to sleep. She asked if my kids like to have a fan to sleep. I said, "they must have a fan to sleep most of the time because it is very hot in Haiti and we don't have air conditioning." She looked at me with eyes widened and with sincere incredulous shock she said, "What?!?! EVERYONE should have air conditioning!" This is a girl all of Haiti needs in their corner.
Troy stopped in to Dallas/Waco/Austin on days 10 to 16 of my time away from Haiti and made us all giddy happy. He of course is needed at home with the kids and the work at Heartline, but the trip came at an excellent time for all of us girls. I don't know which of us was most excited. I bet he could get pretty darn used to that kind of fanfare over his arrival. He could, but he shouldn't. He is now back in Haiti with the little kids and they all report that things are well.
I am also jetting up to Dallas here and there to spend time with my favorite PA student and her adorable chef husband. Their new house is cozy and inviting. He whips up fancy food and clears my plate (wha????) and she memorizes words that have far too many letters in them and cannot be pronounced by the vast majority of us. I love getting to be with them a little bit during this time, and I feel God's mercy in the time we have had together.
There's more than a new baby and postpartum hormones going on in Waco. We've been trying to get insurance to pay out for the totaled car. Of course insurance has a goal of never paying or paying sllllllllowwwwwwllly. They must think you'll give up and go away or something.
I've been car shopping a little in between the other dramas. Troy sends me the listings, tells me what questions to ask. I message our friend Tex for last minute coaching, then off I go.
Today I faked like a boss at a gas station when I opened the hood of the 2004 CRV I was test driving - and by faked like a boss I mean, an awesome old guy asked me if I needed help and I told him, yes, I most certainly did need help finding the dipstick to check the oil. After that test drive I asked things about timing belts and pretended tp know what that even means.
Last week Michael had a full physical for a job he had been offered. During the course of the routine tests (that led to follow ups and specialists) he was diagnosed with WPW Syndrome (a heart arrhythmia that is found in 1 in 1,000 people) and he will need an ablation surgery to repair his heart. He is scheduled to do that late next week.
Then, Paige got sick (common postpartum breast infection called Mastitis) quickly on Sunday night. She was a hot mess today, we're hopeful it turns around quickly. They are working through a lot at once, those physical things being just one piece of it all.
The little family of three needs to be boring now. We're all tired of the action. At some point we have a lot of wedding things to do, but for now other pressing things need our immediate attention.
I found this prayer on Sunday when I was trying to look up something the pastor at All Saints Dallas (I went there with Britt and Chris) had said on Sunday. Never found what I was looking for, but I did find this ...
“May today there be peace within.May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.May you be content knowing you are a child of God.Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.It is there for each and every one of us.”― Teresa of Ávila
Both girls were a tiny bit emotional when Troy arrived.
Troy and Michael did some manly wedding shopping.
Troy, and the three of us he got in a package deal (plus Graham-son)
Dallas Kids ~ fancy food, fancy words
Insta-Graham ~ no such thing as too much of this guy...
and, a link to the photos that Kimberly Ellis took of the little family on Saturday.
By: Ani smrt diktátora Duvaliera, známého jako „Baby Doc“, nepřináší Haiťanům klid · Global Voices v češtině
[…] ničivém haitském zemětřesení z roku 2010 došlo ke kontroverznímu návratu “Baby Doca” z exilu. Navzdory obviněním z korupce […]
[…] Haiti's devastating earthquake of 2010, “Baby Doc” controversially returned from exile. Despite charges made against him for […]
President Michel Martelly and Prime Minister Laurent Lamothe have decided to dramatically raise government-fixed fuel prices in Haiti over the next six months despite the plummeting price of oil on the world market and the Haitian Senate’s refusal to approve their budget for the 2014-2015 fiscal year. The price hikes, announced by Finance Minister Marie Carmelle Jean-Marie, took effect on Oct. 10, 2014 and will rise in three or four increments. According to the proposed budget still not approved by the Senate, a gallon of gasoline will rise from its current cost of $4.38 (200 gourdes) to $4.70 (215 gourdes) until December; in January 2015, it would jump to $4.99 (228 gourdes); finally, during February and March 2015, it would be set at $5.32 (243 gourdes) a gallon, a 21.5% increase overall. A gallon of diesel over the same time period would increase from $3.54 (162 gourdes) to $3.87 (177 gourdes) to $4.03 (184 gourdes) and finally to $4.20 (192 gourdes) in March 2015, an 18.5% increase. Kerosene will rise from $3.52 (161 gourdes) a gallon to $3.74 (171 gourdes) to $3.92 (179 gourdes) to $4.05 (185 gourdes) in March 2015, a price hike of 14.9%. Taken all together, the Haitian government will raise the fixed price of fuel on average 18.3% over the next six months, although the price for a barrel of oil has fallen from $104 a barrel in June to about $81 a barrel today. Ironically, since 2008, Venezuela meets most of Haiti’s petroleum needs under the PetroCaribe contract, whereby Haiti pays about 60% of its oil bill up front, while the remaining 40% can be paid over 25 years at 1% interest. Despite this advantageous deal, the Martelly/Lamothe government, rather than passing on the savings, is in effect taxing the Haitian people to raise revenues to fund their corruption and profligate ways. In general, the fuel price hike will further impoverish the Haitian people and degrade Haiti’s environment. Already, 70% of the population lives in extreme poverty; 75% to 80% are in the chronic and endemic unemployment; minimum wage workers earn less than $120 a month working 40 hour weeks; and more than five million Haitians, half the population, are food insecure. All indicators of the Haitian Institute of Statistics and Information (IHSI) show the cost of household food basket is increasing. The rise in petroleum prices will be a heavy burden for the Haitian masses, who already live in abject poverty. The soaring cost of petroleum-based fuels will force many people to turn to lower cost charbon, which is charcoal made from trees. This will accelerate deforestation in a country which has already lost more than 98% of its forests, resulting in desertification, erosion, and flooding, particularly of poor urban neighborhoods as happened recently in Cité Soleil as well as Tabarre. The cost of transit on Haiti’s colorful tap taps, taxis, and buses, fixed by the government, will also rise. The public transport drivers’ union is already preparing a protest against the government’s fare hikes. Ironically, in 2003, as the U.S. government (with the support of the then konpa singer Michel “Sweet Micky” Martelly) was fomenting a coup d’état against the government of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, the cost of gas was about 60 gourdes to 70 gourdes a gallon. There was not yet any cheap PetroCaribe oil flowing into Haiti. But the Haitian government subsidized the price of gas to alleviate the misery of the masses. Today, the forces which collaborated in the 2004 coup d’état are in power and the cost of living in Haiti has quintupled. People are living in increasingly desperate poverty and fleeing the country in record numbers to seek work elsewhere. Senator François Annick Joseph of the Artibonite, who is with the Organization of People in Struggle (OPL), says that the Martelly/Lamothe government has no concern for the population. He has called on Venezuela to revise the PetroCaribe agreement so that the funds generated by it are not misused by the government, whose officials are merely enriching themselves at the population’s expense.
“Shake up this government,” he recently advised the Haitian people. “Shake it up until it falls down.”
(Friday after a brisk walk.)
(Saturday at 3pm BU vs TCU game.)
Graham Porter Gonzales made a decision to leave the dark warmth and relative ease of his Mother’s womb on Saturday evening.
He must have weighed all his options and decided that adventure was better than predictability, that excitement beats monotony, that spontaneity and whimsy make life so much more interesting.
In reviewing his particular method of joining us on the outside, we think perhaps he felt the need, the need for speed.
Lest you prefer not to read an entire birth story, and you simply need the stats, let me tell you the end first.
Graham Porter Gonzales appeared on the scene October 11, 2014 at 9:56pm, weighing in at a fighting weight of 7 pounds 9 ounces with an impressive 20.25” of vertical giftedness.
His Mother was there for the event, his Father was too. Additional members of his team were his Aunt Britt, his Mojo (me), two midwives Betsy and Terry, as well as a student midwife.
For some, birth stories are too much. People get all squirmy and uncomfortable talking about body parts and bodily fluids. It is almost as if talking about it is what makes it gross. We (Paige and I) understand that and we ask you to exit the blog at this time because we both do birth stories right. There are details coming.
For the rest of us that like birth stories, well...…We think that everyone was once born and because that is true (can we get agreement here?) we all have our very own fluid filled beginnings and that is just the simple messy truth of it.
Our conclusion is this: Birth is beautiful and MIRACULOUS while simultaneously being more than a bit humbling and so very equalizing. Nobody gets out of it without at least some excrement or slimy fluid.
Like Forest Gump said, shit happens.
~ ~ ~
This birth story is going to begin a little sooner than some. Let us return to mid September of 2014 in order to record a few facts.
(Let us also switch to a third-person narrative for a few paragraphs.)
Paige was having some concerning blood pressure issues. Lab work, consultations, prayers, and careful watching became a part of the pregnancy around week thirty-seven.
There were already tickets booked for Mojo from Haiti to Texas on October 14, but something in Mojo’s heart said that the ticket needed to be sooner. The ticket was switched to the 8thof October. Mojo kept praying (andwriting) and feeling nervy. Paige kept resting, eating protein and monitoring her blood pressure.
For whatever reason, Mojo couldn’t shake a bit of fear and trepidation. She felt like something wasn’t going to be okay, she worried and told a friend she kind of felt like Paige would end up with a hospital birth situation. Mojo called American Airlines and changed her ticket to the 7th of October. Paige and Britt thought she was dumb, because what’s one day?
The morning of the 7th, Mojo felt uneasy and afraid. She told two friends that prayed with her. On the ride to the airport at 2pm Haiti time she told Tito, “I feel like something isn’t right with Paige and Graham.”
Mojo left Haiti on a 3:44pm flight on October 7th. As Mojo powered down her phone to leave the island, Paige and Graham(son) were in a car accident on their way home from work. Mojo landed in Miami 90 minutes later to see the photograph posted at the end of this blog entry. The accident happened outside of Waco and was a hit and run. The driver has since been caught.
Paige and Graham went to a local hospital to be monitored and checked out. Midwife Betsy and Daddy Michael were also at the hospital. After four hours they were determined to be 100% healthy and unharmed. They were discharged. Mojo boarded her next flight to Dallas knowing they were okay and heading home to rest.
~ ~ ~
The Rest of the Story
On Thursday Paige and I addressed and mailed wedding invitations.
On Friday we decided to head to Dallas to be with Britt and Chris (Paige’s older sister and brother-in-law) because Michael had to work long shifts on Friday and Saturday. Paige talked a lot about wishing she could go into labor and wondered how could we make that happen. On the ride to Dallas she voxed with midwife KJ in Haiti, asking why we disagreed with trying Castor Oil. KJ gave Paige the exact answer I gave, much to Paige’s disappointment.
Once to Dallas, Britt and I took Paige on a brisk 30-minute walk. Britt fed us a delicious lasagna dinner. After dinner we tried tricks we learned on the medically trusted and truly professional website called "YouTube". We practiced pushing on pressure points in Paige’s legs and feet for an hour.
By 11pm a storm knocked out the power at Chris and Britt’s house so we decided to pretend we were in Haiti and head to bed. The power returned in the middle of the night. The four of us all woke up rested after a great ten hours of sleep.
Britt took off for a long run around 10am. Paige asked me to strip her membranes. (Google that if you need more Intel.) Afterward we decided another brisk walk couldn’t hurt anything.
We walked/pseudo jogged for 20 minutes. We returned to the house and showered quickly to head south to a Baylor vs. TCU football game. (Sic Em Bears!) During the drive down to Waco Paige started having contractions. She downloaded a contraction app and began timing them. By the time we got seated at the game her contractions were coming regularly. Paige enjoyed 15 minutes of the game before things got more painful and from then on she simply tolerated the game. (See photo of enjoyment. See video of toleration.) She had 50 contractions while we were at the game.
During the beginning of the fourth quarter, Baylor acted like they did not want to win. Paige asked to leave, we happily obliged. On the walk back to the car the contractions were bad enough that Paige needed to stop walking and talking during them.
We arrived back at Paige’s apartment at 6:30 and checked Paige’s progress. We found that she was 5cm dilated. Paige decided to lie down for a bit while we waited for Michael to get home from work so we could head to the birth center.
Michael ran into post Baylor game traffic (and a surprise end of the game win for BU). It took a lot longer than usual for him to get home. He walked in at 7:40pm about the same time that Chris delivered dinner to those of us not in active labor.
While Michael got changed Britt and I finished our cleaning in the apartment and put the last items in the bag to be ready to leave after Michael ate his dinner.
Right then, Paige started throwing up. To the midwife, that was a little concerning because it did not seem like throw up time quite yet. (Vomiting is a sign of transition and often means that dilation is 7cm or more.) I said with my fake-it-till-you-make-it calm voice, “You guys, we should probably get going”.
Paige asked to be checked. When she was in fact 7cm - we all moved out with urgency. At exactly 8:18pm we left the driveway with Britt behind the wheel of the loaner Tahoe we were (are) using due to the accident. Chris headed to Dallas to pick up Paige’s best friend Julia, who was to land at DFW at 11pm.
We intended to drive 57 miles to the birth center in a somewhat calmish fashion.
We drove about 10ish miles before Paige started throwing up again. She said, “Mom, it hurts so bad and I cannot do this. Make it stop, make it stop, Mom.” Britt and I both let a few tears go over that sad pleading that we could do nothing about.
At that point I thought, ‘Well, a baby in the truck is not part of the plan. Dammit.’ I asked Britt to pull off the road to dump out the puke bowl and move people around in the truck. Up to that point Michael, Paige, and the car seat were in the second row and I was in the front with Britt. The back of the truck had our bags and belongings.
Pulling off of Interstate 35 proved to be difficult because we were in a construction zone and not near an exit. Britt did super-ninja driving tricks and got it done. When the truck finally came to a stop Paige shocked us to our senses when she yelled, GET OUT MICHAEL!”
I dumped the puke and started to organize and unpack KJ’s birth bag. I found some key items (gloves, Doppler, instruments, etc.) while Paige got out of the truck and kneeled (“full on hands and knees on the side of the road” to quote Paige) on the shoulder of the road.
Paige said, “Mom, I think my water broke while I was puking.” (That turned out to be urine, not ruptured membranes.) I hurried faster to arrange the back of the truck and move the other stuff forward. While I was doing that Paige said, “Mom, I have to poop, is it okay if I do?” It was then that I thought, “Oh man. We are not having a birth center birth.” However, I said, “We can make it to the birth center, guys. We can make it!”
I told Paige not to poop or push - that she was feeling Graham’s head.
Paige got into the back of the truck and rested on her left side. I sat in the corner at her feet. Michael stayed in the second row, turned back toward us. Mercifully, she got a bit of a lull in the contractions, they slowed down.
Britt decided to drive with the hazards flashing and she turned on the intensity. We were still 40 minutes away. We prayed out loud for the Lord to see the hot mess that we had going on and slow Paige the heck down.
When Paige’s next contraction came we asked her to try hard not to push, it was obvious that she was complete (that means 10cm – that means business) and had an urge to push. Michael put his finger in front of her face to blow out as if it was a candle. That worked for two contractions. On the third contraction Paige tried to bite Michael’s finger then swatted wildly at him, like an angry bear. We decided at that point our candle would need to be invisible.
I laughed (silently) until tears were running down my face. Michael rolled with it and checked to make sure all ten digits were in tact.
The contractions were very strong; they were coming every six minutes. Paige was the champion of the world. She did so well and kept from pushing as absolutely best as can be expected. We had a clean chux pad underneath her and a roll of paper towel. It is possible that some paper towels with excrement on them left the car window at speeds of 75 miles per hour. Luckily, we were the only ones on the road at that point. During one of the contractions her water broke and was delivered in a perfect water balloon into my hands. (We spared you some photos.)
In review, there was vomit, urine, poo, and amniotic fluid on that ride. The only thing left to do was have a baby.
As we pulled into Cleburne I said, “I see the head Michael.” I told Paige, “You will not want to get up and walk, it will hurt, but you are going to get up and go into that birth center to have your baby.”
At 9:40 we arrived at Edenway Birth Center. The midwife on staff there met us in the driveway. I offered to wrap Paige’s bottom half up in a blanket (she had ditched her gym shorts) – but Paige was in the zone and marched right inside, sans blanket. She went straight to the bed to lie down.
Paige’s “birth plan” did not include anything that had happened up to that point, so when Terry the Edenway midwife said, “We have a warm bath drawn if you’d like to get in there for a few contractions”, of course Paige got up and marched to the bathtub.
Paige had always thought (and expressed to me) that water birth was weird, bordering on gross. She had no intention of having a water birth --that is -- until she had a water birth.
Paige did not want to get back out of the tub so when she needed to push with the next contraction, she pushed. Betsy, her primary midwife had arrived while she was getting settled in the water.
Betsy and I coached Paige. As he was crowning and not retracting back at all, Paige incredulously said, “I don’t get a break? I don’t get a break any more?” We had to inform her that there were no breaks in her long-range future.
To that news she simply said, “Holy cow.”
The next contraction came and Paige pushed with a lot of control and the head was born. Paige said, “I did that!” Brittany was filming and she laughed through her tears and said, “You did!”
(For the midwives in the crowd, he was born OA and he did not fully restitute.)
Two and a half minutes later, exactly 16 minutes after we had arrived at the birth center, Paige had one more contraction and delivered her son into his thrilled/nervous/excited Mojo’s hands in the warm water. I
I untangled his cord and lifted him out of the water to place him on his mommy’s chest. Paige looked at Graham and said, “We did it, we did it together!”
Graham was a bit of a slow starter. His heart rate was great but breathing took some coaxing. Betsy and I both gave him some inflation breaths (Betsy first) and he finally began to sputter a bit and started to get pink.
By 17 minutes postpartum, Graham was latched and nursing in the bathtub, showing us what a brilliant little man he is.
Paige and Michael experienced 7:40pm to 9:56pm of labor/pushing together.
Michael kept his fingers.
Britt kept her cool on an intense 80+ minute ride.
Mojo kept it together and shed tears of nervousness, laughter, empathy and joy.
Graham stayed strong and had wonderful heart tones all the way through his delivery.
Paige? Paige did it all. She is the master.
~ ~ ~
Today, less than a week from that horrible car accident, there are a hundred or more reasons to be grateful. I cannot begin to list all the complex feelings or the deep gratitude because so much of it is something that cannot be easily integrated or voiced; it is the silent prayer and my nearly constant whisper that says over and over and over again, “Thank you Lord”.
Chris and Britt
#Grahamson and Paige added that little coronary below into the adrenaline mashup for the week. (photo from Tuesday 10/7)
... It is the silent prayer and a nearly constant whisper that says over and over again, “Thank you Lord”.
International Day of the Midwife is in May, but apparently the USA celebrates Midwives in October, for an entire week. Who am I to ignore or miss out on a USA celebration?
As Robert Brault said, “There are exactly as many special occasions in life as we choose to celebrate.”
I marvel daily at how joyous it is to have found the vocation of my heart at this perfect time in life when my kids are bigger and I have the ability to do more outside my home.
There are so many midwives that have inspired me along the way and have spoken truth and life and hope to me in the infancy of my career. Tonight I want to write about one of them.
Meet Marie Jose, pictured on the right. She is with her daughter Wini, a friend of mine and a stellar nurse/midwife at Heartline.
Marie Jose worked for decades in the area of Maternal Health. She worked seven years at a hospital in Mirebalais, Haiti, She also delivered hundreds of babies in the areas she lived for many years.
When I met with her last week she told me that she estimated she had assisted more than 3,000 women with the birth of their babies. She has delivered American, Canadian, and Haitian babies. She has delivered twins, conjoined twins, triplets, and breech babies. She has worked without water, without electricity, without supplies, without adequate rest or help.
When I said, "Because of your hard work, many mothers and babies in Haiti are alive", Marie Jose nodded solemnly,there is no denying God has used her to touch the lives of Haitian women.
Marie Jose had a stroke about 18 months ago. Since her stroke she cannot walk or do what she loves. Her daughters care for her well and have learned to understand and interpret her slurred speech. She remembers a lot. She can tell you stories about birth and life and death. She knows hope and sorrow more intimately than most of us.
I know that Marie Jose will never be recognized in any fancy ceremony, or thanked by her government. I highly doubt most of her amazing stories and unique knowledge will ever be recorded, but I would like you to know about her and I would like to ask you to pray for her and her daughters and grandchildren.
She has given much to her country and her people. In the true meaning of "midwife", Marie Jose has given her life to be "with women".
Le décès de Jean-Claude Duvalier ne dispense pas l’État haïtien de ses obligations
Une crise cardiaque a terrassé à mort le dictateur Jean-Claude Duvalier le samedi 4 octobre 2014. S’il n’y avait pas eu le renversement du régime le 7 février 1986, Haïti serait encore aujourd’hui sous la férule de la dynastie Duvalier puisque, selon les constitutions duvaliériennes de 1971, 1983 et 1985, le pouvoir était « à vie » et héréditaire.
Sans ce frein du 7 février 1986, Jean-Claude Duvalier aurait été le chef de l’État jusqu’à sa mort et son fils, François-Nicolas Duvalier, qui revendique publiquement l’héritage de son grand-père François Duvalier, lui aurait succédé. Ce faisant, nulle autre personne ne pourrait prétendre occuper la fonction présidentielle. Cette donnée semble échapper au Président de la République, Monsieur Michel Martelly, qui s’empresse de rendre hommage au dictateur déchu, en le qualifiant « d’authentique fils d’Haïti », et d’exprimer ses sympathies à ses partisans qui sont légion dans son entourage. Ainsi, pour la énième fois, la présidence tente d’imposer le silence et l’oubli, en bafouant la mémoire des milliers de victimes des 29 ans de dictature, en niant le droit peuple du haïtien à la vérité et à la justice.
La mort de Jean-Claude Duvalier met certes un terme aux poursuites contre sa personne. Cependant, cela n’élimine en aucun cas la responsabilité des consorts, donc des individus qui ont contribué à ce que des crimes soient massivement perpétrés. Nombre de ces consorts sont vivants et sont nommément cités dans le réquisitoire du Ministère public, dans les dépositions des plaignantes et plaignants et dans celles de divers témoins. Le décès de Jean-Claude Duvalier ne peut servir de prétexte pour perpétuer l’impunité. L’État haïtien à toujours l’obligation d’enquêter et de sanctionner les coupables. Le gouvernement ne peut donc se borner à déclarer qu’il laisse la justice « suivre son cours », en ignorant délibérément le fait que les poursuites contre Jean-Claude Duvalier et consorts ont été initiées par l’État haïtien lui-même, pour crimes contre l’humanité et crimes financiers, et sans moindrement fournir au système judiciaire les moyens humains et matériels de réaliser les enquêtes. Le gouvernement ne peut non plus feindre d’ignorer l’impact des prises de position du Président de la République. L’affaire Jean-Claude Duvalier et consorts a été maintenue ouverte grâce à l’engagement des membres du Collectif contre l’impunité et d’autres plaignants représentés par le Bureau des avocats internationaux (BAI).
Une certaine rhétorique voudrait faire croire qu’une page est tournée avec le décès de l’ex tyran. Il n’en est rien, puisque les mécanismes de la dictature n’ont pas été mis en lumière, le bilan des exactions commises n’a pas été officiellement dressé, les responsabilités n’ont pas été dument établies, la vérité n’a pas éclaté au grand jour et le devoir de mémoire reste et demeure une absolue nécessité. C’est en continuant à livrer le difficile combat contre l’impunité que l’esprit de la constitution de 1987, fondée sur le refus de la dictature et le respect des droits humains, sera respecté et qu’Haïti pourra véritablement construire un État de droit démocratique.
Le combat continue!
5 octobre 2014
Danièle Magloire, Coordonnatrice
Collectif contre l’impunité
Regroupement de plaignants-es -contre l’ex dictateur Jean-Claude Duvalier et consorts- et d’organisations de droits humains
Centre œcuménique des droits humains (CEDH)
Kay Fanm (Maison des femmes)
Mouvement des femmes haïtiennes pour l’éducation et le développement (MOUFHED)
Réseau national de défense des droits humains (RNDDH)
Point focal: Centre œcuménique des droits humains (CEDH) - firstname.lastname@example.org
Visitez le site Haïti lute contre l’impunité: www.haitiluttecontre-impunite.org
Par Lyonel Trouillot
Publié le dimanche 5 octobre 2014
(Read original article here)
Jean-Claude Duvalier est mort. Dans les rues et dans les foyers, la nouvelle n’a pas créé de grandes émotions. L’homme semblait à peine vivant. Et, depuis son retour, il s’était installé dans le paysage comme, déjà, un fantôme ou un anachronisme. Et, même si de nombreux citoyens haïtiens ont exprimé le regret que la mort, qui n’est pas une sentence, soit venue lui épargner la reddition de comptes pour des vies et des biens, nos vies, nos biens, nul ne s’acharne à vouloir jeter son cadavre aux chiens. Ce peuple qu’il a tant fait souffrir sait une chose que lui, et son père avant lui, avaient oublié : la mort devrait être naturelle et le repos paisible.
Les Duvalier tuaient les vivants et les morts, n’avaient « d’ennemis que ceux de la nation », traitaient leurs victimes « d’apatrides », leur interdisaient tombes et funérailles. La réception tranquille de la nouvelle de la mort de Jean-Claude Duvalier fait la preuve que les peuples sont meilleurs que leurs dirigeants : Duvalier est mort, paix à son âme.
Le problème avec l’âme, c’est que la preuve n’en est faite que pour ceux qui y croient. On pourrait remplacer le mot par « esprit » ou « motivation », ou encore « personnalité ». Si l’on tient à le garder, habitude oblige, en général on peut le faire suivre par des épithètes. De l’âme on peut dire par exemple que François d’Assise l’avait bonne et François Duvalier plutôt mauvaise, qu’il en est de pures et de sombres.
A côté des crimes de sang et de ses hautes œuvres de prévaricateur, Jean-Claude Duvalier ne nous a rien laissé qui nous permettrait, modeste soulagement, de lui prêter une âme. Ses phrases les plus célèbres tiennent du ridicule. Son "pitit tig se tig"et son "ke makak la la pi rèd" ne témoignent de rien qui renvoie à l’idée d’une personnalité. On dirait un mauvais élève contraint de réciter sa leçon en public.
La tragédie de l’héritier : Élu par son père, il hérite d’un pouvoir et d’un peuple en cadeau. Il l’accepte et devient ainsi pleinement responsable devant l’Histoire. C’est un « Je » tout puissant qui ne sait pas dire « Je ». Un déficit de langage qui reste au pouvoir quatorze ans, se prolonge sur vingt-cinq ans d’exil. Ce n’est qu’à son retour - merci Préval et vive la France ! – qu’on entendra vraiment « sa voix » nous demander, candide : « Qu’avez-vous fait de mon pays ? » Si derrière la candeur pointait l’outrecuidance, l’une des rares sorties de son insignifiance de cet enfant de soixante ans consistait à nous reprocher d’avoir cassé son jouet.
Car, ne nous y trompons pas. Jouets, nous fûmes, et jeu fut son pouvoir. C’est ce que l’on a oublié de dire aux vrais enfants d’aujourd’hui, combien il était facile de mourir de cause pas naturelle, combien le luxe des uns s’étalait sans vergogne devant la misère des autres, combien l’Etat c’était « moi » et Mes supers ministres et Mes tontons macoutes au statut de mineurs, et Mon armée inféodée à Mon exécutif, combien Je pouvais tout prendre, tout requérir : voitures, femmes et guitares ; plages et immeubles, devises et biens publics…
Et le décès du prince déchu n’interdit en rien de continuer de demander des comptes au régime, à ceux qui restent de ses sbires et thuriféraires, et de penser, sans complaisance, sa place dans l’histoire. Le duvaliérisme a jeté du pire sur le pire, le jean-claudisme fut les restes de ce pire, un micmac vide de sens : tout ensemble noiriste et mulatriste, technocratique et obscurantiste, sur fond d’arbitraire et de folles jouissances. Le propre des héritiers, quand ils sont au pouvoir, ne se limite-t-il pas souvent à ne savoir qu’en jouir !
Mais l’homme est mort, ne le tuons pas. Reste à savoir comment le pouvoir actuel gèrera sa dépouille. Tel communiqué pleure un « haïtien authentique » et suggère une nostalgie irrespectueuse de la mémoire des victimes de la fureur duvaliériste, et un principe de ressemblance très inquiétant pour notre avenir. Jean-Claude Duvalier est mort. Nous n’avons pas obtenu justice, l’histoire est ainsi faite. Que ses proches et ses amis le pleurent. Il faut supposer que toute personne ayant vécu a suscité l’amour et l’amitié au moins de quelques uns.
Tout ce que nous demandons au pouvoir actuel, c’est de ne pas nous imposer sa dépouille et son passage comme ceux d’un héros, d’un homme de haute vertu. Ce sera mieux pour tous les morts. Pour lui que nous ne serons pas obligés de dénoncer à chaque acclamation, mais seulement à l’appel du devoir de mémoire. Pour Gasner Raymond, Auguste Thénor… les écoliers des Gonaïves… et tant de morts sans sépultures.
Que ses proches me pardonnent ce jugement lapidaire. L’idée n’est pas de leur faire offense. Leur histoire avec lui n’est pas celle du pays ni du citoyen ordinaire. On leur laisse la leur, qu’ils nous laissent la nôtre. Pour l’Histoire, la grande, vient de mourir un ancien dictateur au teint très pâle qui ne fut rien qu’un héritier : sans pour autant l’innocenter, laissons le reposer dans son insignifiance.
A number of months ago we were contacted by a friend in Haiti that directs a feeding program (Outside the Bowl) in Port au Prince. This feeding program operates out of a kitchen located on the property of a government run/funded maternity hospital.
We were familiar with this hospital because many women deliver there, as the options in Port au Prince are very limited for maternal health care. The options are even more limited outside of the city. It is not uncommon for women with five or six kids to tell us they had two or three kids at home and a baby or maybe two at one of the government hospitals.
The exciting development? We have been invited to come into the postpartum areas of the hospital once a week to try to connect with the women a bit and teach some basic breastfeeding and bonding principles.
We have been going for three weeks, and are starting to figure out what works and what doesn't work so well. In a relationship-based culture, it is pretty important to do what we can to make it fun and light. There isn't the time needed to really get to know one another, so we are improvising and trying to encourage the new Moms by helping them get their babies latched and by taking a few minutes to hear from them about their new babies and their lives.
Today we added a song into our weekly plan/agenda. We were excited and knew it was a good song with the message we hoped to deliver, but we didn't know how well it would be received.
When I heard the security guard outside the window with the sawed off shot gun singing "kite bebe souse'l" - I knew we had a hit!
(Thanks to April for the idea to write a song and to our funny and creative staff for writing it in a flash.)
L to R
April, Wini, Nirva, Mica, Andrema
Here is one of the rooms we visit each Wednesday. There are usually about 25 new moms in this room...
(Apologies for poor quality video, shaky phone video only for now. Mica, our main singer is a mom that delivered at Heartline and loves to sing, we recruit talent when we see it!)
Chant ( kite bebe souse)
Depi ti bebe a fèt mete l nan tete manman l
(when the baby is born, put it to the mother's breast)Paske l gon likid jòn, yo relel kolotwòm
(because she has yellow liquid, it is called colostrum)Yon vaksen natirèl, ki pwoteje trip li
(A natural vaccine that protects baby)Li anpeche l malad, ki develop sèvo l
(it prevents illness and develops the brain)
Chorus:Pa pire l pa jete l
(don't waste it - don't throw it away)Kite bebe souse l
( let the baby suck it)Pa bay dlo, Pa bay lòk,
(don't give water, don't give tea)Kite bebe souse l
( let the baby suck it)
2Aprè 2 a 4 jou depi l tete souvan,
(after 2 to 4 days of breastfeeding often)Wap vin gen anpil lèt, ba li l chak 2 zèd tan
(you will have a lot of milk, give it to your baby every 2 hours)Menmsi li ap domi, reveye l pou tete
(while your baby sleeps, wake him/her for the breast)
Pou kwè li byen tete, kite l pou 30 minit
(for it to be good breastfeeding, let him/her feed for 30 minutes)15 a dwat 15 a goch(15 minutes on the right 15 minutes on the left)Kite bebe souse l
(let the baby suck)Pa di ou pa gen lèt
(don't say you don't have milk)Kite bebe souse l
(let the baby suck it)Jiskake l gen 6 mwa
(birth to six months)
Kite bebe souse l
(let the baby suck it)
Every culture has its beliefs and traditions. In Haiti, women will often throw away colostrum, thinking it is not good for the baby. The most common thing we hear when we enter a room full of ladies that haven't had the chance to learn otherwise is that they don't have milk and are waiting to have milk to feed their new baby. That is just one example of a handful of local beliefs that get in the way of immediate breastfeeding as well as bonding between mother and child.
It is easy to understand why pregnant women would want to get into the Heartline program. We are the only prenatal care provider in Haiti that offers all of the following: three trimesters of weekly classes, three trimesters of personalized care, six months of postpartum care and weekly classes, private labor and delivery with 3 qualified staff at births, breastfeeding support, free birth control offered after birth, transport provided should an emergency occur. The alternative in Port au Prince is typically a few prenatal appointments, a delivery in a busy room filled with others delivering as well, and one day in postpartum care.
The two experiences are totally different.
The fact is, the government hospital is doing everything it can to help reduce maternal mortality. The demand is far greater than are the resources available. Dr. Megan Coffee, a physician working in Haiti with TB patients, recently said, "In medicine, you don't want to die waiting for what's perfect. We always learn the enemy of good is perfect." I am fairly sure Dr. Coffee was referring to TB, Ebola or Cholera, but it applies to Maternal Health as well. I don't think you could find a person that would say that the situation at the government hospitals is sufficient. The fact is, while insufficient, (not perfect) it is still 100% necessary (good) and the care saves lives.
We are incredibly thankful for this opportunity to come along side the nurses and doctors and new mothers that deliver at this hospital, what a gift to us all!
Be on the look out for our forthcoming album of lactation jams.