eDoula for hire…that would be moi…

Do you need a cheerleader as you plan your homebirth, your VBAC, your water birth or your drug-free birth in hospital? Although I was never one during my school days, I’m quite the cheerleader now. If you could use some support, consider me your squad captain.

Hire me to be your email pen-pal and dispense firsthand, experienced ideas, advice, and knowledge, one to one. I’ve helped several friends in this manner and I love it. If I had pompoms I’d shake them. There’s nothing better than helping a woman to make informed decisions, which tends to lead to happier birth experiences.

And when mama’s happy, most everyone else is happy.

Contact me! Let’s chat! kikilarooskee@hotmail.com

References, like the one below, are certainly available upon request.

When I found out I was pregnant at 36 years old, I knew that I wanted to do things a little differently… and I also knew that I had NO support… just negativity toward my desire to have an unmedicated childbirth. This is where my eDoula came in. At first I thought it was a little too “2011” even for someone like me to find my support system on-line, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.  My eDoula provided me with everything I needed: support, an ear to bend, tips, advice, knowledge…and most importantly, a sense of empowerment. She was there for me every single step of the way. My eDoula told me I could do it when everyone else said I couldn’t. She gave me the courage to stand up to my fears and to enforce my desires. I absolutely could not have been able to realize my goal of having an unmedicated birth if it weren’t for her and I am forever grateful. I highly recommend her to anyone. Her passion toward everything mommies and babies is worth every single penny.  Monica, Cleveland

I TRUST BIRTH…how ’bout you?

Whenever I sit down to blog, my head is a swirl (is that a word? A phrase? “A swirl”…) with what I want to say. Do I want to rant about induction? Do I want to beat the dead horse of circumcision? Do I want to question why homebirth is viewed as crunchy, crazy, or criminal? I just can’t harness my thoughts sometimes.

So then I end up writing nothing.

Sorta like my style of housekeeping…so much to do, I get overwhelmed, figure I can’t possibly catch up, and bag the whole idea. And the house remains cluttered, despite my best intended thoughts.

With birth, I started out pretty gosh darn angry, and dare I say, I still get a tad ticked at things I think are kooky.

I need to get over this anger or I’ll end up in a straight jacket, pacing in circles, talking to the floorboards.

What the hell am I so angry and a swirl about anyway? It’s just birth, right?

I read these posts (maybe that’s my first problem? Don’t. Read. Those. Posts.) or blogs or websites and there are debates raging on about, say, induction. Should I get induced? Should I get induced on such and such date? Should I wait until 38 weeks or 39 weeks? Oh, it drives me batty.

What I really want to know is, since when is induction on the table as an option? A choice in childbirth? Like you’re ordering takeout sushi and you say, “I’ll be there in two hours to pick it up, but I just wanted to place my order a bit early.”

Why is induction a choice for mama, but not the baby? (To ward off any I-had-to-be-induced-because-exceptions-to-the-birthing-norm, I fully realize induction can be life saving. Got it. But really. How many of your lives were saved because you’ve been induced? How many were for convenience? How many were out of uninformed fear? What is the exception and what is the rule? Eh-hem. Thank you.)

Where was I?

Right. Induction.

Like…did my mother have the choice to get induced, back in the disco days of the 70s? When did induction come onto the scene? The 80s? The 90s? I don’t get it (but we know that isn’t saying much).

Why is this a question for debate…when to get induced? Is induction even normal? And furthermore, why would otherwise intelligent human beings agree to it without a second thought?

I dunno. Maybe some things aren’t for me to figure out.

Then I just read a debate on circumcision. And it’s like, here we go again. The foreskin this, the foreskin that, millenia of Jewish custom this, a covenant with god that, if we let boys decide what they want to do with their foreskin then we may have circumcision anarchy which will lead to mass hysteria, blah blah blah…

What I cannot figure out (hence my anger and daydreams of walnut floorboards with names) is why we cannot just let the boy human decide for himself what he wants his penis to look like. Because after all, 1) it’s his 2) it’s a cosmetic procedure, not medical.

I mean, I just hung out with a classmate I hadn’t seen in years and she had a boob job. Maybe her parents should have just saved her the trouble and done it for her when she was three. Or eight. Or 13. That’s a cosmetic surgery as well. Why not?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Whatever.

But why all the confusion and stress about what to do with an infant’s foreskin that involuntarily grew on his penis in the first place? Leave it alone.

Then, you know me…Miss Homebirth America here (OK, well maybe not quite America just yet, but how about Cleveland?)…why is it when you see something about homebirth, the headline is in one of three lights: 1) you’re a crunchy, granola hippie from who knows when (or you were raised in a commune by hippies and called your parents by their first names, of which were Morning Sun and Corn Husker…Corn Husker was your mom) or 2) you’re flat-out crazy. You’re crazy, crazy, crazy. Who cares about birth on the rest of the planet or since the dawn of human kind (they do it at home). You. Are. Crazy for birthing at home. Crazy. Cray. Zee. The end. Got it. Or 3) It’s criminal. It’s illegal. You’re not allowed to birth your offspring from your vagina in your home. You must enter a hospital (or you’re breaking the law if you don’t). Or, you are not allowed to hire a certified professional midwife to attend your birth (cuz that makes sense). Criminal. Shame on you! You outlaw, you!

Why is this how homebirth is viewed?

I mean, homebirth was my last choice, my last option some seven years ago. My wants could not be found in a hospital and no free-standing birth centers exist in my neck of the woods (Disclaimer-The Amish Birthing Center would not have me. I asked. They said, “No, honey. You have to be Amish.). That left my head a swirl, realizing, “I am having a baby at home. Huh. Who woulda thought?” 

And the reason for this choice? Not because my mother’s name is Corn Husker or my father’s is Morning Star (or was it Sun?). Not because I grew up in a commune on a gazillion acres in a place called Wayward Soul (not that there is anything wrong with any of this). And certainly not because I consider myself crazed (the thought of a routine episiotomy sorta had me crazed though, as I visited half a dozen OBs who offered episiotomies as routine standard of care. No. Thank. You. Bleck.).

And criminal? Well, let’s just say, who knows? Ohio likes to fly under the radar is my take (although many are pushing licensure), and leave well enough alone. And I’m okay with that.

Maybe my problem is trust. I have too much trust in the entire process of birth.

I have too much trust in Mother Nature’s design. I have too much trust in my unborn children I carried in my womb. I have too much trust in women and their glorious bodies and their wonderful workings.

I just trust. And I believe.

I believe babies know when to be born. I believe foreskin is there for a reason. I believe women birth at home for a reason.

And I flat-out trust what I believe…no matter how many blogs, websites and debates I read.

I trust birth.