Daughter

A Postpartum Doula is more than a babysitter

August 25, 2015

As Postpartum Doulas, RMDS offers a lot of care that is typical to the job. Some examples are assisting with breastfeeding, offering education, companionship and nonjudgmental support, offering baby wearing and cloth diapering support, evidence-based information on infant feeding, infant soothing, emotional and physical recovery from birth and coping skills for new parents and making appropriate referrals when necessary. But there are other experiences that Postpartum Doulas have….

-cuddling a sleeping baby and hoping you can make that transition to the crib

-helping baby breastfeed, while mom is sleeping (overnights)

-baby baths

-walking baby stroller on a movie set because mom is in the industry

-washing baby clothes

-playing pokemon cards with a sibling

-making waxing appointments for mom while loading the dishwasher

-rocking a colicky baby all night once a week so mom can get SOME sleep

-sweeping while singing baby beluga to an older sibling

Our role as a postpartum doula is to support a new mother. We do nearly everything (minus yard work and bathrooms!) If that means making her feel supported, comfortable and confident by keeping her precious new baby safe and cared for while Mom goes to the gym, gets her nails done, gets a physical from her care provider, has a nap or shower then that’s what we do. We are trained professionals that have seen many, many babies, understand child development and know the community well for referrals. We are not teenage babysitters that are eating chips and using you for free wifi, we are doing this job to educate the mother and to mother your own intuition.

A mothers story…

October 15, 2014

October 15th is Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness day. I am here to share my story in an attempt to acknowledge a community of men and women who are grieving because they have lost their child or children. There are countless families that have been torn apart by a multitude of unthinkable tragedies. Most of these families are silently grieving on their own; not many people want to open up, or they simply can’t, about their losses. It’s hard. Its really f*cking hard to lose a child. How do you pick up the pieces of your life, when you don’t even really know what is left to look for?

Which brings me to why I feel so passionately. Well, it’s because I am a mother to a child whom I will never see grow up. My daughter, Leia, never got to be one of those lucky babies who, just after birth, gazed into their mommy’s eyes. She never got to see the face that had smiled so often, awaiting her arrival. She never got to take that first breathe, and I never got to hear her first cry. She never got to experience any of the things that her surviving twin sister experienced. She never will. That is because she passed away, just hours before she was born.

This happened just about four months ago. Now, if you asked me how much I knew about stillbirth five months ago, I would have scoffed at you. That is something from the olden days, right? Science and medicine have eliminated the possibility that innocent, precious children could die. Everyone has to have an opportunity to live… right?

So here is my story. It is kind of long, and I promise you, very tragic. I thank you ahead of time for dedicating your time to my cause by reading it. The awareness alone is what I am hopeful for, the emotion that follows is just a solidification of the point I want to make. This is my life.

It was just after Halloween 2013, when found out I was pregnant again. My husband Cody and I had been excited to add a sibling for our two year old son, Indiana. We are both from large families, so the more the merrier!

Nausea was the first symptom. There was an incredible amount of it. It was awful. I remember going in to our doctors office, and after seeing my green face and white lips, she made a joke about how sick I was,

“Twin pregnancy is double the sickness you know!”, har har har.

Twins? Ha! As if we would have twins. But that thought lingered there in the back of our minds… I was sent for my first ultrasound just after New Years- I was twelve weeks along. Our technician sent Cody out into the hall and began the process. I waited anxiously to see our little gummy bear, but she deviously had the screen hidden from me. She made a gasp, followed by,

“is this your first ultrasound?”.

“…uhh, yes…”

“Oh ok.”

Commence the waiting. The whole time I had a running thread of commentary in my brain- why would she gasp? what makes you gasp at an ultrasound? It’s fine. It’s nothing. It’s twins. I bet it twins. Oh my god it’s definitely twins. Why else would she gasp?…

The after her initial inspection of our little bean, the lovely, gasping ultrasound technician then goes to retrieve my husband, and I immediately fill him in on the gasp situation.

Twins, definitely twins, we agree.

When she returns, she asks us if we like surprises.

Ha! Of course we do! …she shows us the screen.

Two little gummy bears. Twins. We knew it. Looking back, we had pretty much know for three weeks. So we start to laugh. Then I started to cry. Then I started to laugh again. It went on like that for a while…

It took a few weeks for the idea of having two babies at the SAME TIME to sink in. Then, once the idea was settled, we became totally immersed in it. It was so exciting to tell every one about them. Our two little beans. Obviously, everyone was excited. You won’t find too many people who aren’t fascinated by the idea of twins. They are miracles! We were suddenly a part of an awesome club that not many people get the opportunity to join.

My pregnancy was going well, aside from my morning sickness and the utter exhaustion (building two babies is incredibly tiring). I survived on bananas and crackers for a while there. We discovered at our next ultrasound that we were expecting mono-chorionic/di-amniotic, or more commonly, identical twins. Now, all twin pregnancy is considered ‘high risk’, but mono/di is particularly so because of the placenta is shared between the two babies. There is a risk of a disease called twin to twin transfusion syndrome. We learned about this pretty early, and as a result we began a lot of monitoring. I had both an obstetrician and midwives, as well as a maternal fetal monitoring specialist doing my biweekly ultrasounds, and a team of nurses doing my weekly non stress tests. I had already had one very successful pregnancy, resulting in a 9lbs 12oz baby boy, this made me a prime candidate for another successful pregnancy. I had hopes to deliver our babies naturally and without intervention. It was a full time job, being pregnant with twins. But I was so well cared for, that I didn’t actually believe that anything could go wrong.

We discovered at 20 weeks that we were having two precious little girls. Sisters for Indy! So began the collection of girls things. So. Much. Pink. It was hard not to be excited about having two adorable daughters that I would be able to dress up and adorn. We often imagined what they would look like. I was nervous about mixing them up, being exactly the same and all, so I had little name bracelets made for each of them. Ripley and Leia. Baby A and baby B. I began to distinguish their different personalities by how they interacted in my ever growing belly, and I made different color associations with each girl. Ripley was pink and orange, Leia was purple and green. I began to coordinate everything this way, their diaper covers, clothes, blankets. It was part of my nesting. There was just so much to be excited for, it was hard to stop preparing. I bought a triple stroller when I was barely out of my first trimester. I joined countless Mothers of Multiples groups, and actively participated in making friendships with other twin mamas. I loved the reaction I would get when I told curious strangers that I had TWO babies in there, I loved their incredulous looks the most. I began to plan for all the incredible things I had to look forward to, and I was fully accepting of the difficulties that I knew I would face, having three kids under the age of three. Even if I had a doubt, I brushed it off, because this is what I was now- a mom of a toddler and twins, and damnit I would be a great at it!

Fast forward through almost nine months of this exhausting yet elated pregnancy to the morning of Monday, June 30th.

I said goodbye to my husband Cody, leaving him at home with our son Indy, and I headed to the hospital for my scheduled non stress test. I was looking forward to my appointment afterwards with my obstetrician. We had plans to discuss a possible day for my induction. I had been feeling strange that morning though, and hoped that maybe the girls would come naturally, and soon. I was nearly 38 weeks, which is full term for twins.

So, I get to the hospital and lay back on the cozy bed in the ante-partum clinic. One of my regular nurses comes to help me set up with the monitors. She has some trouble, as she usually does, trying to find both girls’ heart rates through my big belly. It’s tough when you have one squirmy baby, let alone two, to keep still long enough to record. I started to feel apprehensive about things. My nurse was feeling the same, so she summoned another nurse to help find Leia’s heart rate. Ripley’s recording was already steadily beeping away on the monitor. Again, trouble. The new nurse, Susan, then told me she was going to ask the on call OB to do an ultrasound. My heart was racing more than usual. This had never happened at the countless NST’s I had had previously. Come on Leia, I thought to myself. Please just be hiding under Ripley. Please. After a lot of hurried texting to Cody, the OB arrived. He seemed very casual, and unconcerned. He wheeled in the ultrasound machine, and chatted about his brothers vacation, which he was obviously jealous of. I was anxious. He sat on the end of the bed and began the ultrasound. I could see what was happening, as I was familiar with ultrasounds from the twenty or so amount I had already had. But unlike my typical chatty technician telling me what’s what, he was quiet. Then, with my heart about to explode with anxiety, he leans across the bed and says the words I never imagined I could hear, nor will I ever forget…

“This baby has passed.”

What. What. What do you mean?

That was about when I went into shock.

My heart should have exploded from the pace it was beating at. I couldn’t feel my fingers, or my arms or legs. My skin felt like it was floating on me. I went cold. My mind couldn’t actually compute what he had just said.

“Your baby has passed away, and we need to do surgery to get your other baby out.” He said this somewhere in reality, and I could overhear it through the haze of my shock.It was as if a switch had flicked, around me chaos was unraveling. I was being asked random questions here and there, I was answering them unknowingly. The on call OB was on the phone with my regular OB suddenly, orchestrating a Caesarean section for me. He explained that if we didn’t do the operation, my other daughter would be at risk for brain damage, or worse, death. What. No. This is wrong. This kind of thing doesn’t happen! I didn’t have the mental capacity at the time to ask questions or find answers. I mean, I was in shock so intense I am not even sure how I remember everything with such detail. I suppose its my mind trying not to forget any of the details of her, Leia, even the bad ones. Anyways, I luckily had enough sense to call Cody and tell him to get to the hospital. He knew that they were having trouble finding Leia’s heart rate, from my texting early, but I hadn’t had the nerve to tell him on the phone what the OB had just told me. I didn’t want to say it out loud, and shatter my husband’s world the way this doctor had just upended mine. So I told him to come ASAP, I was getting a csection. Not only that, but I they were operating as soon as my OB arrived at the hospital- a half hour at max. Cody was on his way. Then I started my rapid succession of messages to every person I loved and I needed to be with me. Come to RCH. That’s all they said. I don’t know how many of those people were excited, or happy or encouraged reading those messages. Only to arrive and realize what was actually happening. The world was literally falling apart around me, and I was forced to keep my shit together long enough to gather the support I needed to help me get through. I really didn’t know at the time, but I was laying the groundwork of support I would need to get me through the hardest phase of my life.

There I was, still laying on the hospital bed, rapidly text messaging, in a room of probably very terrified mothers-to-be, listening to all of this unfold. (I wonder how many of them are aware of October 15th now?) I had an array of nurses rushing around, undressing and redressing me in surgery apparel. I saw my regular nurse, Susan, the one whom had been monitoring me the past months. I asked her to hold my hand. She did. The look on her face said it all.

This was really happening, and she was the first person to truly appreciate the world that was crashing down around me.

I was then pushed down the hall way, texting Cody all the while. I was aware of everything, in my semi-floating body, but in such a state of shock I was cracking jokes. I started sending Cody photos of what I was wearing and where in the hospital I was. I still have those photos. They are a huge emotional trigger for me, for obvious reasons.

It was surreal. The operating room was like a scene from a movie. I texted Cody up until the moment before they knocked me out. I remember the feeling of the anesthesiologists fingers on my throat; I felt as if I were being choked into blackness. Then nothing. For two hours, I was asleep while they operated and then sent me to recovery. Our beautiful twin daughters were born at 10:58 and 10:59 am. Ripley apparently screamed her way into the world, and Leia silently sleeping, never to be awoken. By this time, most of our families had arrived to the hospital, most of them probably very confused. I don’t know what was happening with everyone else from the time they knocked me out until the time I woke up, but I remember waking up. That was the worst feeling of my life. Waking up, instantly knowing that my daughter was dead. Knowing that I did nothing to save her. Knowing that it was my body that had failed her. I remember crying harder than I ever have. I cried out for them to bring her to me, only to be told they can’t support newborns in this wing. They didn’t know what had happened- what I was going through. The pain was so acute. My body had literally been split open to save my still living daughter. My incision was on fire. I felt despair. A feeling so devastated, so low. My heart was falling down, down through a never ending black hole. The air was sucked from my lungs. I couldn’t breathe through the grief. And I was alone. I wanted nothing more than to see and hold Leia. I wanted to save her. I believed that I could save her, if only I could hold her. Every minute physically away from her was one more that I wouldn’t be able to bring her back with. I experienced every stage of grief at the same time that morning. Just writing this makes me want to vomit; the details will never dull in my memory. In the span of a few hours, I had lost a daughter who meant the world to me, and welcomed another who’s safe arrival was tainted by the death of her sister.

Unfathomable. That’s what I would have said, if you told me this happens to people, before I experienced it. Unfathomable.

But it is a reality. It’s my reality. Almost four months have passed now, from that day. I am still grieving the loss of my beautiful daughter, and I imagine I will be for the rest of my life. I go through waves of grief, sometimes I feel incredibly normal and unchanged, as if I have forgotten what has occurred. Then something as simple as seeing my other daughter smile, will trigger me and I fall into the pain as deep as ever. I have learnt to manage my emotion, as that is the best thing I can do. I can’t forget it, nor can I erase what has happened. I will always have to manage my life and perception of life around the tragedy that is Leia’s death. I have to do all of this while raising my children, and loving my husband, and growing stronger as a human being.

Time has made things easier in most ways, and I have an incredible therapist. I use my writing as an expressive coping tool. The most important foundation for my healing comes from the people who surround me, though. People who care enough to imagine what our loss feels like- to appreciate what we are going through. These people are part of what has inspired me to share our story. Amazing people, like Susan, the nurse from the hospital, who held my hand. Nicole, our doula, who has supplied us with countless resources, a compassionate ear for listening and a huge encouraging heart. Our community donated money to us, which was unexpected but so very welcomed, after hearing about our loss. We have received countless heartfelt messages and well-wishes from not only close friends and family, but mere acquaintances and even strangers. It is this kind of compassion- simple gestures such as hugs and kind words, that helps to support the bereaved parents across the globe.

You may be surprised at how many people you know who have suffered miscarriages, stillbirth or the loss of an infant child. There is a statistic, that 1 in 4 pregnancies will result in loss. If you are one of those 3 lucky people, you are probably unaware that unlucky number 4 is even around. But we are here, grieving our lives away. It’s exhausting, the grieving. As grieving parents, we need to express our emotion in order to move on from it. We need to know that its okay to feel sad, angry, confused. Our reality never changes from what it already is. There is no do-over. We can’t fix things. Our children will always be gone, while we still exist to remember them. What we need is people who care about us, and are willing to listen. We need to feel like we still have a place in this world, grief and all. We need to know our children’s memories, which is all we have left if them, are making an impact on the lives of others. When we surround ourselves with a community of people who have the decency to appreciate what we have to say, or our decision to not say anything at all, it makes life a little bit easier. There is no rationalizing away the death of a child, there is only accepting it.

There were many reasons why I decided to persevere through the panic attacks, emotional triggers, and anxiety surrounding the story of my daughters death to write it out today. I want to encourage grieving parents to know they are not alone. I want to remember their lost children. I want others to have a glimpse into the pain that we go through, each day. Mostly, I want everyone out there who has a child to go to them and express how much they love and appreciate that child, and each moment that they have gotten to spend together.

I hope that you will find something in my words that means something more to you, and that you will share it with others. Thank you. –Erin Spahr

For those of us who may not have as much time or energy to actively participate, I encourage you to please share this story, the story of my daughter, Leia. Share it with those who may not know that grieving parents such as my husband and I exist.

As incredible as it would be to cure all childhood and pregnancy diseases, we have quite a ways to go before diseases like TTTS and stillbirth are a thing of the past. Not to say that donations to foundations that will aid in the research of preventing such tragedies from occurring aren’t appreciated, though. Please do donate! There are a vast amount of charities and foundations that would appreciate the funding. But as monetary donations aren’t always an option, I want more people to know about the alternatives. For example, there are charities who take donations of old wedding gowns, to turn into beautiful outfits for gone-too-soon babies to be buried in. Another charity uses photographer volunteers to capture everlasting, tangible memories for parents of their precious children. The website www.october15.ca has some great resources for those looking to donate or volunteer, please check it out!

How to choose the right Doula?

February 19, 2014

The doula interview is an important step in hiring the right doula for your family. A doula is a trained and experienced professional who provides continuous physical, emotional and informational support to the mother before, during and just after birth. As a parent looking to hire someone to be there for emotional comfort You need to feel like you connect and this is hard in an hour.

Do your research– Read their website, follow them on facebook… do they blog? Read it. Do this all before you meet them… Educate yourself on what they do and get a feel for them online. Do they swear like a sailor? maybe you do too… Then it could be a good match, if not maybe you need find another doula.

Have a list of questions— “What is your training?” “How many births?” “How do you handle stress?” “When do you go on call?” “How would you work with me and my partner?” “Do you have a back up doula?” These are all pretty common ones I get often but I love the ones like “do you like garlic? because I cant handle garlic at all” “my husband can’t handle blood so so how will you keep him busy” Listen to the answers, are they genuine, are you connecting with them?

Don’t hold back– It may feel awkward to discuss intimate details about your feelings and plans for birth within minutes of meeting someone but to a doula it is natural. Open up, let loose and say what you really feel. because in birth, there is no holding back.

Reflect— What is helpful for you when you are stressed? What brings you back and grounds you? Does this doula sound like she has those skills? Do they match your needs?

Do you like them? Really, you need to like them. if you find them annoying how are you going to feel 24 hours in on the big day?

Choose your Doula– Sit down and have a frank discussion with your partner. lay it all out and see listen to each other. Both of you will have an active part in the birth, so you both need to feel comfortable.

have you like my Facebook Page? https://www.facebook.com/RidgeMeadowsDoulaServices

The Importance of Routines- Guest Blog Post

December 10, 2013

So way, way back in July (or June) Nicole asked me to do a little blog for her on the importance of routines. Since I wasn’t in the routine of being a guest blogger, I came up with a few reasons why I couldn’t do it, and when all else failed, I ignored her. Now if you know anything about Nicole, you know she doesn’t do ‘ignore’. So last week I found myself in possession of yet another email requesting I get on it and get guest blogging.

So I found myself in the position of actually thinking through routines and why they are important to us. And actually that not only are they important, but a requirement for stability within a person and a home.
I think that some people baulk at the idea of a routine as they believe it will take away their freedom, their creativity and their independence. Routines will make us un-flexible, make our lives boring, creating a monotonous existence that will numb our minds and cause us to be a little like the stepford wives.

In actuality, just the opposite is true.

To begin with, most of us already have routines in our lives. We rise and go to bed roughly at the same time every day. We have a hygiene routine and a routine to nourish our bodies.
Whether we work at home or out of the home we have our routines. Another reason to establish routines is that they provide emotional safety for children (and adults too). We are all better at attempting new challenges (from children learning to tie their shoes to adults beginning a new job) when the regular routine is reliable. Generally speaking we handle change best within the framework of well-known routines, which allow us flexibility but keeps the expectations consistent. This means, “no surprises”, and that help us all to manage our thoughts and emotions, which empowers us to take control of ourselves and our environment.

Routines work in our lives from eliminating power struggles with your children to getting your children to cooperate. We all know “what comes next” and so it becomes habitual. No one feels, overpowered, disregarded or pushed around.

Daily, weekly, monthly and even yearly routines guide our lives and provide consistency, which enables us to live with harmony and security. And just so you know, I was reading the other day about artists. Even the most creative of them need to start by mastering the standards of the past and learning the rules of art composition. Only after the rules have been mastered and the artist feels safe within the structure of traditional visual artwork, can he stretch his wings and be his most creative. And so it is with us and our children. We are the very best we can be when we have a routine that helps us to know and understand the rules that keep us grounded and in control of ourselves. After that creativity, freedom and independence abound! So don’t be afraid of routines: embrace them. You’ll be glad you did!

The talented Sandra Deutsmann is local to Maple Ridge and Pitt meadows area and has been teaching Parents and Parenting classes for many years. When she’s not facilitating Parenting Programs she can be found singing, dancing or chanting overtop of crying babies and bouncing new mothers at her Parent Child Mother Goose Programs . She not only has a voice of an angel but she has a very experienced non-judgemental approach to parenting that has been desired from many parents in the community.

My Birth Story

July 23, 2013

As a doula, I look back on my birth and dream of what it could have been. I know my birth experience was the way it was for many reasons. The day it happened, the time of day, the reason I had a hospital birth and not a home birth and the people I had with me were all sequenced that way on purpose.

My birth story has many chapters, but today I will keep in short. One day I am sure I will dive into the details.

My daughter was due December 30th 2009, but fitting to Mia’s personality, she took her own sweet time and was encouraged (via Pitocin) to be born on January 11th. I chose this day because the midwife I was most connected with was on call and if I was going to have a hospital birth and not a home birth, I wanted people around me I was comfortable with. Along with Sylvia I had my husband, friend Jenn and my mother-in-law.

I was induced shortly after 8am, was able to walk around a short time and then things started moving around noon. My husband was on massage duty and was applying pressure to my hips (now trained as a doula I know he was applying a double hip squeeze) as I had a contraction. My support person had just birthed her 3rd child at home 6 months prior and knew exactly what I needed before I knew it. I had a cold cloth on my face, neck and forehead between waves and sips of water and “labour aide” given to my from a straw while I rested between contractions. PS- This really is only good cold! My mother-in-law was encouraging everyone to eat and making sure all the hospital staff were doing their best work, she demanded informed choices and for me to be part of the decision making process. My body just knew what to do. I pushed when I needed to push, I rested when I needed to rest. Not once was I checked by my midwife, she encouraged me to listen to my body. At around 2pm Sylvia (my midwife) told me I was already pushing… I had no idea, I was just in the zone. This is when I asked to be checked….. being a first time birther, I was starting to get nervous about pushing, anxious to birth and excited to meet my daughter. being an experienced midwife, Sylvia was right. I was 10cm dilated and ready to push. 4 hours later I was still pushing and still on Pitocin, baby was doing ok, but I was really beat.

This is where everything happened so fast, the pitocin machine was beeping, something strange was happening and it was not giving the proper dosage and my pushing was not as effective. Suddenly there was an OBGYN in the room with team. I consented to the vacuum. A large difference from the serene home birth I had planned. Being educated on the subject I knew the fact that I was essentially strapped to the bed and already having the intervention of Induction along with pushing for 4 hours the likelihood of the vacuum, forceps or caesarean were increasing. In moments, the vacuum was on, baby was born, the cord was cut (little delayed cord clamping) and the OBGYN flew out like a flash leaving Mia with me.

Mia was on my chest, I cried, Jonathan cried,my support person cried, the Midwife had a happy smirk and my mother-in-law was doing her best not to cry. Mia was born… healthy, alert and perfect. January 11th 2010.

I had a long amount of skin to skin with Mia as well as breastfeeding initiation within the first hour… 2 key points on the crumpled up, re-wrote birth plan I really wanted.

Are there things I would have changed, sure. But I made informed choices along the way… There was no coercion or fear. I knew my body was amazing and I knew by baby was coming out of my vagina.

A Postpartum Doula is more than a babysitter

A mothers story…

How to choose the right Doula?

The Importance of Routines- Guest Blog Post

My Birth Story

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