Makeup for an Old Tomboy

You all probably know by now that I am a new grandma!!! I can't believe I am actually allowed to say that, but yes. It's true. I feel like it's a gigantic rite of passage, and an honour, and more joy than I thought I would be allowed.. but yes, the wheel is turning as it should. And I am growing older and my children are now having children. As it happens, as it should. So be it.

My moon cycle ended when I turned fifty, or rather, the bleeding part of it, because of course I am still led by the moon and she still affects my body. But the miracle of bleeding every month has passed, and it passed with a dramatic few months when every 23 days or so I would lose what seemed like a bathtub full of deep rich blood.

I gained a lot of extra weight after I had my fifth child at 44. I was miserable, and I was eating too much and badly. I was lonely and out of my element. I felt trapped and disgusted with myself. The younger smarter woman would have left the trap she found herself in, but the older and slower one didn't.

But it was fine, because then I started to run, and run, and run until in 2018, on Mother's Day, I ran 26.2 miles. I felt great! I have always been the type of person who wants a physical challenge: back when I had a farm and four little boys I would always be physically busy. Even being a birth companion is physical. But running long distances is the best! So I just kept running. Every day.

But then Covid happened, and although I kept on running, I entered into a new phase of my relationship with my body.

Maybe because I was always running alone. Maybe because I hurt my foot so I had to take a break. Maybe because my Covid stress came out this way, but I started going through the same kinds of feelings many of us go through as girls when we start to reach adolescence. I remember being so terribly shy; so embarrassed about myself; so uncomfortable with my new breasts.

And suddenly, at 64, my infernal mask started giving me a rash on my face that looked suspiciously like my teenage acne. I started feeling self-conscious when I was out running, sure that people were looking at me and wondering why the plump older lady was lumbering down the street with a running watch on. The nightmare of adolescent self-consciousness started to mix and match itself around in my head, until I realized that I had the answer.

I've never worn a lot of makeup. My mother wore it, but she never passed on any tips. I went through a heavy black eyeliner look when I was a hippie, and then when I flirted with punk. But mostly I love lipstick. I've always worn it - every different color from the lightest pink through deep red to almost purple, and a lighter orange for the summer. 

Covid meant that my lipsticks all disappeared into a drawer. I was wearing it for a while at the beginning until I realized that lipstick plus mask makes a mess. I've been going out every day into the world feeling somehow... naked? 

That's what Covid has done to us. We're all feeling naked, or something close to it. Threatened, maybe. Either by the virus itself or by peoples' reactions to it. People are acting wonderfully and awfully. The best of us has come out, and the worst. Our reality has been jolted, as it is when we go through a life change like puberty, pregnancy or menopause. We've been pushed out of our daily routines, our habits, the familiar ways we used to interact with people.

So I feel self-conscious and weird. So does my friend and my neighbour, and even the young woman at the gas station. We're wearing our masks, and no lipstick, and many of us have gained some weight especially around the belly because of our extra high cortisol levels.

But I think I am seeing a little pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel. I see people interacting in different ways, and trying to create a new, better place for us to live. Of course, I could equally go the darker way and note how much more oppression and repression and basic bullshit there is, which is undeniable. The social media have made us worse as a species, not better. But let's say things are getting better. Let's say every "smile with the eyes", every kind act, every time someone went out of their way in the tiniest way, let's say those little things did add up to a mountain of change, and let's say we are moving to a new er and better "normal". 

Most birth journeys include pain, or at least a few moments of .... to call it discomfort is to minimize it ... ok, let's call it intensity. Most of the birth journeys I have witnessed have had several of these moments: before, during and after the child is born. Maybe this is a time of birthing change. Maybe we are birthing a new world, and the intensity and transition that we all feel is part of it.

But lipstick helps. 

 

The Language of Loss

The word "miscarriage" implies that somehow the carrier fucked up. The woman's body wasn't effective in "carrying" the fetus to a healthy end: a live birth. "They" say early miscarriage, that is, before about 10 weeks, happens in around 15% of all pregnancies, but I don't know how you could really tell since many very early pregnancy losses would be interpreted as a heavy period.

Anyway, this word "miscarriage" started to be used in the context of pregnancy loss in the 1500s. A more useful word is abortion: "ab" is a prefix that indicates that something didn't happen; "-ortion" comes from "oriri": I rise, get up. I appear, become visible. I am born, come to exist, originate. So, an abortion doesn't place blame on the carrier, it just names what happened, that the baby didn't come to exist.

Many women who suffer pregnancy loss keep it to themselves. They don't tell their stories, either because they feel ashamed that they lost the baby, or because they're worried about what other people will say, or because they don't know how to express the grief they feel. Women who decide to have therapeutic abortions, also, keep their decisions private, don't know how people will react, and don't know how to express the real emotional fact that although they decided to end the pregnancy, they still feel grief.

The reasons for early pregnancy loss are mostly unknown. Some causes could be a lack of progesterone, an embryo with chromosomal malformations,  an ectopic or abdominal pregnancy, and other reasons that remain a mystery to us. Later pregnancy loss is even more of an unknown and usually the result of an abnormality that would be incompatible with life. Unfortunately, intimate partner abuse is a recognized cause of pregnancy loss up to and including the late third trimester, as are other forms of trauma.

There are studies and statistics that talk about all of these things, but basically when it happens to you, your statistic boils down to 100%. If you've never had a pregnancy loss, it shoots down to 0%. Most women during a normal reproductive life will be pregnant a few times, have a live baby or two, and lose a couple of pregnancies, either on purpose or not. 

But the reality of losing a pregnancy, especially a later one, is something that women don't talk about much, and that means that when it does happen to you, you feel like you have nowhere to turn. People don't know how to react: they'll suggest that you should've taken certain vitamins, seen a different care provider, or done yoga. They won't know how to deal with your grief. As a whole, this society is awful at coping with any kind of pain, whether it be physical or emotional. So losing a baby is just one of those things it's best not to talk about.

Baby Magic, the podcast, is a place where women tell their stories. This week I spoke to Laura about her son's birth during her second trimester, and about how she and her family coped with the loss, learned from his birth, and what she believes women need during this difficult unfolding of the childbearing year.

Baby Magic Podcast

Knife's Edge - Life is Suffering

Today, I am grateful for the Edge. My gratitude alphabet is moving slowly, and I got stuck at E for Edge.

I like to live on that knife edge, where you never really know what's going on, but where you're so keenly aware of the Mysteries that life is always interesting. I get really, really sad sometimes, along with being really, really joyful, and what often keeps me balanced is the thought that "life is suffering". This means that whatever happens, if it's good, is a gift, and if it's not good, well, life is suffering. So you never really expect that things will be excellent, and then when they are, you're pleasantly surprised. 

So, how can we keep the joy in our hearts? And how can we keep our feet from being cut as we dance on the knife's edge?

1. Open your mind. Maybe you're wrong. Maybe you're right. Whatever the case, it's not worth building fences.
2. Keep on loving.
3. Remember, you're always at a crossroads. There is no easy chair you're gonna sink down into.
4. Keep on moving.
5. Be attentive! With all six of your senses. Open up as much as you can, and say yes when it's time.

Stay loving. Keep dancing. Play on the edge. 

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.

Birth Portals

 Today I am on the second letter ... and that would be B, and B stands for Birth Portals.

This was posted on Instagram by @catearth76 and it is so true! But, and I am so full of "but..." and "wait a minute..." and "sorry what?..." these days, but what about those women who don't use that portal to birth their babies?

No, I'm not talking about how wonderful gentle cesarean is and how it's so great that we can lie on the surgical table and do skin-to-skin. Neither am I talking about women whose babies might have died if they hadn't been intervened with.

I'm talking about women who are pushed, coerced, bullied, lied to, manipulated, scared, threatened into agreeing to surgical birth for their babies when there really wasn't any good medical reason for it. This is a fact, it's real, and it's happening in a hospital near you. Especially now that Covid restrictions have made it impossible for a woman to bring the support she needs into the hospital or birth center, and it's made medical workers much more jumpy and afraid.

What is the actual spiritual damage that is done to that miraculous portal when a baby is yanked out through a surgical cut nowhere near the portal? How can we repair that damage? How can we repair that damage to babies, to women, and to the world? 

This is a question I've been struggling with for decades. I started working as a doula in 1997, and I truly thought that accompanying women to the hospital and providing doula support was a valid option. And, yes, I did have a pretty decently low c-section rate (around 10 %, compared to 25% at the hospitals I attended births at). But watching these births wore me down. Watching intelligent, adult women being lied to and treated like children (actually, since when was it fine to manipulate and bully little children?) hurt my soul.

I quit attending births for a while, for various reasons. And now I've started again, and I'm very clear that I only will accompany women who want to KNOW that they hold a sacred portal between their legs, and they WILL NOT be bullied into messing with it. This is my own bias speaking, partly because I wasn't strong enough to do that - I let every Tom, Dick and Harry and their female counterparts bully their obstetric, know-it-all, fear-mongering way into my obstetric activities. And the reasons behind that are many and unsolvable and complex. But I believe that the way I work now is the way to open up that sacred power, so that women can come back to the recognition of their own selves and their own bodies.

Women contact me at various places in their pregnancy journeys. Since I have been back in the practice, I have spoken with women who want me to walk with them throughout their pregnancies, and others who have called me during pregnancy, during labour, or after giving birth. 

When I walk with a woman through pregnancy, we meet online every week and speak for an hour. Sometimes we could talk about books, or what seeds they're planting. Other times we talk about how the pregnancy is progressing, or where they've decided to give birth, and whom they want around them when they're birthing. We talk about their fears, dreams, desires. We try to plan the kinds of support they will have after the baby is born, and they try to imagine what life will be like when they're responsible for feeding and providing for their new baby.

Sometimes we talk about stuff that's happening in their lives, either in the present or in the past, and how that will affect their birthing. Serious abuse in the past affects how we live in the present, and it can definitely affect our ability to reach deep within to find the power it takes to open that sacred portal. Fighting and anger in the present can sometimes mean that a woman no longer has a home where she can feel safe to give birth in, so that is another hurdle for her to jump over. Physical challenges and illness can also affect our body's ability to give birth, but these are rare. Often women worry too much about the physical aspects of pregnancy and birth, and they don't consider the emotional and spiritual weight of their pregnancy, birth, and parenting.

So, I try to walk with a woman and her family through this important time in their lives while maintaining an open spirit and an open heart. My open heart reflects with theirs and together we can find a place where that shy but powerful portal will open. Women are being cut open for no reason. Placentas are being pulled out with no reason. Women are not listened to when they say they have a pain, for no reason. Women are being ignored when they say they are scared, for no reason.

Or, wait, is there a reason? Who could want to keep that portal scarred and closed? Who could want to stop that power from being unleashed in the world? Who could want a world where we all remembered that we are all birthed through a sacred, fiery, spiritual, creative, awe-inspiring portal? Who might be afraid of a world that was held together by witch power and magic? 

Oh, so I forgot - this is a gratitude note! So I am grateful for Birth Portals. I'm grateful for witches, for womanhood, for love. I'm grateful for the circle of women who surround me and protect me. I'm grateful for the moon and the stars.

A Cautionary Tale

I'm starting another Gratitude Alphabet. I first did one back in 2014, after my mother died. I think now is the time for another one: this past year has been foggy and strange for everyone, and sometimes we need to remind ourselves we are grateful.

I'm starting this alphabet with A for A Cautionary Tale.

In January 2020, I decided to start a run streak. That means that I would run at least a mile every single day. I ended up running a total of 1,111 miles during that year, and it was good. It helped me get out of the house; it gave me my much-needed solitude - living with a houseful of related males was fun and sometimes too much; it kept me fit.

In January 2021, I realized that my foot hurt pretty badly. And my muscles were cramping all the time: something was up! I am lucky - I have a family doctor, so I called her up and she sent me for an x-ray of my foot.

The day after the x-ray, I got a scary call. Severe Osteoporosis! No running, huge amounts of calcium and vitamin D, and a bone scan. I also added in some magnesium as I knew that the balance of calcium and magnesium needed to be maintained. My muscle cramps disappeared. My foot continued to hurt. I spent February sitting on the couch in the evenings having a drink (never more than one). Exercise wasn't happening. Oh, yea, I did the Plank Challenge. I can plank for two minutes. 

Bone scan happened. Three weeks passed! That's several different cocktail recipes. I wondered if I would ever be able to run again. Foot hurt. I got a fancy gizmo to wear on my toes. I was still on my feet every day working at my cafe.

March. My doctor calls me and says Oooops, weird. No osteoporosis, in fact my risk level is very very very low. I didn't bother asking why they said at first that I had the severe osteoporosis. Maybe because I'm 64, or who knows. Anyway, I don't have it so that's great! I started running again, short runs. I still want to do a 50k for my 65th birthday. But ... I am running very, very slowly. I feel weird when I run. Sluggish. I wonder if I have Covid. I can't seem to make my muscles move properly, but I'm not tired. Just "sluggish".

I kept running and decided it's the price you have to pay for taking an injury break. My running group leader said that it's the price I have to pay for doing a running streak. I'm just not convinced. Everyone's telling me different things, but none of it really adds up to how I'm actually feeling.

I teach a doula course. One of the main values that guides my practice, as a birth companion and as a teacher, is that we really only have our senses to guide us in this practice. One of our most valuable senses is the sense of intuition. I was chatting with one of my students about her main project, and she randomly mentioned that she takes magnesium at night after a stressful day: it helps her muscles relax and helps her sleep.

The next day, I stopped taking magnesium. A few days after that, I went for a run. I felt so different! I was back to my normal self! Yes, I'm not a fast runner, but I'm surely not a tortoise. I was literally poisoning myself with magnesium because of a suggestion that my doctor had made, on the basis of a false diagnosis!

My advice to you: 

• Know your body. If it feels weird, then it is weird. Something's wrong. If someone tells you something is happening in your body that just doesn't seem right, then try and figure out what's going on. 
• Be careful! Don't take supplements, herbs or anything unless you are very sure that it is safe and useful.
• Trust other people, but not 100%! Even a doctor can be wrong sometimes.
• If you're an older woman, perhaps a run streak isn't for you. Since my streak, I have been intrigued by how much of our advice in the sports and athletic world (and nutrition, and medication, and medicine...) is based on the adult male body. Women, especially older women, need to train differently from men. They have more stamina, but they burn energy differently, and most importantly, they recover differently. I was doing myself a disservice by emulating my heroes' run streaks, as I wasn't actually listening to what MY body needs. My body needs a day every week to recover and rest. 

I am grateful today for my healthy body, for the time I have to spend, for my lovely doula students.... oh, I am going way beyond A... tomorrow will be B.

Cesarean Awareness Month

It's funny they would have a month for a surgical operation. I have the same feeling about Black History Month. Like, if it's important, shouldn't we learn about black history every day we learn about history? Like, shouldn't the history books be rewritten? They're certainly biased....

I digress. Let's deconstruct history another way:

Pithiviers, France, is remembered by some French Jews as the place where their relatives or friends of the family were sent after the Nazis occupied France. There was an internment camp there where families were separated and the adults were sent to Auschwitz to be killed.

We also remember Pithiviers as the place where Michel Odent was head of the maternity ward from 1962 to 1985. Here, he fashioned his notions of natural birth, by creating an environment where women could give birth in an undisturbed way. He provided singing sessions during the prenatal period, birthing pools, and skin-to-skin contact after birth.

Years ago, I was part of a group of birth workers who brought Dr Odent to Montreal to speak. I remember being so shocked when he suggested that there was a causal relationship between the murder and violent crimes rates in some cities in the world, and the cesarean rates. Effectively, he was suggesting that if you have your baby by cesarean, then they are more likely to become a violent criminal. I immediately took a dislike to him and his silly ideas, and, more importantly, I asked myself why there was a whole room of healthy, young women absolutely worshipping his words? There he was, a shrunken old white guy, talking about how babies needed to go through the vagina and arrogantly proclaiming that women who have cesareans are going down the path to hell, and dragging their newborns along with them.

Fast forward a few years and I was up on the stage. We were doing a little panel about VBACs. A woman stood up from the audience and said that she was newly pregnant with her second, hoping for a vaginal birth after a brutal c-section with her first. She wanted advice from a midwife on the panel. This is what she got: "If you want to give birth vaginally, you have to put your big girl panties on and fight for what you want."

And I remember teaching a class to a group of doula students, and the woman teaching with me said that, generally, women who have repeat cesareans have a lot of unprocessed resentment to deal with, and if they dealt with it their chances of VBAC increases. 

So, in a nutshell, three birth professionals said: women who birth their babies by c-section are driving up the crime rates because their children are more likely to be criminals (also, in an article he wrote in 2008, Odent suggested that cesarean birth may produce more male homosexuals); that women who want a vaginal birth after a previous c-section should somehow grow up so that they can achieve this; and that women who have c-sections may be dealing with repressed feelings, and that repression or other negative feelings such as resentment could be the reason for the surgeries.

If we look at these criticisms from a feminist perspective, they seem very similar to the rape dilemma - don't wear provocative clothing, don't go out at night alone, don't drink, or you will become a victim.

There's a feeling amongst the "natural" birth movement that a woman can have a "natural" birth if she wants it hard enough. We can read of powerful, transcendent, wild, free births where a woman moves through portals to meet her child. These are lovely, indeed, but not everyone can have or would want to have that experience.

In my opinion, giving birth is a very private act. It is so varied, the ways in which we birth, almost as varied as, for example, the shapes of our noses, or the leafiness of our labia. Some women want to birth alone, or just with their partner present. Others want their children there too. Some want a doula or two, and a midwife. Other women prefer a physician, and they want to be in a hospital. Some want to have a midwife follow them, and they want a water birth in the birthing centre.

All of these possibilities should be respected as valid, informed choices. So why are they not? Because, often, if a woman chooses to be followed by a medically trained midwife or a doctor, she ends up giving up her right to informed choice and she gets put on a conveyor belt where she is no longer the central person in this sacred, primal event, and she gets things done to her. The birth process gets put on a schedule; the body is examined time and time again; this or that intervention is done until finally all the options have been exhausted and she is wheeled into the operating room.

Yes, having a doula present will decrease your chances of c-section by a decent percentage, especially if you are a mid- to high-income woman living in an affluent country (https://www.cochranelibrary.com/cdsr/doi/10.1002/14651858.CD003766.pub6/full) 

Women choose to go the hospital to have their babies for many different reasons, and none of these reasons are an excuse for an unwanted and unnecessary c-section. What could these reasons be? 

• they want the security of being in a hospital
• they wanted to have a midwife follow them but couldn't find one
• they don't have health insurance and/or can't afford a midwife
• they don't have a home that is suitable for a home birth (think abuse, living with a lot of other people who aren't supportive, and those kinds of things)
• they don't know their options
• they are forced to because no one will attend them at home because they're carrying twins, or have had several c-sections, or they're obese, or are substance abusers
• they are followed by a midwife but get transferred to the hospital because of government regulations (labour too long, pregnancy too long, suspected this or that)
• covid-related issues reduce their choices

Any number of these women could end up being part of the 25-30% of women who give birth in the hospital who end up with a c-section. The WHO suggests that 15% is a reasonable rate. I insist that here in our affluent country, a c-section rate of 5% would adequately save the lives that have to be saved by obstetric surgery.

How can you avoid an unwanted c-section? Ask questions. Hire a doula, or find one for free. Contact me and I will do my very best to connect you to the people you need. Find a midwife. Get a doctor who hears what you're saying. Say no. Don't do anything that seems wrong. 

Let's work together to put the Cesarean section back where it belongs - in the realm of emergency surgery!