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Last night we snuggled down in our warm bed and Dom says "I love you so much, the love... it's getting deeper, I feel like my brain is being attacked my love hormones".

I say "I know, we leveled up. It's great, huh?”, And then I fell asleep in his armpit.

I have only known the feeling of growing apart before. Now I know the feeling of growing together.

 

and when summer gets to me
and sets the sex on fire
my body is an ocean
of twisted white debris


 

and when summer gets to me
and sets the heart in motion
a pain that hides in my insides
is suddenly set free

This lady sat next to me and Olive on the bus and she seemed so centered. She was, I dunno, 70? She seemed totally contented and neat, happy to be alive. I envied her. She is not, and has not been for quite some time, under the influence of ridiculous hormones. She is free from the chains of human reproduction, from the monthly ebb and flow of the menstrual cycle.

I don’t need to know what day it is in my cycle to know my period is rapidly approaching. I cant cope, I feel tired and fat, easily insulted and unable to concentrate. Emotional, exhausted, pissed off and weak. The house is unbearably messy, even though it probably isn’t. I cant differentiate between what is real and what is PMS.

At any rate, regardless of my foul demeanor, Olive and I got on the bus and got some stuff done this morning.



Paid bills, got a few groceries.




The two items I needed most I forgot, of course. Toilet paper and milk.

Now there is Sponge Bob and lunch, cleaning and possibly moving everything out of our bedroom so we can paint. The later is unlikely, I lack enthusiasm and energy.

I am in a really horrible place right now. If you are interested, read on. If not, move on to something else.

I am about ready to kill my mother.

Since my dad died, about a year ago, my mother has been on a spending spree. She gets about 1,200 a month in disability and windows stuff (plus food stamps), *and* my dad left her 10 grand when he died. As a woman who lives alone she doesn’t have many expenses. Yet, despite the more than adequate monthly income, AND the money my father left her, AND her food assistance, she is flat broke. Why? Because she sits in her house all day and orders clothes, jewelry, makeup, shoes and fancy little baubles from QVC. She spent everything my dad left her within 8 months of his death. A few months ago we had to move her into a shitty subsidized apartment because she had put herself into so much fucking debt with her shopping. It’s ridiculous.

So, a few days ago she tells me “put away some money for me, please? I am afraid I am going to be overdrawn on my account.” Again. WHY? Because she bought herself ANOTHER NEW PURSE (she has about 10 purses already). I went to the bank and withdrew some money. I asked if she needed it yesterday. She said no. So, this afternoon, at 1pm (a half hour before the bank closes), she calls me up and tells me I must come over right now and give her the money before the bank closes and hurry up and all that shit as I bleed and ache and snot and cough all over myself. I just lost it with her. I told her to fucking forget it. NO. NO HELP. STOP SPENDING ALL YER MONEY ON SHIT YOU DON’T NEED. I want to strangle her. I feel so, so, so sick. I feel horrible. And I am supposed to drive over to her place and give her the only money I have so she can just spend more?


I feel like a rabid animal. 

Feeling a little less agro about birthing, life in general.

I visited my client who delivered on Monday and found her to be well rested and breastfeeding well. She thanked me, thanked me, thanked me until we both cried a little and I was off. I found that although everything went to shit she still felt satisfied with my support, and that is a positive thing. I am still committed to home birthing only, but I suspect this will be hard to commit to when I am pretty much the only Doula in town. I cannot resist a woman in need.

I started a new Childbirth Ed. Series last night. 11 couples! I felt very excited to teach to them, as they all seemed bright and interested in what I had to say. And I didn’t stutter too much.

I start back at Bread and Roses today, and I don’t really mind. I am feeling like the problem I had before with working there was that whole treading water feeling…the uselessness of not pursing my dreams. Now that I am back on board (I start school again in 4 weeks!) I am excited to go back there, if only so I can earn the money I need to pay for my class. Also, I opted to work the afternoon shift, as opposed to the early morning shift. This will make a world of difference. This mammal does not naturally wake at 5am.

Other than that…Tony visits us this weekend…and my man has a hot ass.

Pitocin...epidural...c-section. 

I hate it when I am right about these things.
 
 I am now a homebirth Doula only. I don't mind a long haul of a labor, I really dont. I dont mind going without sleep. I dont mind every muscle in my body aching. I do, however, mind watching my client being subjected to every invasive medical procedure in the book. I do mind watching nurse after nurse turn her pitocin drip...up...then down...then up...then down...then up again, without her knowlege or concent. I do mind the nurse treating my client like a hassle because she wants to move freely during labor. I mind. I MIND. I REALLY FUCKING MIND.

Still waiting to be called to this birth and I just keep thinking…I really want to limit my practice to homebirth. 

My client's induced labor is becoming a long, drawn out saga already. I sit around
waiting to get a call, all the while trying to mess with my work and momming schedule in order to make myself available. I know this is my job, and believe me, I love me work. It’s just SO unnecessary. If her labor were to start on it’s own I would not have to deal with this. As the years go on, I have a harder time being at the mercy of unnecessary procedures and impatient doctors. It really is time to get my ass to Midwifery school. Being a Doula can be very, very frustrating, as you can see. And yes, I know a lot of the time medical intervention is necessary and I am so pleased we have it available. It’s the business of necessity that gets me in this funk.

Moving on.

I am going to try really hard not to be so pissy. Although, I have been generally pissy lately, and I don’t really know why. In the midst of my pissiness at work today, my boss said “I wanna be Amber when I grow up”. I said “Shit. Why? What’s so great about my life?”.

“Well, you’re only 25 and you own your home already. You have an amazing relationship, a great kid, and a promising career ahead of you”.

I felt like an ass. He’s right, I do have a beautiful life. Even if the little stuff, like laundry or bills or a difficult client situation get me all upset.

I’m going to try to meditate on that for a while.

I just finished hauling over 1,000 lbs of crap outta my garage. It took me and Olive about 8 hours.

I am so, so butch.

I have about 2 hours before I go to work. I am working the night shift (Midnight to 8am) at the hospital as a PSA.



I withdrew from my C.N.A class. After my first day of clinicals I knew I was done. Even though I was so close to the end, I just could not go back there. It was such a nightmare for me. The whole thing had been a nightmare, actually. I am not someone who generally quits something, so I struggled a lot with my decision. But I think I made the right choice.

Another part of my reasoning (other than the fact that I hated the course) is that I am getting back on track with my Midwifing education. I realized I would not even use the C.N.A certification, so why torture myself, you know?

So, I am so completely excited about immersing myself back into my goals. I got so excited that I went and applied with REACHE
I was accepted to sit on the board of directors. I start in April.

In addition to this, I am taking a Lactation course at SMS in June. I figure, hey. Why not just go ahead and become an IBCLC
while I am at it? I already have the college pre-recs done. All I need is the course in June and a shit load of hours with clinical experience, which I will get though Doula-ing and Midwifing. Perfect.

Really.



Thinking a lot. Making lots of plans. More news later. Good news this time.

So. What am I going to do when I am done with my C.N.A course?

I am going back to making coffee.

This may seem like a move backwards, but it is not. I am looking forward to it, actually. There is nothing like working with the sick and dying to make a girl stop her bitching and yearn for the simple life, full of pastry, coffee and conversation with yuppies and hipsters. Besides, I need the money.

I am going to get back on track with my Midwifery education. I need to come up with 600$ by April 1st so I can take a Nutrition class I need as a pre-rec. After that I only have 3 more pre-recs to do! So, I am anxious to get back to work and earn that money. I contacted SMS and the admissions lady helped me get it all mapped out.

I am glad I took the nursing program, even though I am not going to use the certification. It helped me realize just how bad I want to be a Midwife, got my head back in that direction. I really lost my focus last year. I drank too much, had too many people die.

Not my style to post stuff like this, but I thought it was cute...

If I were a month I would be: November
If I were a day of the week I would be: Tuesday
If I were a time of day I would be: 11:35pm
If I were a planet I would be: Jupiter
If I were a sea animal I would be: A Seahorse
If I were a direction I would be: West
If I were a piece of furniture I would be: A love seat
If I were a historical figure I would be: Edith Piaf
If I were a liquid I would be: Milk
If I were a stone, I would be: Amber!
If I were a tree, I would be: A cherry blossom
If I were a bird I would be: A crow
If I were a tool, I would be: A level
If I were a flower/plant, I would be: Orchid
If I were a kind of weather, I would be: A sunny day, cool breeze
If I were a musical instrument, I would be: An Accordion
If I were an animal, I would be: Duck Billed Platypus
If I were a color, I would be: Sea foam
If I were an emotion, I would be: Motivated
If I were a vegetable, I would be: A yellow pepper
If I were a sound, I would be: A moan.
If I were an element, I would be: Fire.
If I were a car, I would be: A Volvo
If I were a song, I would be: Adventures in the Supermarket by the Raincoats
If I were a food, I would be: Mashed Potatoes.
If I were a place, I would be: Santa Cruz, CA
If I were a material, I would be: Cashmere
If I were a taste, I would be: Coconut
If I were a scent, I would be: Pheromones
If I were a religion, I would be: Pagan
If I were a word, I would be: Dilated
If I were an object, I would be: A blanket
If I were a body part I would be: A uterus! 
If I were a facial expression I would be: A smirk
If I were a subject in school I would be: Sex ed.
If I were a cartoon character I would be: Enid Coleslaw
If I were a shape I would be: A circle
If I were a number I would be: 10 

I got a call from James* at around 7am. I was in nursing class, practicing CPR on a dummy.

“Amber, she’s in labor. We’re at the hospital. Her water broke and they are starting her on Pitocin”.

James sounded calm, way calmer than he ought to be. I mean, his wife is in labor, and with twins. I grabbed my bag and bid my classmates farewell. I had a long drive ahead of me, about 45 minutes. I had not done a delivery at this hospital before, which is in a larger town south of Port Townsend. I immediately wondered why she was given Pitocin if her water had already broke and she was clearly in labor.

I got home and packed my bag up. Clothes, snacks, extra underwear and socks. Oils and massage tools. I was ready.

At around 10 am I got to the hospital. It was a pleasant drive. Sunny, clear skies all the way. When I arrived at her bedside I found her somewhat sedated and laying on her back. She was hooked up to every piece of machinery available to a laboring woman: Pitocin IV drip, external fetal monitors, a catheter, a blood pressure cuff, and an Epidural “sample”. The anesthesiologist had come in prior to my arrival and had insisted she get an epidural placed and just “try out” the medication. He said “Yes, yes, I know you don’t want one, it’s a just a sample. This way we know you are a good candidate for one, you know…in case the babies are in danger and you need one for a c-section”.

A nurse was busy at a massive computer, which was monitoring the babies’ heartbeats. Immediately the nurse spun around and looked me up and down. “So. You’re the Doula”. I nodded my head. “Where were you trained?” I replied that I was trained at Seattle Midwifery School, and had obtained additional training though ALACE. “How long ago?” I could not believe I was being grilled by this woman. I was getting pissed and I just wanted to talk to my laboring mother, ask her if she was okay with everything that was happening to her. In our prenatal meetings she was adamant that she give birth as naturally as possible. Her twins where head down, she was completely healthy, and had started labor on her own. She was 1 cm dilated. Considering all of this, I was very confused by all the medical intervention.

To change the subject and focus the attention on my client, I asked how long she had been lying on her back. She said several hours. “Okay”, I said, “maybe we can change your position. “NO, no you don’t” the nurse chimed in. “She cannot move. She needs to be monitored very closely. I about her babies‘ safety”. I looked at my client as she nodded sheepishly at the nurse.

I could not believe it.

The nurse continued with her interrogation.

“So, are you going to become a nurse?”.

“No. I am going to be a Midwife”.

Silence.

Then she looked at me and scoffed.

“When I was getting my masters in nursing I went to hospital that had Midwives working in it. So, so unsafe” she said with a roll of her eyes.

It was clear to me then that I was not welcome here. Both of my clients had been disempowered by fear; they had been convinced that if labor was not induced, if she did not have an epidual, if she even dared to change position, she was putting her babies in jeopardy. As for me, well, I was just some uneducated hippy. Some dumb dirty wannabe midwife who was trying to intervene and kill the babies.

I took a break. I had to.

When I came back, a mere hour later, the sample epidural had worn off and a permanent one had been placed. I was confused. I looked at James and he immediately got out of his chair.

Outside of her room we had a talk.

“James, I am afraid I am wasting your time and money. I cannot work. I simply have no job to do. Even if she hadn’t had an epidural I doubt that nurse would let me near her”.

He nodded sadly and said “We discussed it, and we had actually already decided that you should just go home. Keep the payment we gave you. We really value all you have done for us, but I don’t think there is anymore you can do. I am so, so sorry. It’s not your fault”.

He was right. It was not my fault. The problem is much larger than me, him or that nurse. It will always be a problem until women get out of there beds, open their mouths and insist they get the care they deserve. 

I left at around noon, totally pissed.

(*not his real name) 

I have a client in early labor.

She is having twin daughters. First twin birth. Radical.

She could hold them in a few more days...but I am hoping not. I would love to do a birth tonight.

Today was HIV training day.



7 hours of video about the hiv. I go though an inventory of all previuos lovers. Convinced I have HIV.



Pick up Olive, drive home in the sunshine.



God...it's a really perfect day.

Let's go feed the ducks?

My spirit animal.

I miss my dude today. We're both gone so much now...differnt schedules.

Going to the pool with Olive.