Chaos

Today I am grateful for Chaos. My gratitude alphabet is moving slowly this time around because ... well, because of chaos. 

But actually what I really wanted to talk about here was this:

Ok, let's pretend we don't see the grammatical errors. Sorry to sound like an uptight bitch but I am so upset. Ok, here we go.

Sentence 1: I'm just going to ignore the first question, because that is a huge question and one that I'm trying to answer in a thoughtful and mindful way. So, if anyone actually wants to talk about that, and it's certainly worth talking about, then I respectfully invite you to enter into dialogue with me, but on my terms. Those would be no anonymity, no name-calling, no threats of violence, no libellous claims.

Sentence 2: I do respect people's chosen names and their pronouns. If someone came to me asking for my birth services and wanted to be called whatever, and whichever pronouns, I would absolutely respect their wishes and call them whatever they wanted. "when you go by an alias". Honestly, this phrase fills me with anger, shame, and dread. Anger, because I chose to use my "alias" to write and publish the original post, precisely because no one knows me by my former name and I didn't want to hide behind it.

Shame because Rivka Cymbalist, the name, has roots in a very dark time in my life. Toni Morrison actually had the same problem with her name. She had already divorced Morrison when her first book was going to press, "...I called the publisher and said, oh, by the way, I don't want Toni Morrison to be on the book. And they said, it's too late. They've already sent it to the Library of Congress. But I really would have preferred Toni Wofford." https://www.npr.org/2016/01/22/463901896/i-regret-everything-toni-morrison-looks-back-on-her-personal-life

Dread, because of sentence 3 below. 

Sentence 3: This really gets me because, actually, very few people who know me know that Rivka Cymbalist is not my birth name. Rivka was a name that a rabbi dreamed up for me twenty years ago when I was part of an ultra-orthodox cult. Ok, Cymbalist is my married name which ok, I get that we take our husband's names. But only people who knew me before 1997, or people who were actually part of that cult.... know that Rivka Cymbalist is my pen name. Why did I keep it? Because it's the name everyone knew me by in the birth world, where I have made a difference to very many women and their babies and their lives, by supporting them through birth. So I keep it, like a pet you never really liked but don't want to put down.

Sentence 4: Holy shit! I preach? Nope. 

Respectful maternity care? Yep.

"left a mother with unresolved retained placenta for four hours" This is Libel.

"went to your room to pray" Another clue that the (anonymous and cowardly) writer of this critique might be part of a religious cult, otherwise why would they think I would pray?

Be very clear, whoever you are. This is libel. You have just accused me of doing something that I never did.

Sentence 5: Let's just not bother with this. Ok, I will just mention that in fact the only time I ever used blue and black cohosh tincture was in a hospital with a patient under an OBGYN care who had asked me to try to induce "naturally". The patient had her BP checked every half hour and was under careful supervision. Those herbs are powerful!

Sentence 6: Well, there's so much wrapped up in this question.... let's just say that neither I nor the obstetricians I used to work with are in the habit of leaving a woman to die of infection or hemorrhage.

Chaos is in our blood. It's part of our mystery. It makes us human. As a mother, a wife, a friend, a human .... as a birth companion, a healer ... I try to embrace chaos as much and as often as I can. I try to live on the knife's edge because I've found that if you don't, you get bitter, and you get cut. 

Criticizing others is part of the way that we grow as humans and as cultures. But anonymous, hateful criticism, full of lies and darkness, scares me and although I know that this too is part of the chaos we live within, I'm sad.

So, today I am grateful for chaos.

Volunteer Reality Check.

Today was my last day visiting the camps. One of them is officially closing next week. There are around fifty people left. Most of the residents have been relocated to hotels or rented apartments, where they suffer isolation from the community within the camp but of course appreciate the conveniences of modern life that they were used to before the war.

I am going to Athens tomorrow and while I'm there I'll be visiting someone who was relocated there from the north who has a newborn, and I'll be visiting the Amurtel centre for mothers and babies.

In the meantime, I am left with a feeling of not having done nearly enough - which I know is a normal response to a crisis as big and as ugly as this one. So what did I actually do, people? I gave out a lot of food packs and diapers. I met with women who were breastfeeding, and tried to encourage them. I weighed babies. I listened to fetal heart rates and reassured pregnant women. I sat and conversed with a lot of people, using sign language and Google translate. I made a difference for a few people I met. I provided continuous prenatal care for a couple of women. Oh, and yesterday I met with a woman who really wanted a nightgown to wear after she gave birth, so we went shopping. We bought a couple of pyjama sets and a few other bits and bobs. It was fun, and gave her a lot of pleasure. Instead of being given something that was old and probably the wrong size, she chose what she wanted and although I paid, I could have been her mother, so it didn't seem so bad.

The maternity care system here is brutal and backwards. Arabic or Kurdish speaking women go into the hospital and often are not allowed to bring anyone in with them. Cesarean section rate is ridiculous.

Will talk more about that in a future post, and about what I am going to do about it, with YOUR help.

But for now, I am just devastated by the level of disorganization and egotism that is apparently rampant amongst the organizations that are here to provide care. The disorganization starts at the top, to wit a screaming match between the UNHCR officials and the military about what day the camp would close.

I understand, I do. We are talking about tens of thousands of people, no money, closed borders, an infrastructure that is on its knees, yes I understand.

But I've heard stories, consistent ones, about disorganization and chaos reigning supreme in the smaller organizations as well, and that, to me, is unacceptable. Are you proud that your organization has 50 volunteers? Because it makes you look like a saviour? Even if each volunteer hands one banana to a refugee every day? And the so-called refugees don't want your crummy banana anyway?

I know what the women and families I met wanted from me. They wanted me to provide good, quality midwifery care. They wanted to see me every week. They wanted me to be able to visit them wherever they lived, whether or not my organization had permission. They wanted me to help them have the baby, to be with them in labor and birth. They wanted care that was not judgemental, no rolling of the eyes when they mentioned circumcising their baby boys.

So, people, I'm working on it. I have a plan. Please keep on supporting me, I'm going to tell you about my plan soon soon. Inshallah.

In the meanwhile, here are some images from the past few weeks that will give you a sense of what I've been seeing.

I'm With Syria

Home for many until Jan 2017

No diaper donations needed!

Warehouse of donated stuff

Look Closely

Handprints on the wall

View of the camp

MotherBaby Tent

School and Playing Field at Camp

Elpida - Charter School of Refugee Camps

Fireside seating