Lion Hearted

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"For every disease, there is a cure." 
Prophet Muhammad 

At four weeks postpartum, I was bending over cardboard boxes, deciding which books I would need for the next year, and which I could part with.  As I straightened up, I tightened the knot on the belly wrap designed to put my fragile insides back together.  To help me pare down my closet, I needed a dear friend, and the unwavering opinion of my fashion sensible midwife.  I guess plaid is out, who knew? The fragile moments of the first couple of weeks post -birth, already seemed like another lifetime's dream.  By the time my mother came to meet her newest grandchild, her only daughter was in need of some ibuprofen and a shoulder to cry on. Not to mention the help I needed washing the dingy curtains, and packing those aforementioned books. (Note to self: A Kindle is warranted until you buy a house!) It wasn't an option to take a back seat.  My husband accepted a once in a lifetime opportunity to study with a respected teacher and continue his academic studies.  One short month after meeting my son, it was LA or bust.  I was tending towards the latter. 

If this were a movie, I would roll the credits first, because without the support of family, friends, and community, none of this would have happened.  It was an outpouring of generosity like no other.  Each night I found freshly cooked food at my doorstep, or steaming from my table.  Clothes for the baby, and even my daughter arrived unbidden.  One talented and creative friend sewed bags filled with activities for the older ones, and baked the best sugar-free, grain-free snacks a gluten sensitive mama could hope for.  My son went to the zoo, and Fairy Land, with an ice cream stop to boot.  The last baby I delivered before I had mine, even made an appearance. And I would be remiss not to mention the presence of a fellow midwife, who truly midwifed me through one of the hardest days of my life.  She was born to do this work. God bless her.  It was awe inspiring and bittersweet, for soon I would be leaving this nest of community and warmth. But first, I'd have to put the Boppy aside, and pack up the entire house.

It's hard to follow your own advice, though I endeavored.  I rested in bed for two weeks, stayed warm, gave myself warm oil massages, ate the best darn food I could. Hell, I even gave myself moxa treatments.  But the looming move crept in and all of my best laid postpartum care plans shrank in response.  STRESS became  a real and unwelcome guest.  Oh, did I mention 'the shooting'?  There was one, in front of my house, at dinner time.  We had the luxury of leaving that night.  May God help and raise up those mothers who don't.  It seemed stress was everywhere I turned.

Evidence of my herbal medicine nesting!

There was however, one burst of nesting which became my postpartum savior.  In anticipation of the move,  my settled pregnant self dove into herbal medicine making.  It was a way to hedge myself against what I knew would become a harried postpartum. Sitz bath herbs, nursing teas,  arnica and St. John's Wort oils, valerian root, motherwort and echinacea tinctures were all brewed up and bottled before I delivered.  It was a gift to myself and a sure stroke of intuition, for I needed these herbs even more than I anticipated.

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The move, turned out to be a minor blip in the scheme of things.  My husband and I had to be separated, all told for over a month. (The LA rental market turned out to be less than friendly to a family of 5!)  My little ones and I lived with the most generous brother and sister in law you could ever ask for, for one month.  It was an epic postpartum I tell you.  It was going to take more than some nursing tea to get me through. It was going to take the heart of a lion.

Luckily, I had the closest thing I could get, the plant called motherwort , leonurus cardiaca, Latin for lion hearted.  Brewing this tincture many moons ago, I had anticipated using it for the afterpains.  Motherwort, or mother's herb,  is an antispasmodic and a uterine tonic.  And for those first few days, I was taking it every half hour or so to quell the crushing afterpains.  However, motherwort is more than that, it is also a nervine and sedative and often used in the treatment of stress and nerve related disorders.

This is what the respected herbalist Susan Weed has to say about this herb:

Another of motherwort’s uses is to improve fertility and reduce anxiety associated with childbirth, postpartum depression, and menopause. If used in early labor it will ease labor pains and calms the nerves after childbirth. Take motherwort only once soon after giving birth as consistent use before the uterus has clamped down may cause bleeding to continue. Use one to two times a day in the weeks following birth for easing tension and supporting a woman through the feelings that come with new mothering.

One lonely morning,  as the two year old was melting down, the baby was crying, and my poor six year old looked just plain apathetic, I found the full bottle of motherwort tincture waving at me from my  bathroom bag.  I  took two full droppersful.  My shoulders instantly dropped from my ears.  A plan of action soon formed in my mind (calm the two year old first, always!), and the overwhelm seemed to diminish.  The courage to pluck on grew in this delicate new mama heart.  Throughout the next month, motherwort became my green friend.  I took it morning and night, and whenever the two year old decided to dig in her poopy diapers (yes, you read that correctly.  A habit she developed once moving into the pristine enclave of my in laws!) Motherwort, take me away!  Two droppersful and I could exhale again, feel the ground hold me up, and march on. 


It's been three months since then.  Ya Sin is four months old, just rolling over, and charming us all with his easy going grin. My 8 ounces of motherwort tincture is long gone.  There are many mornings or mid afternoons, where I could still use it to be sure, but I find myself brewing that nursing mother's tea now. "For every disease there is a cure", said the Prophet Muhammad.  While my postpartum was not a disease,  it was excessive and warranted a cure of its own.  I believe in medicine of all kinds.  Each tupperware filled box cooked for us was medicine.  Every phone call or text message to see how I was, was medicine.  For everyone who joined me on my couch and listened, I healed.  These were all cures for my state.  But motherwort certainly lived up to its name as a mother's herb.  It was the cure for this mother during a less than ideal postpartum. 

I once heard that the medicine you need, is always with you, you just have to be open to it.   That was certainly the case with me and motherwort.  May you always find the medicine you need, when you need it.  Thanks for your patience.  Want to know how I made these tinctures without alchohol?  Stay tuned, I have a post coming up!!

Eat, Drink and Be Content - My Birth Story

The gray area of when labor starts is rarely heralded by a neat "5 min apart, lasting 1 minute, for at least 1 hour", otherwise known as 511, but, shhh, don't tell my midwifery clients.  As a midwife, I can tell it in the puffed faces of my beautiful mothers, their mental desperation and physical distress at a state that is starting to feel timeless. As a mother, I recognize it in myself when I start to burn things in the kitchen, consistently, each meal is somehow derailed, for days.  My mind is incredibly present, but not.  It is the outward manifestation of the internal contradiction, in the the invariable discomforts of late pregnancy, I somehow find myself yearning for escape though the rhythmic pain of contractions.

I have just felt three contractions in a half hour.  They squeeze my middle, forcing me to sway my hips and breathe.  The baby even pauses its passes at my ribs, seeming to wonder at the new sensations too.  I call my husband at work, wanting him to be on alert in case he has to come quick.  The kitchen is inside out with half finished projects, coconut date balls need to be rolled and dipped in coconut, salsa needs to be chopped and bottled, there's milk cooling for yogurt, beans bubbling for tonight's enchiladas, and a sink full of the evidence.  It's at least an hour or two of work, and my labors rarely last that long.  My mind is swimming between before and after. Now, I'm a pregnant mother preparing her family for her postpartum rest. After, I'm on the other side of this great battle called labor.

I've been advised by many to listen to Surah Maryam (the Chapter of Mary) during labor.  It is what fits right now.  I plug in my phone to the speakers.  "Kaf Ha Ya Ain Sad" rings out of the dainty speakers and reverberates through my entire being on such a physical level, that I  grab the counters edge and sink down to the kitchen floor.  The soothing words and rhythm continue to wash over me melding the before and after of this fragile expectant mother.  I am reminded that if I die, I am a martyr, receiving the same spiritual status as a holy warrior.  I weep for a forgiveness I didn't know needed forgiving. It feels like the shedding of a self, one that needs to yield in order for a momentous event to occur.

My son overhears the weeping and asks, "Are you having contractions?"  Yes, I answer him, noting mentally, that no, I haven't felt them since I called my husband half an hour ago, but there is no other explanation for my unraveling in the kitchen, so I do what most mothers do and opt for expediency.  I hear him tell his sister that the baby is coming.  I am once again grounded by my sweet children.  The dates need to be pitted.  I hit 'translate' on the Qur'an app on my phone.  The ayah (verse) that is playing at that moment, that pops into my phone's screen, is like a Divine answer to my misgivings, "So eat and drink and be contented".  My heart swells with belief, and I am back on the staircase weeping.  Allah is al-Hayy, the Living, I am not alone in this undertaking.  The kitchen can wait, I finish listening to the surah before resuming my work.   I imagine that this is what a soldier feels like before battle, humbled ego, and steadied heart.

After having three labors, there are some individual patterns that can be etched out.  I can now say that not only does my water break before my labors, but that it does so at the beginning of the morning prayer.  It's an odd pattern, but I like it.

I'm lying in bed as my husband is rousing for fajr, when a contraction hits me so hard, I reach out for his arm.  And then with a great release, the soothing warmth of amniotic fluid gushes between my legs, a message from the other side, my babies habitat for the past nine months revealed.  Instantly,  I am shivering and moaning through contractions.  It's odd to be a midwife and a mother in labor.  The contrast between the head and the heart is somehow clearer.  I'm noting from a distant place, that I am in transition, right now.  I tell my husband to call the midwife, but tell her not to come, the heart is wanting privacy.  I am playing that mind game that mothers in labor play.  We tell ourselves that this is only the beginning in order to have mental stamina for the end, and in some ways, labor really is only the beginning.

The morning prayers are said, and we are descending the staircase so these moans of "Ooooopppppeeennn" do not wake the sleeping children.  By the time we make it to our living room, the birth room, I am nauseous and hot.  I want a wet washcloth, and a woman's knowing touch.  My beloved midwife lives less than a mile away.  "Call her", I tell my devoted husband who is fumbling with the birth tub pump.  She answers and says, I'm already on my way, did we think she was waiting for another call?  Oh midwives, the good ones capture that difficult place between knowing and unknowing with such skill and wit.

I am sending each contraction into circles of movement, from hips to cervix.  I can't imagine not circling my hips. "Ya Latif", O Gentle One, I mutter weaving this sentiment into these circles.  I am connected to my Muslim sisters from Afghanistan to Senegal, who have uttered this Divine name through their contractions for centuries.  They become my companions through these giant, urgent waves.  I can do this too.

The birth tub is inflated, but dry, as I am feeling the first urges to push.  There is no time to fill it.  I have never done this without the tub and I am nervous.   How do I push outside of the tub?   The answer soon becomes clear, you just do.  Twenty minutes later, my nine pound baby boy is born.  We have named him Ya Sin, a name without direct meaning, yet fraught with Divine mysteries and meanings.  It is what I felt throughout this pregnancy, and the earliest twinges of  labor, a knowing beneath the surface, that if trusted and sought, will open up worlds of understanding.  May Allah bless him, and all babies and mothers everywhere. Our children truly are here to teach us, from their conception, to adulthood.  I am grateful to learn.

Post Note: We wanted to say a special thank you to our other stellar midwife Lael, who not only made the birth hours before leaving on vacation, but brought us a dozen eggs from her chicken to nourish us and continue the cycle.

What Gets the Baby In...A Birth Story

"What gets the baby in, gets the baby out"

-Ina May Gaskin - founder of modern American midwifery

"...sexuality is a whole.  The same hormones are involved in the different episodes of sexual life such as intercourse, childbirth, and lactation....The final phase of each sexual event is always an 'ejection reflex': sperm ejection reflex, foetus ejection reflex, milk ejection reflex. 

-Michel Odent from The Farmer and the Obstetrician

I was awoken at around 2 am by a phone call from Kim (you can read her awesome rendition of giving birth here)  Expecting her second baby any day, I was waiting for her phone call.  

"I couldn't sleep so I had sex.  After we were done, my contractions started coming every five minutes.  I swear, I wasn't trying to bring on labor!"  Kim laughingly told me. I listened through a couple of contractions then told her to change positions, maybe try a shower and call me in half an hour to see if things slowed down, or picked up, or what.  I was thinking that things would peter out after her hormones calmed down.  Oh, how I love to be proven wrong.

My somewhat rule is that if the dad calls you during labor, it's go time.  About twenty minutes later, the phone rang.  Mike's Irish lilt turning serious told me that things were picking up and it looked like labor.  I could hear Kim moaning through a contraction in the background. Wonderful!  I told him to call the doula, and that I would get myself and my things together and head over.   

As  I was approaching the lights and wonder that is crossing the Bay Bridge in the wee hours, the doula called.  My other somewhat rule (because can birth really have rules?) is that if the doula calls, I better step on it.  Britt informed me that Kim was indeed active and that they just wanted to make sure that I was on my way.  Yes, I was, ten minutes I said.  I went as fast as feels safe over a bridge and through city streets.  

It was a lovely night to be born, a chill, crisp March evening.  Entering Kim's birth space was truly magical.  Kim is an artist. She makes each and every thing she does an act of beauty, creation, and meaning.  From our first visit her birth space and how it looked was of utmost importance to her and her husband.  She came through.  The tub had been moved into their living space. Candles, with inspiring collages and quotes from Kim's myriad friends, filled the room with love and light.  Music, which I never would have pegged as birth music, but suited the moment perfectly livened the mood.  Kim was on the bed hands and knees.  I threw my things down to say hello and have a quick listen.  As soon as I did that Kim let out a deep, sonorous yet guttural sound signalling that the power of birth was moving through her. My midwife ears heard it and I peeked at her perineum, indeed it was bulging with a soul determined to take it's place in the family, and soon!  

Kim made it clear that she wanted in the tub.  She was so relaxed and in control, yet totally surrendered. She had a vision of her birth, and she was going to make it happen if at all possible.  We moved her into the tub with the head sooo low! It was the perfect ending to a whirlwind labor.  The contractions slowed a wee bit, just in time to wake big sister.  Kim moved to hands and knees in the water.  With a couple of pushes, her son's head was out, witnessed by all in attendance, including her two year old pajama footed daughter.  I reached down to help with the body and sweep him through to mama's waiting arms.

And just like that, it was done, a circle of love completed.  Truly Kim's birth was an illustration that birth is not separate from sexuality, that it draws from it, and intimately relies on it.   It was an honor to see, and a privilege to so clearly observe a truth about women's bodies and their hormones, we are indeed vessels of love. 

Wendell Berry on Birthing Lambs!

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 “When you are new at sheep-raising and your ewe has a lamb, your impulse is to stay there and help it nurse and see to it and all. After a while you know that the best thing you can do is walk out of the barn.” -Wendell Berry as quoted in a recent NYT article.

This quote couldn't describe midwifery more elegantly.  Most of the time the hardest part of our job really is to just "walk out of the barn".  Birth works, babies are born, mamas give birth, just like the moon rises at night and stars set in the morning.  The intense, powerful energies at birth are often contagious and we just want to jump in and soak it up, but it is not meant for us.  Center stage is for the family, we must quietly exit stage left. Unless of course we are needed, but mostly, we can take five, and mother and baby are more than fine.  I love this post at Progressive Parenting about three things we need to stop doing to newborns. Here's a clue, stop Hatting, stop Patting, and stop Chatting! I mean look at that sheep mama above, does she need any help raising her adorable lamb?  It looks like she's got it under control to me!

Mother's Milk Tonic

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Ayurvedic medicine believes that most mothers after giving birth to a baby have an aggravated vata dosha, an element that relates to air and wind.  There are things that aggravate vata, here is a list; irregular routine, staying up late, irregular meals, cold, dry weather, excessive mental work, too much bitter, astringent or pungent food, traveling, and/or injury.   If you ask me, the first three could relate to all mothers, pregnant, postpartum, nursing and beyond!  I have found this Ayurvedically inspired milk tonic to be wonderful, not to mention delicious, in grounding and warming me.

1 cup of whole milk (preferably raw)
5 cardamom pods
4 cloves
1 2-3 inch cinnamon stick
pinch of ground ginger
pinch of nutmeg
1-2 tsp ghee
honey to taste


Add the spices to the milk.  (My husband swears that you have to bite the cardamom pods until the crack in order for them to taste authentic.  So if you want "authentic", bite away.... ) Heat the milk on the stove until it forms bubbles. Take the milk off the stove and strain into a mug.  Add the ghee. The ghee makes it even hotter somehow.  Wait to taste it until it cools slightly.  Add the honey to taste.

The oiliness, warmth, and gentle spices all team up to tame vata imbalances. It is wonderful as a night cap, its spices lingering in your mouth as you drift off, infusing your dreams.  For pregnancy, it is a great source of calcium and healthy fats.  It is wonderful for pregnancy induced insomnia or stress.  For postpartum, it gently  ignites, or shall I say, reignites, the digestive fires while nourishing new mothers.  It is also great for nursing mothers as the spices can be calming to the digestive system and can help cranky  babies.  For mothers with grown babies, or between children, it is a wonderful way to nourish yourself after a long day of raising those babies! 


This post is a part of Monday Mania!

The Big Stretch - A Film Review

The Big Stretch, an Australian DVD, has done what many other childbirth DVD's fail to do - it has given the voice and authority of women, to women rather than experts. Twelve mothers tell how pregnancy, labor and postpartum 'stretched' them physically, emotionally, and spiritually. As a mother myself, I found most of their insights incredibly apt and useful. There are first time mothers, sixth time mothers and everything in between. Although all of them used midwives and had home births (but one, who tells with raw emotion what a hospital transfer was like for her), that is not the point of the video, in fact home birth is never directly mentioned or promoted.

From conception to operating on little sleep, mothering is a reworking of most of our internal structures, literally and metaphorically. It takes a lot of you to welcome another being into the world. As one woman said in the film, " I feel like I just went from being a girl to being a woman." That's a beautiful and desirous thing. For it's straight talk on labor pains, breastfeeding, and postpartum emotions, I recommend this for first time moms. For the real anxieties associated with subsequent mothering (will I be able to do it?, how will the other kids cope?), I recommend this for experienced moms.

The setting is lush, green and tropical, fertile actually - an appropriate setting for a film on birthing women! There is a lot of nudity in the film, nudity that doesn't have to do with birthing women. I'm not sure the reason for this, maybe the tropical environment. Or maybe it was to push the limits of the viewer, to 'stretch' our boundaries so to speak, which is something this film does quite well. The Big Stretch forces women to step into the shoes of mothers and walk with them for a spell, listen to their fears and triumphs, laugh and marvel at what they become, and in so doing, honor what we as mother's can also become; stretched, still ourselves, but larger, languid, and less rigid.

Feed Play Love - Free Teleconference

Feed, Play, Love, a free teleconference on parenting touching on the feeding, playing, and loving of children. I have just listened to Kim John Payne's lecture. His advice includes that when in difficulty, or feeling overwhelmed with our children, we should think back to the pregnant pause, the third trimester and the still, slow first few weeks of their birth to conjure once again, all of the dreams and possibilities we imagined for our family. Birth is the beginning of parenting. There are other great lectures from Sharifa Oppenheimer on the Essential Necessity of Play, and Dr Heather Manley, a naturopath, who outlines an Imaginative Adventure Through the Immune System - a way to talk to children about health. Enjoy!!

Newborn Needs

When my son was about four weeks old, one of my favorite uncles came to visit. I was feeling stronger and excited to show off my new bonny boy! I took him to one of my favorite Afghan restaurants. What a mistake, it was so loud, bright, and busy in there! I had never noticed this before and my son was not having it. He screamed at the top of his little lungs until I walked him outside back and forth, back and forth, weaving lullabies into the cool night air. Meanwhile, my husband and uncle were talking about all sorts of interesting topics, undisturbed by the heavy handed kitchen staff, or the glare of the overhead lights. This was the first of a slow learned lesson, restaurants and our baby did not mix.

I later came across a possible explanation. Ayurveda believes that mothers are in a state of psycho-physiological transition for six weeks after the birth of their child. That after pregnancy, birth, and lactating, the first six weeks their system is transitioning back to a new normal. It is such a rapid and profound time of growth and change, that nothing really matches it. Except the rate of growth and change in a newborn. When I experienced the loudness, brightness and bustle of the restaurant, something that had not occurred to me before (and to be fair, not after my kids are older either), I was simply in tune with my baby. Newborns need stillness, quiet, softness, love. Restaurants might offer the latter, but rarely any of the rest.

It is important for both mother and baby to honor this need for stillness, rest, and beauty. It can be done in all birth settings. Recently, I came across a beautiful example of a mother going to extraordinary lengths to create this for her newborn. Meg, of the Sew Liberated blog, knew that her second son Lachlan was going to be born with a heart condition that would require nearly immediate surgery upon birth. It would require him to be in the NICU (neo-natal intensive care unit) and separated physically from her. Well, this crafty and beauty loving mama, did not let that stop her. She hatched a plan to bring softness, black and white prints, breezy mobiles, and warmth to her son. You can read about her post, Every Baby Deserves Beauty -Thoughts of a Heart Mom, and then check out the lovely Lachlan, surrounded by softness and warmth here. Having spent my fair share of time in NICU's with babies, I know that all of this effort must have muffled much of the noise and beeping that incessantly happens in these units. The babies who need the most quiet to grow and thrive get the least of it. I hope Meg's example inspires others to take control of their baby's surroundings from day one!

The following quote from Cynthia Aldinger founder of LifeWays North America powerfully sums up the needs of a newborn. By taking care of newborns in this way, we will be meeting the needs of ourselves as mothers as well. Say no to the restaurants, the trip to Target, the mall, wherever. Bring sunlight and nature into your space. Celebrate your baby's stillness and tranquility, in stillness and tranquility.

" However, I do want to say something about the first three months. Some refer to it as the fourth trimester, and I feel it is worth noting that it is a time that is completely different from the development we see taking place in the months following. If it were possible to wrap an extra layer of care around these little newborns, that would be wonderful. As a kangaroo mother keeps the newborn in her pouch, I wish we could provide more protection around the child from birth to three months. If you have ever been in a situation where you have had to adjust to an abrupt change in your life, perhaps that experience can build compassion for the newborn’s adjustment from womb life to outer life. Even more than the adjustment from womb to world, I feel it behooves us to consider the transition the individual is making from spirit to matter. Imagine being pure spirit, held in the arms of the angels, so to speak, surrounded by heavenly sounds, then being tucked into the womb for nine months with its own special sounds and warming rhythms, then emerging into the mechanistic, materialistic, ever-moving and somewhat cold and loud world of modern life. Certainly nurses, midwives and many parents know that swaddling helps to mitigate the dramatic change in physical existence for the newborn. If we could imagine taking similar protective measures in regards to the type of lighting, the sounds, and the activities to which they are exposed, most particularly in the first six weeks, gradually expanding their worldly experience over time, that would be a real gift."

Radical Homemakers

As a midwife one gets lots of phone calls, quick questions, and requests from pregnant women. Mostly, these women are not my clients. They ask about how to turn their baby, does their weight gain sound normal, what's a gestational diabetes test, etc....Most of these questions don't come from my clients because we discuss these things, they are out in the open, transparent for the both of us to grapple with and resolve. The fears of a pregnant woman are nothing to be dismissed, in fact the further they are buried, the more likely they are to rear their ugly head at inopportune moments (i.e. labor). It often leaves me wondering how as a people we have become so out of touch with the flowering and bearing fruit of our species. Or perhaps we know too much, the technologies peeking into hypothetical drawers not meant for our eyes. Once opened though, we can't forget the drawers contents. In the past did women really worry about 'back labor' in their fifth month of pregnancy? Did midwives need an ultrasound machine to tell them which way the baby was facing? Who had a scale?!



I found a piece of the answer in Shannon Hayes's book, Radical Homemakers. In it she talks about how so many of our basic skills and economies have been usurped by corporations thereby swapping what she dubs 'a life serving economy' for ' an extractive economy'. She implores us to switch back. What is midwifery if not life serving? Do I dare say that obstetrics(think almost a 35% national cesarean rate) is extractive in the true sense of the word?! I found Hayes's book compelling. It offered reasons why so many women who choose the cookie cutter model of obstetrical care are often the ones calling me with burning unanswered questions. Like food, clothing and even education, the art and science of obstetrics has been co-opted by economic interests. Discussing with a woman how to possibly influence her GBS status, how to avoid a posterior labor, or even what constitutes a good baby growing diet, would not serve an extractive economy. It would take too much time and wouldn't pay so well.




When I get these queries from women who often see a new doctor at each visit, I feel for them. They are not blossoming from the care they are receiving.Rather their trust in themselves and their bodies, is literally being extracted. Doubt often creeps in. Midwifery on the other hand is life sustaining for both mother and midwife. It is a personal relationship with someone in your community who shops at the same grocery stores you do, who breathes the same air, plays at the same parks. This is the soil upon which new life is brought forth. It begins with a family and folds into community. It is an honest relationship brokered on trust. Just like we are discovering that local food is superior in terms of quality, environmental impact, and even taste, I hope that sentiment spreads to mothers and babies. Look for local, sustainable midwives and birth. Build a real community for your baby from day one.



Radical Homemaker is a fascinating read with lots of history of how we got to where we are in terms of a largely consumer society rather than producing to meet most of our needs. Here are some quotes I liked from the Radical Homemaker:

• ..."the homemaker who simply learns to cook dinner, keep a garden, and patch blue jeans will probably not find deep fulfillment, either. Those who do not seriously challenge themselves with a genuine life plan, with the intent of taking a constructive role in society, will share the same dangers as the housewives who suffered under the mystique of feminine fulfillment; they face what Freidan called a "nonexistent future".

• "In order to revive our culture and create a vibrant society that does not depend on a consumer driven and ecologically rapacious economy, more of us need to look homeward to create a life-nurturing alternative."

• "The simplest and most sensible start for Radical Homemakers departing the extractive economy and building the life serving economy were the elemental practices of thrift, frugality and debt avoidance....The defining principles: are including everyone in the economic picture; capitalizing on available resources; minimizing waste; becoming net producers of goods rather than net consumers; bartering; spending money where it matters most; and understanding the concepts of "enough".

• "Healing remedies were once standard knowledge for homemakers, right up until the industrial revolution"

Simplicity Parenting

Recently, we took a trip to visit all sorts of grandparents - grandmothers, step grandfathers, and even a few 'greats'. We hadn't been back for quite some time, and so let's just say, the grandparents made up for lost time. The closets looked like children's clothing stores, every day was a new toy, every sugary treat wish fulfilled, and macaroni and cheese whenever it was desired. Needless to say, we filled a large SUV with, well, stuff. It was touching, but also stressful transferring and keeping track of it all. Not to mention the constant whines and request for 'more', I constantly found myself longing for less.



Ironically, I had picked up this book, "Simplicity Parenting" by Kim John Payne right before we left. His book details ways to reduce the over stimulation our culture provides for children. Each day we were living out his theories about what happens to children when there are too many toys, clothes, or even, food choices. They become stressed and depleted. The constant stimulation renders them bored and restless, always on the lookout for the next stimulation. The ensuing almost daily meltdowns on the trip took shape and meaning while reading Payne's book.


We started the trip in Minneapolis and drove the four (or five, who's counting?) days back to California, or in other words, we started in snow, and yes, we ended in snow. Lake Tahoe had just settled into a two foot snowfall when we drove through. Who can resist the gleaming powder and balmy air of a California snow, not us. We didn't have the slides we had in Minnesota, but we had our hands and we rolled out some nice snowballs and snowmen. And what was the most memorable part of the trip, (besides the lovely grandparents), not the myriad toys and their bells and whistles, but from midland to the coast, it was, the snow.





I am grateful for the gifts, but after reading this, I think that next time I might offer suggestions for gifts before arriving, including ones with less batteries, and fewer buttons. Payne's suggestions regarding toys is priceless. He also really stresses a routine and rhythm as an antidote for our hectic world. A daily dinner time, eaten together as a family, a bedtime routine, and one quarter of the toys you already possess (yes, not just half, half of that). Suggestions like candlelight at bedtime, sharing favorite things from the day at the dinner table, and all in all, simplifying the schedules of the children make so much sense and he makes them doable. It's like attachment parenting for the older child. I've included some of my favorite quotes from the book below. Enjoy!



"A protected childhood allows for the slow development of identity, well being, and resiliency."



"Behavioral tendencies can be soothed or relaxed by creating calm." (In addressing ADD and other behavioral disturbances)



"When your child seems to deserve affection least, that's when they need it most" (I now tell myself this at least once a day;)



"Committing to rhythm builds trust and relational credits: a connection that is "bankable"


"Rhythms are like a place set for you at the table. An unquestioned invitation to participate, connect and belong"

Dua (Supplications) for Pregnancy, Labor and Conception

This has been going around lately, but I thought some of you might benefit. Unfortunately, I'm not sure who put it together so I can't give credit where it's due. For those of you who don't know the Arabic terms, apologies! I should probably put a glossary on here somewhere, but for now if you have any questions just ask. Enjoy!


Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem



Here is a brief list of various things that we were told to recite and do during pregnancy and labour.



Please pass it on for anyone who you feel may benefit from it.








Daily

- Surah Inshiqaq (Surah 84) – to be recited daily throughout the pregnancy

- Surah Luqman (Surah 31) – to be recited daily during the 1st trimester when the baby’s brain, mental faculties and nervous system are developing

- Surah Yusuf (Surah 12) – to be recited in the 2nd trimester when the child’s physical appearance is forming

- Surah Maryam (Surah 19) – to be recited in the 3rd trimester as labour approaches

- “Ya Lateef” – to be recited 129 times every morning and evening









7th month only

- The husband should recite Surah Inshirah (Surah 94) 152 times on the baby









Labour

- The first ayat of Surah al-Fath’ (Surah 48)

- “Ya Lateef”

- Surah Maryam (Surah 19)

- Surah Inshirah (Surah 94)

- “As salaam Alaikum ayuha-nabee wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu”









General advice

- Shaykh Muhammad Ba Shu’ayb once advised, for the sake of any children we are to have to recite all our adhkar and awrad everyday and to ensure that we pray as many prayers in congregation with our spouse.

- Read as much Quran as possible.

- Try and do as much salawat on the Prophet (saw) as possible – in particular Salat al-Tunjina’ and “As salaam Alaikum ayuha-nabee wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu”

- As babies are said to be able to recognise certain sounds and music from their time in the womb, reading certain texts such as the “Book of Assistance” by Imam al-Haddad, is advised in order to bring about recognition.

- One of the Habaib advised pregnant women to look at pictures of the Ka’aba when she was too tired to actively engage in ibada.









For those trying to conceive children

Habib Umar has recommended…

- Recite Surah Fatiha (Surah 1) 41 times in between the sunnah and fard of Fajr prayer.

- Recite verse 38 of Surah Imran (Surah 3) as many times a day as possible.

Another Homebirth Video

The Homebirth of Lucia Mae from Sara Janssen on Vimeo.

This video has some darling , colorful pictures. I love the portrayal of the daughter's role in her sister's birth. It is also a testimony to the family's affection for their midwife, she's like a part of the family! To read more on the lasting impression a midwife makes through a woman's lifetime (i.e. beyond the childbearing years), check this out, Midwifery Care: Reflections of Midwifery Clients. Be sure to download the full text.

What Luke Said

Home births don't always happen at home. On average around 10% of attempted home births end in the hospital. This is the story of one such birth and the feelings and raw emotion such a transfer can evoke. This acute disappointment and sense of failure is the domain of women who attempt natural birth and don't end up with one. They are the brave ones, the ones who risk, struggle, go out on a limb, and after their labor, in this case two days of it, end up in the place they had hoped to avoid. Unlike women who intend a hospital birth and well, end up with one, women who attempt a home birth and then end up in the hospital have the extra burden of processing what went 'wrong'. Another curve on the long road of motherhood.



Maceo was my client. She is an example of the intelligent and thoughtful women who choose out of hospital birth. A talented writer and warm presence, she brought joy to her pregnancy and was one of the rare women who enjoyed the pregnancy more and more as her belly swelled, all the way up to and past her due date! She will always have a special place in my heart as after my own baby was born, in her fifth month of pregnancy, she brought me delicious Cuban food and her cheery presence. We measured her belly on my couch with my two week old sleeping nearby. During her first night of contractions, I slid my sleeping daughter into the car, and drove the mile to Maceo's house, my daughter never waking the entire night. This type of shared motherhood is the glue of friendship and community. Thank you Maceo!



So without further ado, here is a re-posting from Maceo's own blog, Dripping River Water, which of course, you all must go subscribe to right now, as I'm sure there is much forthcoming mama wisdom from this source! And welcome to the sweetest Omar!

There is a table in the lobby. It is long and wooden positioned right below a big mirror. There people leave things they no longer want: old fax machines, magazines, sneakers, books. I am the resident manager and this leaving of things annoys me only when no one takes it. I am left to throw away these items. Things that could have easily been given as a donation, somewhere else, not in the lobby of my building. There was a pocket sized New Testament once. I picked it up. This is a book I couldn’t throw out, I couldn’t leave it on the sidewalk, I couldn’t give it to a random person. I had to keep it and for a year it lived between my Moroccan Arabic Phrasebook and El diccionario de sinonimos y antonimos bought in Venezuela when I was there in 1996.

My son is now 5 weeks old. He has lived his days between arms of those who love him. I have only been away from him minutes at a time, missing him and calling my mami to see how he is doing. Yesterday I went for a walk with my friend. I left my mami with 5 ozs of my milk. I gave her instructions and hoped that it wouldn’t be too hard for either of them. The sun was out. Its rays hit my toes. There was a chill in shady areas. I was afraid to catch a cold. I thought of myself confined in my bedroom pumping milk, sweating and sick, not able to see my son.

We went to Arizmendi. I was treated to pizza and a root beer sitting outside. I watched the beautiful people of Oakland pass by. I saw the mamas pushing the strollers or carrying their babies on their backs. I saw the dogs. The endless amount of dogs take over the sidewalk. I wondered if my skin would darken sitting outside of Arizmendi. I have been home for weeks looking out the living room windows at the trees and the birds. The root beer was good. It became my new favorite. There on the table was the cap. It had writing. In the inside it read, Luke 1:37. I thought the root beer bottling was more hipster than religious. Or maybe it was both.

For the past five weeks I have only written in my head. I write books and plays while I nurse my son in his sleep. I wish that the words would leave my mind and walk unto the page. Any page. Somewhere else. But the words don’t. They are locked away and I wonder if I will be able to write. Then I read stories of writers who have shared similar nights. Perhaps not nursing their sons but still in bed writing words on the walls with their pupils.

For the past five weeks I have begun learning what it is to be a mother. I have learned what it is to remain still, to be totally dependent. There is a scar above my bikini line. It is black and sometimes it is sore. All throughout my pregnancy I was pleased not to have any stretch marks. Instead I got a scar where they pulled my baby out. That scar reminds me of my imperfections and my failures.

I wonder sometimes why I couldn’t give birth at home. Sometimes I have a hard time completing things. The end is always so hard. I go through my over fifty hours of labor at home and four days in the hospital. I try to figure out what exactly went wrong. I know everything is God’s will but somehow I feel at a loss. I wonder if somewhere in back of my mind I was too scared to finish the job. I couldn’t give birth naturally in a birthing tub, in my kitchen because it meant I actually had to complete something. I needed help. Like heavy drugs to soothe me, to make me relax, to actually fall asleep. I went to the hospital, a place I still don’t want to give birth in again. They helped me. I had sweet nurses who gave me more pillows and filled my water bottle. I knew that with a touch of button someone would be at my side. So the whole time I had to not be upset. I had to take everything in stride because I had my baby in my arms. And if I got frustrated at the nurses constantly coming in and asking me the same questions, at them grabbing my breasts without asking me anything to see if my milk was coming out, at my son being picked up all hours of the night to be weighed, I would have made it worse for myself and I would have been ungrateful. I still have to write about that. All of that. But I am afraid that it will make me cry.

On my bedside table there is a tube of Barq’s root beer lip balm. I don’t like that root beer but I like the taste on my lips. I put it on last night before getting into bed. Then I remembered. Luke 1:37. I went to the living room to the shelf where the pocket size New testament lived. I took it into bed. My husband perplexed. I have not read the Qur’an in weeks and here I was with the Bible. I opened it to Luke right away. There I read: “For with God nothing will be impossible.”

Sighs and smiles.

the end.

Nursing on Both Sides

And because I love this life

I know I shall love death as well.

The child cries out when

From the right breast the mother

Takes it away, in the very next moment

To find in the left one

Its consolation.


-Rabindranath Tagore
from Gitanjali

Mother Roasting

Please check out my article entitled, "Mother Roasting" at Rhythm of the Home's fabulous and inspiring online parenting/craft magazine. My article contains a how-to on preparing a nurturing postpartum gift basket, or experience for you or a friend. It also speaks a bit about postpartum practices worldwide, where warmth and nourishing of new mothers and babies is an art form.

There are some intriguing articles and craft tutorials from this season's edition that I can't wait to dive into. If you've been directed here from Rhythm of the Home, welcome and thanks for visiting!

The Womb and Mercy

Some of my Ramadan reading has entailed the above, The Tao of Islam by Sachiko Murata. It is only through the materially deprived yet,spiritual uplifting state of fasting, that I can even hope to make sense of most of this book. She uses the Taoist formulation of yin and yang as a lens to look at Islam's theology around gender relations. It's fascinating. She has a most amazing chapter entitled, "The Womb." One of Allah's 99 names, ar-Rahman, or the Most Merciful one is closely related to the word for 'womb' in Arabic. There is so much depth and reflection on that alone, but for one more qualified than I! I wish to leave you with a few quotes relating ,of course to pregnancy, birth and mothers, all of which can be a wide opening into understanding the nature of the One who created.




There are four main sayings by the Prophet Muhammad, called hadith in Arabic, regarding the womb, which Murata uses towards the end of the chapter to exemplify the relationship between the nature of women, and Allah's Mercy. One of these that I particularly like is:

"God said, 'I am God and I am the All-merciful. I created the womb and gave it a name derived from My own name. Hence, if someone cuts off the womb, I will cut him off, but if someone joins the womb, I will join him to Me'"

The following passage on the station of mothers, was aid by Ali ibn al-Husayn, the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad.

"The right of your mother is that you know that she carried you where no one carries anyone, she gave to you of the fruit of her heart that which no one gives to anyone, and she protected you with all of her organs. She did not care if she went hungry as along as you ate, if she was thirsty as long as you drank, if she was naked as long as you were clothed, if she was in the sun as long as you were in the shade. She gave up sleep for your sake, she protected you from heat and cold, in order that you might belong to her. You will not be able to show her gratitude, unless through God's help and giving success." (pg 213)

In reflecting on gestation and birth and how it relates to the grave and death, and the life after this, Sachiko Murata writes:

"Human beings develop in the womb in a manner that parallels the order followed by God in creating the macrocosm. In the womb the infant grows to completion and reaches deliverance by dying to the womb in order to be born into the world. In the world the human being grows to spiritual perfection and reaches deliverance through death to this world and birth into the next."

In keeping in this vein of reflecting on birth in this life with birth in the next, Murata quotes a Rumi poem. Here, he is comparing pregnancy and birth to a death, and encouraging us to live by the quote of Ali to "Die before you die", this of course, referring to the death of the ego. Like labor, this is an incredible challenge on all levels.

"Although the mother suffers the pain of childbirth, the embryo breaks out of prison.

The woman weeps at the birth: "Where is the refuge?" The child laughs: "Deliverance has come!"

Until mothers feel the pain of childbirth, the child finds no way to be born.

The Trust is within the heart and the heart is pregnant: all the exhortations of the saints act as a midwife.

The midwife says, "The woman has no pain. Pain is necessary, for it will open a way for the child."

I hope these quotes inspire you in these waning days of Ramadan. Please remember me and my family in your prayers!

Blessed Births and Beginnings

Motherhood by bagath makka

My Ramadan post has taken a back seat to, well, my Ramadan! Next year God willing, I will post something! In the meantime, I have found a lecture, again by Shaykh Abdul Hakim Murad, on motherhood. He talks about many of the mothers mentioned in the Quran, the mother of Moses, Mary, and others, and mentions the significance of this. That each time we speak about greatness, we mention the mother, and that this in turn deserves an immense amount of respect. He mentions that starting with birth, a mother is given blessings; that with each contraction she is given the reward of freeing a slave. Each contraction! One reason to be grateful for a long labor! If you are celebrating Ramadan this year, I pray that it is one of enormous benefit to you and your family. Look for more frequent posting in a couple of weeks!

A Noisy Postpartum

crying-baby by bbuanach



After I had my daughter, my midwife checked both of us out, and satisfied with the health of me and my girl, tucked us snuggly into bed to rest. She then walked down to our local coffee shop and picked everyone up a latte. I got freshly picked wildflowers in lieu of the caffeine. We then proceeded to snack on fresh berries, cheese and crackers while chatting. There was a soft morning breeze blowing through my window and I could hear the pigeons cooing.

That was after my home birth. If I had had a hospital birth, it would've not only looked different, but it would have sounded different. My labor would have been accompanied by at the very least, the thumping rhythm of the fetal monitor, the beep of aforementioned monitor when the paper ran out, and the constant introductions of nurses, doctors, and pediatricians. My postpartum room most likely would have been shared with another mother, who may or may not have had a slew of visitors, and who may or may not have had a penchant for television watching. And again, there would be a new face and name introducing itself, at least every 12 hours or so. The coffee would have been terrible, and the flowers an elevator's ride away.

That's to mention nothing of the cries of not only my baby, but possibly my roommates baby too. Recent findings are now claiming that the noise of the hospital can be detrimental to health, not to mention recovery from birth. Take a look at this brilliant study and analysis of the decibel level of labor and delivery, and postpartum units in American hospitals. I love her idea of a postpartum lounge for new mothers to congregate in after they birth their babies. Although, I think even this might be a bit much for new mothers - it takes a considerable amount of energy to interact with strangers, especially in the precious moments after one has a baby. Still, I think that her nod towards other postpartum cultural practices, and their strict emphasis on calm, quiet, and rest for the new mother and baby, is an important and lacking one here in America. For most women here, it's back to 'normal' at about seven days postpartum. In contrast look at these practices from around the world.

• In Sudan mothers are treated to 40 days of rest, and beautification, treatment very similar to what a new bride in Sudan receives. They are served a fenugreek pudding, believed to encourage breast milk production and make one fat, something desired in Sudan! The treatment is thought to allow them to exit their 40 days feeling beautiful and rested.
• In Indonesia, the mother does not enter the kitchen or wash until the umbilical cord has shriveled and fallen. This ensures rest for her. The husband does not sleep for three days as he must guard the mother and baby. How about that for a taste of sleep deprivation for the partner!
• In India trained women come to the house and perform warm oil massages for mother and baby. It is believed to reduce colic in infants and preserve a woman's life long health. They also believe in resting for 40 days. Their are many special foods associated with the postpartum period.
• It is Holland I believe, who takes the cake for postpartum care. There a women receives a kraamverpleegsters, a postpartum nurse, who comes to the house all day long for eight days. This is paid for by the government. She helps with everything from breastfeeding, advising on infant care, to laundry and cooking! She even manages the flow of visitors.

With all of this care, I'd be surprised if a baby ever cried in these countries! I hope that hospital administrators and anyone involved with postpartum mothers, would look at the above examples for inspiration and guidance on how mothers should be valued. Ask any mother what she wants, and I hedge that a good portion of them would say, "Some peace and quiet". Wishing that for you and yours!

Spirituality and Childbirth

Gold Dome Masjid by TeeJe

The Prophet Muhammad is reported to have said that Paradise lies at the feet of your mother.

Much of a woman's allure, is not in the color of her eyes, or coquettish smile, but rather, lies in the layers of tissue, muscle and fat which conceive, nourish and birth her children. It has been written about and allegorized since pen was put to paper, probably even before. Women themselves ponder its meaning and symbol. Rightly so, for it is hard to find a greater sign on this earth of something more powerful, more majestic, more intelligent, than a mother's growing girth and the subsequent perfection of her rose mouthed babe.

Many women find themselves in a more reflective state while gestating their young. Who will this little one look like? Boy or girl? When will the labor begin? How long will it be? Will I be able to breastfeed with success? With so many unknowns it is no wonder that many women turn to a Higher Power to make sense of it all. It is calming and reassuring knowing that with all the uncertainty and upheaval that this new life has brought, that it is the same Power who called its soul forth and into your womb, the One who will bring the contractions, who long ago rendered the gender of your baby, and who has brought many, many women to the other side of this childbearing experience. What a glory to participate in a child's creation!

And now modern science has proven it. A study was recently published in the Journal of Perinatal Education which showed a connection between childbirth and a woman's spirituality. They looked at data collected from 250 culturally diverse women over the past 20 years and concluded that many women experience a richer spiritual experience during the childbearing and mothering experience. Among other things they found:

• Childbirth as a time to grow closer to God.
• The use of religious beliefs and rituals as powerful coping mechanisms
• Childbirth as a time to make religiosity more meaningful
• The significance of a Higher Power in influencing birth outcomes
• Childbirth as a spiritually transforming experience

Based upon their findings, the researchers are recommending that health care practitioners ask their patients, "Do you have any spiritual beliefs that will help us better care for you?" There is no time like the birth of a child to ask that question. I hope that all of the above come true for you dear readers!!

Ina May's Guide to Breastfeeding

I realize that there have been a few breastfeeding posts in a row, but seeing as I'm spending much of my days and nights doing just that, I guess it's on the brain. Recently, I read Ina May's Guide to Breastfeeding. Ina May is a woman's woman. Reading her is like having a chat with your auntie about breastfeeding. She peppers her writing with illuminating anecdotes and funny asides.

Ina May's Guide to Childbirth is famous for its birth stories and one of the best aspects of this book, is it's breastfeeding stories. There are breastfeeding triumphs and losses, long unheard of stories of wet nursing, nursing multiples tales, and more. These are stories that allow women to see that breastfeeding is above all, simple and accessible. It is almost like reading about a different time and place, but these stories all take place in the here and now. Ina May is a student of cultures, and the stories, or "forgotten lore" as she calls them, are no accident. For, it is from lack of these stories in our lives, that Americans have lost so much knowledge of breastfeeding.

The highlight of the book is a chapter entitled "Nipplephobia". It is a brilliant and humorous analysis of why Americans, unlike other cultures, are so uptight about a woman's breasts being used for anything other than sex. This prudishness gives way to a dislike of breastfeeding in general. Nipplephobia is defined, identified, and cured in this chapter. She looks at other cultures and their examples to lead the way towards healing America's nipplephobia. I am especially fond (and I guess somewhat flattered), that towards the end of the chapter she cites examples from Muslim cultures where women who are covered head to toe, still have no trouble breastfeeding their baby, when their baby is hungry. One such example is from a male friend of hers who lived with a group of Bedouins during the '60's. Here is his experience in a culture where women covered head to toe:

"...but what really had an effect on me was the time when one of these Bedouin women raised her robes, exposing her breasts to me as she fed her baby. She acted as if everything were perfectly all right. It was only I who was taken by surprise. I realized that in cultures in which women breastfeed their babies, everyone in that culture grows up seeing breasts being used as they are meant to be. They have a natural attitude toward them. It's only in cultures like ours, where you almost never see a woman breastfeeding, that breasts become the object for something else, usually something to lust after."


She also cites Norway's example of moving towards a pro-breastfeeding culture, and gives reasons why they were able to do so while we weren't. It is a thought provoking chapter. The book as a whole is great with lots of information and tips about breastfeeding in the early days to weaning. The last two chapters, "Shared Nursing, Wet Nursing and Forgotten Lore" and the previously mentioned "Nipplephobia", are what makes this book so unique and memorable.