“…Take it from me…it aint worth it!…” (Episode Three)

“…Lights out ladies…“. the audible clicks of the manual controls can be heard from one end of the hall to the other! I was not too sure what that meant for me; this was my first night actually in prison and I am six-weeks pregnant.

“…Zoe Scott? Number 622133?…are you here?…girl, you better answer me…“, yelled Sargent Hill. He was playing like he was hard and tough, but he was a bit sweet on me; I didn’t mind, I was just sentenced to twelve years so I better just do what he says if I’m doing this much time. He was the same guard that was at the county jail when I was there, awaiting trial, so I’m good, I have a familiar face here, at least. From the looks of things, prison didn’t fare too bad; the ladies were all in order and the time it took to get the things we needed wasn’t that long. I heard war stories about prison but I guess a women’s prison had its perks. The warden is a woman; she was the type that wanted for her “ladies” (as we are called), what she would want for herself. I guess that’s good in a way, at least you don’t have the worry about getting ‘sloppy-seconds’ just because you are in prison!

I just got my intake physical when I learned that I was having this baby! This was a bummer since this would be the first child that I would be having and it would be in prison! The last child I aborted and never looked back; the first child I was pregnant with, I had, at 13; it was taken away from me when Child Protection was called. I was smoking crack with her Father (who was my best friend’s father as well) and the nosy neighbor, that lives at the corner, saw us and called on me. That Bitch needs to rot in jail right here, with me, for calling the law on my baby! She broke up our home and now, at 30, I’m not too sure where my 17 year old, Daughter is!

Yeah, I’m bitter…cant you tell? But, this didn’t happen over night. I am tired of people just doing stuff to me an thinking that they can get away with it; that very reason is the reason I am in here now. Yes, I tried to kill her father after he lied to his daughter about the paternity of the baby. The botched attempt at staging it as a robbery and the fact that he escaped the quasi  ‘attack’ with three stitches and a bruise, made  even the prosecutor reduce the charge to attempted manslaughter and gave me eight and a half, to twelve years! I don’t know if I should thank them or be embarrassed at the fact that they knew I was a drugged-out, amateur doper, that needs some help trying to commit a crime! Well none the less, I’m here and so is my baby and I need help! If I had it to do all over again, trust me…this would not be something I would be doing; take it from me…it aint worth it!

I’m 10 weeks now and baby is still looking good. I just came back from my prenatal appointment and I feel great. Sometimes I imagine that the ride to the Dr.’s office is with my chauffeur and I’m some rich-bitch going for her monthly visit, with her ‘driver’. I like to imagine that my rich husband is waiting for me at the Dr.’s office and I’m on my way to meet him. I know you may think that I need some medicine and a good nap for fantasizing like this, but I am sure, as I am sitting here, I am no-where-near crazy; this is the mentality you have to develop to be in here! I don’t think I would have been able to survive this whole month without this way of thinking; I know I would not have been able to stay pregnant this long. I have thought about aborting this child so many times but something just makes me keep this thing growing in me.

My bunkie is cool; shes the type to talk a lot, but that’s cool too. I like to listen to people talk; I like to see what they tell me without them knowing they are saying it…this way I learn bout them  before all the bullshit comes out. The funny thing is, I’m having a baby and I think my Bunkie is catching feeling for me. She said she thinks pregnancy is sexy…I think her liking me has helped to save this baby’s life because this baby would have been gone…sucked out on the state’s dime, if I had the choice. But its cool, I’m taking this thing day-by-day. I still have to come up with a home-plan for this child or it, too, will be shuttled off to another foster home just like my first one…and that’s not happening!

20 weeks and the baby has to be tested for some weird thing to see if it has down syndrome or something like that. I don’t want to know if this kid is sick…that would be to much for me. But that’s gonna have to wait for right now…my other baby is coming out to the yard and I cant wait to taste those sugar lips! Oh how I just love my Bunkie, Lee. After rooming with her for the last 90 or so days, I have really gotten to know her. She was gay on the outside and was  seeing some chick before she came in here, for robbery. She will be going home in three years, so I think this is something that she wants to do, to have “fun”, while she’s here. I was hoping I would be more than a “romper room fix” to her, but as long as she keeps me safe, she could have anything she wants from me…even permission to have someone on the outside.  I love to feel her touch; it reminds me of Raymond’s touch, my first sexual experience. I was twelve and he was 15 but I loved Raymond.  I guess because Raymond was so young his touch was light and soft, like a woman’s touch, but Lee ‘s touch is more deliberate with each stroke, complimenting my shape and form. (oh, in case you are a bit lost right now, I said Raymond was my first sexual experience, but my Uncle knocked me up at 13…see there is a difference.)

My Uncle…Uncle Sam…yes, that’s his REAL name…was a kind soul! He was born in the Bayou (like most of us) but was brought up in the big city. That city life is what caused him to come back to the swamp, every-so-often, to tell us the wild stories of the big city. These stories got me to fantasizing about the rich folks he lived near. All the fancy Paris-style houses and the mini bistros that lined the streets, would make any little girl wonder about how life could be. But my Uncle had to spoil it, one night, as his Mother, my “Gammy’, was watching me while my Mother worked late. I’m not too sure why he felt he could come to our side of the duplex to watch TV…I reckon his Mother was watching her soaps again and he wanted to catch the highlights of the game. Well he sat in my Fathers old chair, drinking his beer, while talking to the TV, during each play. His voice got louder and louder, the more he drank. I wasn’t too happy with the noise so I thought I would go out there and tell him about it. Well that was a bad move. He grabbed me by the throat as I was talking and pulled me closer to his face. With his hot breath and that corn-chip, stuck in his teeth, he belted, “…you better not ever yell at me again!…I’m a crazy son-of-a-bitch and that’s not something you would want to do to me…”. I replied, “…well, I was just asking you to be quiet…I wasn’t yelling Uncle Sam…I promise I wasn’t…and I’m sorry if I made you mad…”. He smiled at me and I thought this was over. With his hand still affirmed around my neck he pulled me closer as if to kiss me…but he licked me on the side of my face; from my jaw line to my temple and then commenced to licking me across the lips. I got instantly sick!

Uncle Sam didn’t stop there…

Once I managed to get away from that “vice grip” of his hand, I ran to my bedroom and closed the door. I cried for hours thinking about why he could do such a thing. I began to fantasize about what one of those rich women would do in the big city and tried to help myself to some relief in those thoughts. “…I bet they went shopping at some fancy store to relieve the pain…”, I imagined. “…I bet they were the masters of their universe with all they were able to buy, in a day, with all that money…they went to Sachs Fifth Ave. first, then to Macy’s… for that sale that’s going on….then it was off to Bloomingdale’s for that new suit that just came out yesterday…”. Oh the stories I would create to block out the terror I was living.

I couldn’t think much about anything else when he was around…until he gave me a memory that would last a lifetime! My Mother and Gammy went to the store for dinner; they were only supposed to be gone for a few minutes, but when they came back, Uncle Same was in handcuffs and blood was coming down my leg.

It was a Friday night…I remember…because Friday Night Football was on and I loved to watch the opening credits with all those “Hollywood Lights” flashing on the screen! Uncle Sam was in my Fathers chair (again) and I was playing in my room. I guess it was about half-time when he got up to get something to drink. Bonnie Rait was performing doing a tribute to “Ole Tennessee Greats” of the past. She was about to do a rendition of one of Elvis’s songs when Uncle Sam came flying back in the room to try to catch it. He left something on the stove because half-way through the song I smelled something burning. I ran in the kitchen and saw the kitchen towel on fire and tried to blow it out. Everybody knows that oxygen is kin to fire (except me) and I kept blowing and the fire kept getting bigger. I yelled for Uncle Sam who thought I was meddling in the kitchen and I started it, myself. He was able to finally put out the fire and told me I had to be punished for it. I tried to explain that HE actually did it, as he was taking his belt off his pants,  but he wouldn’t listen; telling me that I needed to go in my room and wait for him. It always seems like forever when you’re waiting for an ass-whooping to happen. I wanted to get this over with because I sure was telling my Mother when she got home.

He was drunk, as usual and stumbled into the bedroom. I was sitting on my bed trying not to laugh at the fact that he is supposed to be so mad yet he was  stumbling in the room, tripping over his own feet! When he saw me giggle at him (as he was falling into my dresser) he came up in a rage I had never seen before. His eyes were instantly blood-shot and his face was as red as blood! He ran towards me and all I could do was scream. He picked me up and threw me on the bed. His belt was off and as he walked toward me his pants fell revealing that he was going “commando” that day! I was shocked to see a penis that size…and that hard! I was not sure what to make of it and was scared! He came toward me, telling me that “bad girls” need to be “punished”; he said that I had to “pay” for the damage to the kitchen somehow and was about to show me how his penis was a sure-fire “lay-away” plan. He approached me and began to lick my face again, then, touched my breast. I slapped his hand but he was no match for me; I think hitting him made him even angrier! He pushed me back down on the bed. He held me, face-down, on the mattress and began to whisper in my ear, “… hold still and it wont hurt as much…”. He tore my skirt and ripped my panty. I felt a warm, “knob-like” object, poke  my butt, then it pressed up against me harder. I tried to squirm away but it moved closer to my private area until it reached its goal! I wanted to scream but at this point, he had my face in the mattress so I couldn’t scream…I couldn’t breathe either! I think I passed out, because when I came to, there was his slutty girlfriend, Sheila, standing over me, with a look of disgust on her face. I remember her hitting my shoulder as she tried to revive me and told me to, “… get up…the cops are her and want to talk to you!…” . I got up and blood ran down my leg. Sheila watched it run, shaking her head and  said, “…I hope it was good…you about to get my man sent up for the rest of his life for that little ‘trick’ you did…trick…and who tried to burn down the house?…”

She told me it was my fault and I took the blame all these years…now, I cant decide if I am attracted to women because they don’t have penises or if I’m scared to be with a man because every man that comes into my life hurts me in some way and then leaves me and goes to jail…my Daddy included…he’s in jail now for raping and then killing my Aunt… Uncle Sam’s dead wife!

OUCH… what the hell was that? OOOUCH!!! Dammit…that shit hurts! I stood up and felt a pulling in my lower belly, almost like I pulled a muscle. Oh well, it stopped now so I guess I will go back to the yard and talk to Lee… I’m horny right now and I think I know who has the cure! My belly is kinda big now so there aren’t too many positions I can get in with Lee, anymore. She is so understanding though and takes me into her arms however she can. The cold metal beds that we lay on or lean over, are no match for the heat she gives me when we make love; I wanna scream with joy;  our many oral positions grant full access to our passions, so its hard NOT to scream, but the guards are not too far from the cell door and I would hate to get caught…Ooo wee, that tongue (of hers) is miraculous! I remember one time she was kissing my swollen breasts trying to make me feel better about them getting bigger, the next thing I knew, I was bent over, doggie-style and her tongue was so deep inside this cunt I thought she was tickling my navel!! I had never felt anything like that and I am still trying to get back to that first “high” again…I SWEAR!!!

Im 29 weeks and 6 days today…I went for another appointment and to get the results of those tests. My baby looks fine but my fluid level is a bit low. I was told I would need to have an IV for a few hours to bring up the level and would be in the infirmary until after chow. I asked Lee to bring me some food and she said she would be right back. As I went to get up on the table, I felt that pain again and this time I felt like I had to pee…real bad! I told the nurse who said, “…good…I need some urine anyway…here’s a cup…go handle your business and bring it back to me…“.  Well, that request would not be honored. As soon as I got down off the table, heading to the bathroom, my water broke. I wasn’t even thirty weeks yet but I was about to have my baby…today!

The nurse asked me if I just pee’d on her floor.  I told her, “… my water just broke…” and she called the ambulance. Since it was an emergency, Lee couldn’t come to bring me my food; she was ordered back to C-Block and told to lock in. I was sacred. I didn’t know what I was happening and everything that was happening was happening soooo fast and soooo sudden that I didn’t have time to think! All I knew is the nurse just kept telling me to pray and to hope that everything would be OK! I wanted to believe that, but something told me, from that very first pain, that something was VERY wrong!

I get to the hospital and they wanna strap me to this bed with these pink and blue straps. Then I was ripped from my clothes like I was being stripped-searched for drugs! The first nurse asked me a million questions while the second one was sticking one arm with an IV and the third nurse has a Blood Pressure cuff on the other arm; a forth nurse was adjusting the blue strap, while the fifth nurse, who was charting notes, asked me to speak up…she couldn’t hear the answers to my questions. It was like they were the robotic hands and I was the “Bionic Belly” that they were rebuilding! I was waiting for the background voice to say, “…we have the technology…we have the capability…” and for Lee Majors to come around the corner!

It was surreal!

The nurse told me she couldn’t hear a heart beat and asked another nurse to come over to listen; she in turn, left the room and called the doctor. The nurse that took my vitals told me that I was going to have a surgical procedure called a “C-Section” and that a doctor was coming in to place a catheter in my back to “…put my legs to sleep…”. Then I would be placed on another bed to the OR to get my baby out. We got half-way through all that when the doctor, who, at this time was on a constant vigil with the baby’s heartbeat, said, “…ya’ll can stop…I will call it at 8:20 pm…“. I asked what he meant by that and he asked me if  I still wanted to have a C-Section or would I want to be induced to deliver my baby. I asked what the difference was and he said, “…duh, one is a surgery and one is just enduring labor…I’m pretty sure since you are locked up all day, enduring labor would be a great excuse to be ‘free’ for a longer period of time, now wouldn’t it?…” Did he just insult me? I felt some-kinda-way about what he just said and how he said it! Is he saying that I would rather be ‘free’ than risk the life of my baby? I truly didn’t understand but about five hours and four pushes later, I would know just what he was talking about…my baby died at 8:20 pm and he was allowing me to endure labor to push out a dead baby!

I went though all that and I would never get to hold my baby; I would never get to speak to or count fingers and toes or watch the patterns of sleep develop. I would never get to know what kind of mother I would have become and I was robbed of the chance to make things right, with this child. I was angry and I was certain that I would not take the blame for this like I took the blame all these years! I just lost my baby and the best they could do for me was to send me back to my cell with a pamphlet and a business card with a counselors number on it! I was lost and alone…I was hurt and scared. I didn’t want the baby but I didn’t want another child taken from me either! I was screwed again, and the irony is, this is yet another man leaving me…permanently! Lee wasn’t even here and I was all by myself.

I guess that what I need…to be by myself…this way I could find out why things are still being taken away from me. Either I don’t deserve them or I have to learn from them…but either way, I have to deal with them by myself!

You know, the solace in all this is that at least Sargent Hill wont have to tell his pretty wife he was going to be a Daddy again…

 

Zoe’s Baby are stories of actual mothers and their pregnancy voyage. The names have been changed but each story, either of (one of) my clients or the clients of other Midwives, is real; each story tells of a unique journey in pregnancy and the results of their fate! Please share this story with someone you love in hopes that we can appreciate the lives we live and the story of every woman’s unique pregnancy! Thank you!

 

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I’m pregnant…but who’s her Mother?!? (Episode One)

I was told my due date is next year and I have all the resources in the world to explore but I’m still not too sure this “Belly” is a good look for the rest on my life!

Now, I’m from Nawlins and we are mostly against abortion but don’t think I want to adopt out my baby either because I want to see if I can do this myself! I have been through hell and back and this baby seems to be the ticket to finding out who and what I am so I won’t have her repeating the past!

So you will know, at the very least, what my past has provided for me, I will begin from when I can remember best…about the age of 7. I will then open up a greater innerstanding as to why this time in my life, is actually “perfect” for birthing something great, inside of me! (great double-entendre’ here!)

I remember the touch of his hand, on my lower back; as he retracted the calloused palm, I remember it smelled like the bag of loose tobacco that sat in his shirt pocket most days! When he would use “h” words or would yawn, the soured-nicotine stench would bellow out like morning breath after a night of eating fish with garlic and onions.

I hated the very knowledge he existed…buy…he was my Dad!

Littered with years of him allowing us to grow up in subject poverty and my greater dreams of getting out of his house, I now feel the term “natural selection” and “disenfranchised” was created for girls like me! As a child, I remember sitting in class waiting for the lunch bell because last night’s dinner was the last time I had something in my mouth, well, other than that forced penis of his. I begged female classmates to let me use perfume or while in gym, I would spray the white girl’s hair spray on my private parts because the water has been off in the house for the last week; a bath was not something I could have anytime soon but for some reason, he thought he could have me whenever he wanted! I remember ducking that two-week old appointment with the school guidance counselor because I knew her requests, to look on-line for college scholarships, would not be accomplished living where I was living; the electric bill was due in three days and we were no closer to paying that bill or the water bill for that matter.

The years of teenage pride was shattered when I was told that the cost of pads were not considered a “bill” in my house…I would have to work for my maxi pads or steal them as I found myself doing on more than one occasion. Yes…this little girl was not cultured in the best ways of living but all is not lost on the betterment that I had in my mind! Momma, about 20 years younger than Daddy, was the only peace that was given to me, but Daddy controlling ways forced their divorce and him asking for full custody of me. what would a father want with his daughter if the mother was the one that was doing right by the child?…I always wondered about that one!

Fast-forward to my late teens…

I’m about to be legal to drink, in three months and I got a can of 211 with my name on it! The man I called Daddy was no more in my life; becasue of his drinking Social Services took me outta that house before I was 16.  I thought I would move with Mamma but they said that she was not able to help me either because her job didn’t pay enough to house and feed me. I was sent to live with relatives, foster parents and even a high school classmate of mine, until they got evicted! Momma decided that she needed help but chose another dick over me so that’s who moved in to her house…his name was Trevor! This mild-mannered man looked like he could be the “Daddy” I needed. He was tall, muscular and very handsome with that bald head of his! Momma thought he would be handy around the house…I was just hoping he would handle all this ass by doin me . Hell, my own Daddy tapped this ass when he wanted to so why couldn’t I be allowed to choose who I let squirt up in me? Well, so much for that…things didn’t work out; Trevor had a wandering eye and it wasn’t looking at Momma most of the time!

Now enters my college life…boy that was something!

This time in my life was a complete blur! All I can remember was the first time I smoked weed, the last time I snorted coke and the train of the school’s football team that was between me, in-between semesters! I liked Jerome but hated kissing Thomas. Keith smelled good…but Nathan…Ooo wee…Nathan was truly a “hot dog” I could sink my teeth into! But, I found out he…out of all of those that laid inside my warm hole, was on the DL and was not trying to let ANYONE in on that secret! Why are all the good ones gay?!?

I did graduate college but the stench of my prior decisions, led me right back to the “marrying my Dad” syndrome! Jason was that Daddy-figure I leaned on for two years! He was 45, I was 25. He was married before with a little girl and I was just trying to have all the children his penis could produce; he was just toooo fine girl! We lived together for a few months until my jaw was broken when I “fell down the stairs” as I told the ER nurse. The fractured femur came next. I don’t think the sprained wrist really healed properly because it STILL gives me problems…till today! When I reconnected with my Daddy on that new social site everyone is talking about, I was convinced to move out of Jason’s house,giving us “time” to breathe.

Daddy was sober now and trying to stay employed. He has stopped smoking and began to actually have civil conversations with Momma now but his two-bed apartment was just the resting place I needed.

Daddy was a day-laborer by trade; this made finding work easier than one would think. Where ever there was a construction job, an infrastructure site to renovate or the simplest of sod to lay, Daddy was the man for the job. For years, his work ethic was NEVER hampered by the fact that he was a functional drunk, but what I couldn’t settle with, in my mind, is why, all these years later, did I choose to live with my Dad when Momma’s house was a familiar track of comfort for me? Why was I seeking the male energy when Mama’s ANYTHING was the greater sense of security for me? Well, it didn’t take VERY long to figure out why I came back…

I wasn’t finished…this time, I needed his touch again!

Wednesday the 20th didn’t seem like any special day. The dog next door, was found dead (of malnutrition) so I woke up to the local dog-catcher yelling at the owner who called in the demise. That was followed by the shrieks of little Tilly; the six-year old that lives across the grass from us. She was crying, while standing outside, waiting for the school bus. For some reason, this day was not a day she wanted to spend in school, for nobody! Dad was always up by 6 and by the time I rolled out of bed, the house was smelling of brewing coffee and yesterday’s food. I didn’t like this environment but it was a place that allowed me to rest and heal…for the most part!

That night I was feeling weird and Daddy was act the same. I was feeling a bit lonely and turned to my Dad to comfort this little girl lost. He obliged. The chatter turned to a physical walk down memory lane…until the phone rang…it was Jason. He wanted to see me. I was still a bit horny so I thought a late-night rendezvous was just what I needed. I was there in 20 mins and not a moment too soon. He opened the door with a woody as long as a celery stalk and I was not about to allow all that go to waste.

We were done in an hour and I was back home to Daddy before he even figured out I was just in the arms of another man, doing what he began to do! Didn’t you know it, Jason and I broke up a few months (and a few more sexual romps) later; he wanted to get married again and I was not the marrying type…at least not now!

Nights like that were not uncommon! Gerald followed Jason and then Trey came along for romps of pleasure. I met Trey in the ER as I was leaving one evening. I wasn’t in there for a bruise or another lie to be told in the ways i handled my domestic violently, I was actually feeling sick that night and thought it was food poising. A ten minute test and a quick diagnoses would lead me down a path that questioned the very core of my decision-making process…for you see…Im pregnant!

On the surface that is the most common two words spoken by a woman; second to the most common, four words, spoken by a man, “…well, it aint mine…”. At this point all of my most recent lovers could say that and I couldn’t be mad…I didn’t know whose baby it was either. Some times we allow ourselves the ‘out’ by being diligent to our sexuality and then sometimes, like this, we just have to eat the karma of our actions! I was not sure  what I was supposed to do at this time, but what had to do was find out whose baby this is!

Its month eight now; my Dad was helping me with the baby shower when Momma called to ask what I needed. That call was interrupted by a simultaneous knock on the door from a neighbor. She, too, wanted to know what I wanted and what size I needed for the baby! My high School friends and even JASON was coming to the event! All this attention can make a woman not realize that she is still in limbo about the paternal lineage, swimming in her belly; the focus should be on finding out who the father is,  but I’m too excited about all the goodies Im getting!! All that will have to wait; Momma said she was actually coming and this house is a mess!

Its Saturday and the shower is in an hour! The dip is out, the chips are fresh and the finger sandwiches are almost ready! Sheila, Mommas best friend for almost 40 years, dropped by on her way to work, to drop off her gift. Sisters, Sabina, Michelle and Bernetta came by, but will have to leave soon; they are heading out of town for a funeral (tomorrow). They want to hit the road before dark but wanted to see me and my huge belly before they left. I’m in all pink; I just found out its a girl and I wanted every one to have a camera ready so they could take a picture of this day! Since I wanted a lot of pictures I was hoping that this would happen so it would allow me the best shots of the bunch. I m soooo ready and the folks are coming in! Let’s see what I…I mean the baby…gets!

Momma was talking to Daddy most of the night; I thought things were heating up (again) for them until Momma got up crying and ran into my bedroom. I had to follow as I didn’t know what was wrong and I refused to have anything mess up my evening. While Daddy continued to entertain, Momma and I had some time together to chat!

But this conversation was not what expected!

Momma was crying because she wanted to tell me a family secret that had been plaguing her since I was born. Now that I was having a baby of my own, she wanted we to know the truth about this family and the things what were going on behind closed doors…literally! I was ready for almost anything.  As she began to speak,  her lips quivered with every other word. She even spoke slowly; almost as if the words physically hurt her as they left her mouth! I was more nervous than concerned with WHAT she was saying, because of HOW it was effecting her, as she spoke about it!

She began…

“…Zoe, Momma has something to tell you something and I m not too sure if you are ready for this, but you are having your own baby now and you should know more about your family, so your child will know what she is being born into!…” I was very afraid at this moment but was more curious than anything. She continued, “…Momma loves you but I have to start by apologizing for your horrible up-bringing, I wanted better for you but Momma wasnt strong enough to make things work better for me…let alone you. I was forced into a few things and would like to tell you about it now…Zoe, your Momma is really your Sistah; yo Daddy is my Daddy too!…”

You could have heard a pin drop!

“…your Daddy is 20 years older than me; he was 20 when I was born and 40 when I got pregnant…with you…”  I, with tears in my eyes at this time, wondered what that meant for me and his advances toward me all these years. I was either his granddaughter or his daughter, depending on who was talking at the time! I was just too stunned! She finished with, “…I know he has touched you at times. He told me that, when I refused to sleep with him, after he took you! He told me then, that you were better than I was;  my pussy was too loose after you were born…” I was LIVID! How dare he do this to me…and the woman I thought was my Momma all this time. Can you imagine…all these years she was sitting back, waiting for the right time tell me, yet trying to live some sort of life, for herself, after he left. She was as confused then, as I am now!

Her gentle strokes on my head and tender reminders of the life I had when her and I lived together, made me tell her my truth… “...Momma, we have been sleeping together and I initiated the last few times we were together...” Surprisingly she was not shocked. She admitted that he was a clever one; able to make anyone do as he says, using sex as the debasing factor. I obliged him thinking I was the one that needed it when he, all along was using that act to keep me coming back…willingly!

Well this was enough. I was going to have this baby and, like I said in the beginning, I was going to keep this baby to prove to myself that she was going to get a better life than I lived…or so I thought…

Karma is a bitch!

I had the baby girl in the local birth center. Madeline was what I named her. This 6 pound, 1 ounce little creature, was whisked away from me, just as soon as I was able to lay eyes her. They told me that she would be held, “for observation”, at the hospital, so they could run some tests. Not sure what that meant for Madeline…or myself, I was forced to trust them with her. Daddy, not knowing of the conversation I had with Momma a few weeks back, came to see his grand-daughter (or whatever she was to him) and wanted to thank me for deciding to keep the baby! He said, “…girl babies are so special…don’t you think?…” Not realizing that that statement would be the pit of my demise, but before I knew it, I found myself leaping across the bed and onto him, I grabbed the knife from my dinner tray and began to stab this man repeatedly. Hearing his screams, the medical staff rushed into my room to find me on top of his lifeless body!

Days later, the test results were in on Madeline. Momma came to visit me in the Nawlins county jail to deliver the results. Madeline, who was picture perfect in my eyes,  had Down Syndrome. I just thought she had “Chinese eyes” like Jason. I even said that to Momma before they took her from me.

Momma finished with, “…I got more news Zoe…little Maddy (as she called her)…is Daddy’s baby too…”

“Zoe’s Baby: Episodes from the Womb” are stories” from women that are healing from the stories they tell of their passage into Motherhood. Please look for them on http://www.twitter.com/ameenaali  and enjoy!

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“…Girl, I plan to ‘rip the runway’ for the next 3 months!…” (Episode Two)

I wasn’t the smartest girl in High School…I think my greatest accomplishment was getting out of those four years without an STD! I had friends and acquaintances and some, I was glad to get away from, when I graduated.

But what I never seemed to have was a plan for my life…

Marcus, my high school sweetheart, had big plans to play pro ball. His Idol was Deon Sanders and now, its Michael Vick, but his real DREAM was to play against them for a Championship ring! I was just his girlfriend, going along for the ride and allowing all the thoughts of grandeur (of that lifestyle) to be the reasons I stayed with him. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love him…I just love the lifestyle a little bit more!

The NFL draft came and Marcus was front and center…we knew it would be one team or another that would choose him. My bags were packed and I was ready to move to whatever town wanted my Boo Boo…we were heading up in the world, I just needed to know what my new address would be!

“…The Atlanta Falcons choose…Marcus White…”

Atlanta?!? WOW…that was a far cry from this little St Louis town we were from, BUT…I guess I will be getting to know all the shops in that Buckhead area, I read about, now won’t I?

Marcus got us this quaint little bungalow in a suburb called Sugarloaf. This majestic, planned community of opulence, was the stuff of dreams! I saw marble tubs…solid gold toilet handles…Pearl and Platinum-dipped Chandeliers and imported Granite just to line the stairs leading, to the basement! I mean this section of Georgia couldn’t spell “the projects” if you gave them all the letters in a Scrabble game! But I was home in this 4700 sq foot abode and no one was telling me different.

Marcus began to give me an allowance…$500 and month, then $1000, then he would just give me his card and tell me to bring back receipts so he knew how much I was spending! I lived in Lenox Mall for almost a year until Phipps Mall called my name! I hit those shops like they owed me something…and didn’t care what the damage was because I was a “Football Wife” so I was good!

During the Football Wives, August Tea (a monthly excuse to dress and show off how fly they were), I was introduced to the Sister that started it all. She immediately informed me that I was a “girlfriend” and I was considered, “second string” in their eyes, until he married me! Now, I didn’t know what to say, at first; the gall of her speaking to me that way as well as the sentiment of her words, got me feeling some-kinda-way about her and this soiree’. I finished the afternoon coming home to Marcus to discuss this chat.  Marcus, sore and tired from practice, decided that I would feel better if I had something “new” in my closet and handed be the Black Card from his wallet! Of course, I headed to the mall and never looked back.

Although I didn’t like many of the “wives”, I did like the fact that I was able to get into the games and was seated in Marcus’ “box”. At first I wanted to know what was so special about being sooo high up in the stands, in a BOX that was about $3,000.00 -$10,000.00? You cant see a damn thing from up there yet its all the rave with season ticket holders and family members of the players…especially the ones from the hood! OMG…they take the cake! They swoon in with their knock-off threads and their wanna-be “phat knots” of money (of all ones and fives), while Pookey and Bay-Bay take home all the fried chicken their thieving hands can pilfer! I really don’t get it…no matter if you have a million dollars in your pocket or three-cents, didn’t yo mamma teach you some manners? I mean, for real people!!

Anywho..I was certain that this season was going to be the bomb; this was my first season as a ‘wife”, my first house, that was all mine, my first run at ad-lib shopping sprees  and the first year I would be on top. My life is about to take off and I am finally the pilot!

Year one…year two…year four and then five! I was still shopping, still sitting in a damn box and I was STILL a ‘girlfriend’; We were no closer to marriage than I was in year one and I was no closer to the respect I deserved as a “wife”. When I questioned Marcus about it, all he would do is hand me his card and say, “…enjoy yourself…”; he didn’t even bother to sit and listen like he used to.   I began to question; was I being used or was I just a “plastic” dummy?

Well that would have to wait…I am due for my doctor’s appointment in a few minutes and I am thinking that this cold will finally be over, real soon. I’m going to get some good drugs from this NFL “family physician” who makes house calls. I am learning, being in the NFL, you really don’t have to leave the steps of your manicured lawn for much of anything…everything is brought to you…including the drugs for a cold.

Dr. Wainwright, as he is called, is the ‘on-call’ doctor today! He is one of several that they hire to come to the homes of the NFL player’s, to treat the family members as they need it.  “…it’s for confidentiality…” they say, but I think its one more thing they use to justify all this money they make. I mean for real…you have “little boys”  that are about 22 or 23, driving cars they cant spell and living in houses they couldn’t drive to if they weren’t an NFL player. They are allowed to do what ever the hell they want and all their servants say is, “…yes sir, what else can we do for you…”. These boys are young enough to be the sons of some of their servants but they have to say, “yes SIR?…” I just don’t get it! Anyway, Dr. Wainwright has some news for me and by the look on his face, I think the cold just turned into the flu…really quickly!

“…is it, ‘Mrs. Taylor-White’ or is it just Miss ‘Zoe Taylor’?… I want to make sure that I am using the right name…cant be too careful now-a-days…” I really didn’t see the relevance, but this time I wanted to make a statement…”…No, you are right, its Mrs. Taylor-White…“. I was stunned at the look on his face because I knew he was being sarcastic and didn’t expect me to come back with such a retort! He played along with the name but what he said afterwards was instant karma!

“…Very well, MRS. Taylor-White…umm…I will not be able to give you any prescription meds today for your cold…we will have to wait for the baby to be born to give you anything stronger than Tylenol…” What the hell did he just fu*king say? Baby? What Baby? And who the hell is he talking too…cuz I know like hell Im not pregnant! Aww hell naw…he is going to have to take that test again!  Marcus is not ready for this!

Truth be told, I really wasn’t ready to give this man a baby when he can not even think twice about giving me a ring! He has talked about it, danced around a date, talked OVER a wedding and told everyone that would listen, that he is a” bachelor fo life“, (using his exact words)! So how in the hell will he commit to having a baby? I guess I was about to find out!

Marcus came home that night, usually tired and grumpy; the big playoffs were in two weeks and some of the guys were not getting the plays! He asked me how my day was and was expecting something to eat. I told him that I sent the maid home for the night because I wanted some time alone with him. He said, “...baby, Im sooo tired…I wish it was a night after the playoffs…you know I really have to concentrate…“. I replied, “...well concentrate on this, I am pregnant and we need to get married…” “…Whoa, whoa, whoa…slow down…baby???…what baby??? MARRIED??? are you serious, Zoe???…”, was his only retort. I explained how I felt and for the first time, I think the prospect of a baby was the thing that was making him actually listen to me. I was amazed at how he was responding to me and the fact that he was going to be a father. His Dad was not a staple fixture in his life, so I know how important it will be for Marcus to be in this baby’s life. However, I didn’t know how important I was to being his wife.

I’m seventh months now and no closer to a wedding or being his wife. I was told, “...when you are out of your first trimester…“, then it was,  “…we’ll do it when you start showing so you can show off the bump in your dress…“. Next it was, “… for sure,  after the second trimester…” and now its, “…baby, I would feel better if we wait until the baby is here…just to make sure everything is alright…“. I guess he will marry me, he’s just being cautious, right? The phone rings…it was a number that didn’t have a caller ID name to it. I know it’s not a bill-collector and all our friends have a name programmed in…so who is this?

Hello; may I speak to Marcus, please?

Yes…Who is this please?

Oh, this is Michelle…and you are?

His wife…

Oh no you’re not, I’m his wife…we go married a few months ago when he came to Tampa for the payoffs!

Married?? a few months ago??  What the….

I slammed the phone down and into a fury that would take a Lithium drip to calm! I was livid and ready for war! If I was having his baby, girl, I plan to ‘rip the runway’ for the next three months!…”

Marcus came home from practice. Initially, I played it cool as I wasn’t too sure how to break this to him. On one hand, I wanted to be a ghetto as my up-bringing, but on the other hand, I wanted to show him the real woman I had become and what he was missing, marrying Michelle. He asked how my day was only this time I lost it; I said, “...oh I had a wonderful time on the phone today, I was chatting with Michelle…does she even know I’m pregnant, Marcus?…“; the silence in the room would make a Buddhist Monk jealous!

He had no words…the look on his face said it all. He was married and I was the stupid ‘girlfriend’ that was pregnant while wearing a ‘dunce cap’! Yes, I was the one living in 4700 square feet; yes,  I was the one that was invited to the fancy teas and dinners and yes, I was the one sitting in the fucked-up sky box, but she had his name, his clout and all rights an privileges to him, at anytime;  for all I know she could have thought I was the maid when she first spoke to me. I cant believe this…I was with him since HS…since the draft and for the last five years and he marries some chick he met on the road? What did I do so wrong?

Well the answer to that question would have to wait…my water just broke and I’m 39 weeks today.

Marcus Jr. came in at nine pounds and fourteen ounces and was 23 inches long. Either I had an affair with a basketball player or this kid was destined for a run at the NBA! He was quick too…three hours and thirteen minutes of active labor, born at home and born with the Midwife that was three doors down. The on-call physician was “having his lips done” (yes, I said that right, his lips) and was going to call me back, but this baby was coming and I was stuck, having to birth!

Lydia was awesome. Not knowing my history or the medical stuff she needed to know, she was calm and VERY professional; leaving her family, during dinner to answer the call to birth. I love the work of a Midwife and wish I could have enjoyed her services all the way around, by choosing one earlier in the pregnancy, but I’m glad she was home when she was! I really wish I could say, “…well I will use her for the next one..“, but I will not have another one…not with Marcus anyway! Speaking of the married man, he was called a few hours ago and got out of practice “when he could”. He came home expecting me to still be in labor and was ready to take me to the hospital until Marcus Jr. cried while sitting in his Moses basket, on the table. Marcus turned to me with a little tear in his eye saying, “…Is that him?…“.  Reluctantly, I said, “…Yes Marcus, that is your son…”. Marcus looked like his whole world just opened up and he was ready to be the father he has dreamed of.

A few weeks later, I began to pack my things to leave; either I was going to post-postpartum or being in that house was becoming increasingly unbearable. Marcus tried to converse and wanted to make matters better, but the focus stayed on the baby; the joy in his eyes was enough to make me see that Marcus Jr. was the right focus… for both of us. As I was going to get the breast milk satchel warmed up, Marcus came over to me and asked me if  we could talk. “…I just know he is not going to as me to leave…“, I said to myself, “…I will leave when I am good and g*d-damn ready to leave, shit…this is too much and I am still in my six-week period…“. That rant lasted all of 30 seconds when he handed me a box with a ribbon on it. He said, as he was getting on one knee, “…will you marry me Zoe Taylor?…“. He opened a ring box that had the biggest diamond that could come out of the earth and he was giving it to me… to ME!!! Not wanting to get too excited, I said, “…what about your wife…” He replied, “…now you can open the box…” In it, was papers annulling the marriage to Michelle…it was over and I was almost ‘Mrs. White’!

Eighteen months later, the final touches were made to the fifteen bridesmaids and groomsmen that was scheduled to be in attendance. The Flower girl, Marcus’ niece, Tiffany, out grew the shoes we got for her so it was a mad-dash to get another pair to match her dress. Marcus Jr. was sharp as the ring-bearer and my dress…well my dress had to be altered a bit; I didn’t realize I would be that big again at seven months!

Zoe’s Baby are stories of actual mothers and their pregnancy voyage. The names have been changed but each story, either of (one of) my clients or the clients of other Midwives, is real; each story tells of a unique journey in pregnancy and the results of their fate! Please share this story with someone you love in hopes that we can appreciate the lives we live and the story of every woman’s unique pregnancy! Thank you!

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Make up MY mind…are you empowered or NOT?

Im a bit warm right now, so the sarcasm is going to peak really soon…just bear with me!!

I have this thing about women that come with a ton of questions but are not ready for the truth of the answers! Case in point:: “Mary” (as we will call her) is “suffering” with Hyperemesis Gravidarum or to the layman, morning sickness! Common ailment right?…she’s pregnant, but she refuses to even TRY crackers and/or Ginger Ale because, per her words, “… the acid for the Ginger Ale is too much…” Yet she has never tried it and the crackers are “…bread and bread is fattening…”! Are you serious Sistah?…it freaking crackers!! You come to the office with a barf-bag strapped to your head like you are Mr. Ed yet when I give you a safe, light and non-evasive remedy, that might just work for you, you malign it with an ignorance of an evident cure of the heartburn (you said you were equally having) and a diet preference? WOW…talk about sleeping in the bed of victimology! Well, I’m about to cover her up, with the truth!

Now…please don’t hear that that one (very minute) little incident was the reason for my most budding tirade; I am much more patient than that, for God’s sake, I AM a Midwife, it just seems that this frustration is boiling over and she was the temperature increase that began the bubbles!

I want to believe that the education, information, knowledge and the empowerment of the right to choose how you wish to bring your child into this world, is just that…YOUR choice, but how do you go about making that choice without making silly decisions like the “cracker lady”?

First…lets define “choice” vs.”decision“!

“Choice“…from Websters (and yes…I STILL use the BOOK version) says, “…the action of selecting from the options provided, to attain a goal, resolve or ending…” and “Decision” says, “…choosing from the many choices given, that best suits a desired outcome…” So in just those two sentences, you can see that one can intercede into the other, yet they are BOTH able to chauffeur each other as the need arises. Although succinct in its tenants, Choice and Decision are two, totally different words that we (seem to) toss around all willy-nilly-like, in discussion, without a care in the world!

sadly, when it comes to pregnancy, we do the same thing…

Your CHOICE (the variables given) in how, where and whom you birth with, is a DECISION (your “final answer”…and no I don’t “want to be a Millionaire”…well, yes I do, but right now I just want her to make up her mind) you make, early on in the pregnancy. Now, the “tricky” part is NOT in what you are choosing or deciding on…its THAT you are choosing or deciding, that is important!

So many Bellies get pregnant each year. With mass media and now the internet, that same woman can be bombarded with information to help her navigate to a safe and healthy birth. HOWEVER…with all that’s out there to learn, coupled with the know-it-all neighbor or the precocious co-worker, I have known some women to have found themselves at her 30th week without a birth plan, a pack of diapers or a car seat! Not because they could not afford them, per se, but because they have been “seeking” information for the last um-teen weeks yet STILL have not DECIDED or CHOOSEN what was right for THEM! I mean, its really not rocket science…you can plan your day, knowing good and well what you want to eat and wear; you can decide on what route to take to work or what dinner plan is cheapest and quickest, but for the ONE event, that is TEN MONTHS (not nine, people) in the making and tantamount to deciding your career path, you cant make up your mind to save your own life! Sheesh…

Now, I absolutely ADORE and respect the ability (in those) that CAN make a decision…wrong or right! I have visually seen men break own in tears when they realized that they have made a decision that was not in the best interest of themselves, but held their head up HIGH, in astute PRIDE, in knowing they made the BEST decisions, based on the choices given at that time. BRAVO (I’m actually clapping my hands right now).

Being pregnant does not void your sense of reason or your ability to choose the best for you. What it SEEMS to present is a very unpleasant complacency and evident subterfuge, that most women use, to NOT choose, when need-be; its like they want to seem like they are just “being cautious” or just “taking their time…to choose whats best“. In the mean time they are at 35 weeks, seeing me every week at this point, scrambling to get the nursery painted or to get the birth kit ordered!!

Geezy Peezy…is that what this whole pregnancy-process has come to?…ME making decisions for YOU because you haven’t or don’t realize that its time to? I had a belly that KNEW it was time to bear down, allowing baby’s head to crown and I hadn’t  gotten her to sign the vaccine exemption forms (that she ASKED for) because they have been sitting in her purse for the last eleven weeks now! What the heck was she waiting for? That’s not pregnancy-brain (or gestational amnesia)  that’s pure laziness…you have seen me every month for the last few months and neither one of those visits struck you to turn them in? Goll-lee…We gotta get better than this! Ugghhh!!!

Well…that is all I have and I will end this vent session with a “kiss on the forehead” in total thanksgiving of you allowing me this time to vent! See…it wasn’t that hard to choose to read this or decide you wanted to laugh at the funny puns that are dotted throughout this rant! …and I appreciate that!

To all my Bellies that KNOW I’m talking about you, please just choose to decide or decide to choose…hell, just pick one and let me know!

See ya next time…Ameena

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Bellies, Babies and Business…how do they sleep together at night?!?

Ok…we have “The business of being born”…”Everything you wanted to know about sex but were afraid to ask”… The “Dr. Spock” series and even the age old novel, “Are you there God, its me Margaret”. Each of them outline and describe a faction of Bellies we develop, the Babies we birth and the business of the sex needed, to get them here.

But…what happens if we take the “Business of a Belly’s Baby” or the “Baby’s Belly Business” we would STILL come down to one thing…the child! That is what I would like to speak on today…the commanding trust of the unborn!

Pregnant women expect to carry the child to term, Dr’s rely on the pregnancy to succeed, to capitalize on the profits of the insurance companies they bill. Even (us) Midwives count on the last sexual adventure to result in future job security…but what are (each of us) really counting on and asking for?

…The child!

The child, gestationally sound at 38 weeks or greater, with a final APGAR of 9 or higher and with “4-10-and 10” (four limbs, ten fingers, ten toes ) is the product of happiness for the Midwife, the Belly, Daddy and the new “Big Brothers/Sisters”. That baby is the very reason that (even with her 60y/o fear of flying) Grandmom will board that Delta flight, bound for the arms of that new arrival, without a second thought. That child is the one person that “Uncle Pete” (and you know we all have one) will pull out his camera like he owns Kodak, snapping at every slight movement the newborn makes! That little one is the VERY being that will cause people to spend money, time, effort and energy to tantalize, smile at and watch develop, right before our eyes.

So why, when we speak of Pregnancy, the battle over the rights of the Mother, her option and choices in her way to birth and the challenges SHE faces each day of those 40÷ weeks, do we NOT acknowledge the child growing inside of her, more? We speak on him/her, as to its “intelligence” because of early actions in the womb. We gesture to what sex it will be based on the height or roundness of the uterine shape (BOTH, a total myth) and we fuss over the health/nutrition of the mother as though she is actually “feeding” the baby ANYTHING! (FYI…fetuses take from what Mom already has…Mom eats to replenish what she loses to baby)
BUT…we NEVER side with what baby is doing in the midst of all of this “fussin”.

We can’t say, “outta-sight-outta-mind” because each month her belly grows, we SEE the baby, bumping out of her mid-section trying to ration extra room in that “Uterine Condo”. We can’t use the fact that we “can’t talk” to the baby because research has shown that conversations between Belly (Mom) and Baby happen more times than we can record. Equally, the defense of not being able to understand baby is quashed with reason of KNOWING that Bellies (Moms) have been able to tell Dr’s, Midwives and even their partners that “something doesn’t feel right” when that “sixth sense” kicks in. So why do we (including myself) reason with the Belly so much when the real control, focus and importance obviously lies with the fetus itself!

So I ask…

How do we Practitioners re-focus on the real issue and task at hand, being the Baby? When do we put baby first and support the Belly, second. Is our focus on Mom’s health because thats who we see? Is it because we take for granted that the fetus will “just know”, so we focus on Mom? How about, is it because she (Mom…the Belly) is better able to “deal” with things that involve her health or is it that we ASSUME (and you know what is said about that) that the fetus is “ok” because there is nothing on the surface to say otherwise?

How can we, formed and born into this life realm, think that the fetus knows how to call for help if something goes “wrong”? Moreover, how can we ascertain a trust in “someone” that has never evolved (before) from a zygote to an embryo to a fetus to baby? (c’mon, you remember this…it was in your Human Sexuality class in High School!…LOL)

We, as practitioners lay in wait, for almost a year, for a being, that has no clue, has never done this before and has no one there to tell them what to do…and not to do. We have no clue as to what he/she is going to do or if it WILL come to term! With all that trust, belief and certainty in that job description, then why is it we lay fear in the Belly in her care, when we suggest/tell/advise her , during the pregnancy? Should we be equally trusting in HER (someone we CAN see and someone that was obviously healthy BEFORE she got pregnant) to have/offer a more “hands-off” approach, in our care for her?!?

I, a full-fledged, Indigenous Midwife in my own right, still struggle with these paradigms (as I call it) in my practice. Sometimes I’m all over my Belly, like a hawk with newborns in the nest. I come at my Belly-client like she is three, playing near a hot stove; I’m asking her this, telling her that, advising her to stop/start this or that! Then, (I guess) when the mood hits me, I’m cool as a fan blowing arctic snow…I sit back listening to her “story” doing my exam and then sending her on her merry way, without a care or concern in the world!

I said all of this to say, I have, with this dissertation, just realized that no matter what happens, the ascension of the newborn and the care of the Belly all comes out of TRUST; trust in a Divine plan for both Mother and baby! I don’t have a magic wand…a crystal ball or Dorothy’s Red Stilettos, so I have to believe that each gestational period I am honored to commence with, is what it is, for the reasons it will be…for the good (or the perceived bad). The energy and karma that has to unfold is all in Divine Order and Timing and I am NOW required to be the best steward of this craft, to just sit back and watch what happens!

But…Isn’t that what FETUS’ do anyway?!?

Sent to you from my creatively astute and fabulously efficient iBerry®…empowering Mommies one Belly at a time!

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So…you want a Midwife, Huh? Well…Pick one!

A Midwife is a person who, having been regularly admitted to a Midwifery Educational Program, duly recognized in the country in which it is located, has successfully completed the prescribed course of studies in Midwifery and has acquired the pre/requisite qualifications to be registered and/or legally licensed to practice Midwifery. The Midwife is also recognized as a responsible and accountable professional who works in partnership with women to give the necessary support, care, empowerment and advice during pregnancy, labor and the postpartum period, to conduct births on the Midwife’s own responsibility and to provide care for the newborn and the infant. This care includes preventive measures, the promotion of normal birth, the detection of complications in mother and child, the accessing of medical or other appropriate assistance and the carrying out of emergency measures. The Midwife has an important task in health counseling and education, not only for the woman, but also within the family and community. This work should involve antenatal education and preparation for parenthood and may extend to women’s health, sexual or reproductive health and childcare. A Midwife may practice in any setting including in the home, the community, hospitals, clinics or health units.

What is a Lay Midwife?

The term “Lay Midwife” has been used to designate an “uncertified” or unlicensed Midwife who was educated through informal routes such as self-study or apprenticeship rather than through a formal program. This term does not mean a low level of education, just that the Midwife either chose not to become certified or licensed, or there was no certification available for her type of education (as was the fact before the Certified Professional Midwife credential was available). Other similar terms to describe “uncertified” or unlicensed Midwives are: Traditional Midwife (TM), Traditional Birth Attendant (TBA), Grand Midwife and Independent Midwife (IM).

What is a Licensed Midwife?

A Licensed Midwife (LcM) is a Midwife who is licensed to practice in a particular jurisdiction (usually a state or province).

What is a Certified Midwife?

A Certified Midwife (CM) is an individual educated in the discipline of Midwifery, who possesses evidence of certification according to the requirements of the American College of Nurse-Midwives.

Certified Midwife (CM) is also used in certain states as a designation of certification by the state or midwifery organization.

What is  Direct Entry Midwife?

A Direct-Entry Midwife (DEM) is an independent practitioner educated in the discipline of midwifery through self-study, apprenticeship, a midwifery school, or a college- or university-based program distinct from the discipline of nursing. A DEM is trained to provide the Midwives Model of Care to healthy women and newborns throughout the childbearing cycle primarily in out-of-hospital settings.

What is a Certified Professional Midwife?

A Certified Professional Midwife (CPM) is a knowledgeable, skilled and professional Independent Midwifery (IM) Practitioner who has met the standards for certification set by the North American Registry of Midwives (NARM) and is qualified to provide the Midwifery Model of Care (MMC). The CPM is the only international credential that requires knowledge about and experience in out-of-hospital settings.

What is a Certified Nurse-Midwife?

A Certified Nurse Midwife (CNM) is an individual educated in the two disciplines of Nursing and Midwifery, who possesses evidence of certification according to the requirements of the American College of Nurse-Midwives.

Please check you local and regional directories for the Midwife that is to your level of experience and liking. There are many more specialties and offerings that can suit your needs in the field of this practice. Such practices will vary but a few are: Spiritual Midwife, Indigenous Midwife and Homebirth Midwife. All of which can carry the same professionalism and training, but specialize int he area that they are prone to serve and are defined by the demographic that they are commissioned to.

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Doulas: the vaccine in the prevention of Infant Mortality

Question:  I’m a new Belly-to-be and need help…I’ve heard of a “Doula” but what is it and how will it benefit me?

 

Ok…You got your due date…the Hubs has the nursery painted and is now fumbling over the crib assembly.

The baby shower is THIS Saturday and your Mother-in-law just announced she wants to come for the full six weeks of your convalescence, instead of the two you planned. With all that on your mind how in the world will you be mentally available and ready for your big day? Well, I think its time to choose a Doula that’s right for you and your birth space!

The word “Doula”, Greek for “Woman of Service” or “Maternal Maidservant”, was first used (officially) by Dana Raphel in her 1973 book, “Tender Gift: Breastfeeding”. The role of this Gestational Servant is to tend to the very delicate gestational needs of the Mother. As the Midwife speaks for the unborn, in care and comfort, the Doula gives Bellies the empowerment and the support she needs during pregnancy, labor and during the postpartum rest period.

The regulation of hiring a Doula is well defined and easy to understand. Contracts are simple and fees vary based on type and length of time of services. Likewise, as of June 1, 2010, some insurance companies will offer compensation of Doula work depending on the state and the Insurances that will participate.

Training of Doulas can be a weekend long course to the full ten week session with intern/externships and apprenticing positions. The schools vary from state to state yet, at current, there is no national organization linking all the schools and/or the certification requirements. So it is best that you check your local state courses for the schools and the referral lists in your specific area.

There are several types of Doulas. They all are great resources to turn to and can be a dynamic resource of information from freebies for Belly and baby to referrals to Medical Professionals in your area. The can be prior medical professionals or a lay person, with (or without) children. They are required to have training to charge a fee but depending on your area there may be free services offered from those apprenticing or newly graduated.

A few of the Doulas to look for are:

Prenatal Doulas educate and support. They take the time needed to inform and advise the client; paying close attention to the rapport established; respecting the boundaries of the Mother’s choice, her birth plan and the medical options afforded the Belly. They range from $50-100 per 1-2 hour session and normally have a requirement of a once-a-month meeting; normally after the monthly/weekly Doctor or Midwife’s visit. (You can expect higher fees with Antepartum (High Risk) clients and clients that are younger when pregnant). Prenatal Doulas can come into the birth space during labor but additional fees can apply.

Labor/Birth Doulas come in during the pregnancy but they primarily show their talent in the birth space. They are ready with natural and holistic pain options and meditation/Hypnobirthing practices as well as equipment for labor postures of comfort and support. They range hourly and can vary from $12- $20 an hour, per labor time, for services (Gratis and Non-gratis Services are available in your area). For marathon labors (labors lasting more than 12 hours) Labor/Birth Doulas will have back-up Doulas that will take over and relieve the primary Doula, for a few hours, for rest or personal hygiene purposes.

Postpartum Doulas begin as Prenatal Doulas change to Labor/Birth Doulas but specialize in the “bringing baby home” portion of the birth experience. They can be cross trained as a Lactation Doula (see Lactation Doula below) and offer Life Coaching and Empowerment services to combat postpartum blues. They range from $50-$75 per session (or have a set fee for a number of sessions, as needed) and normally come 48 hours after birth to either the hospital or the homebirth space to make sure Belly, Dad and baby are all adjusting well to the transition. She will offer housework help and time management skills as a part of her duties to the family.

Next are Specialty Doulas which have service-specific, specialties. They can have higher ranges of pricing per consult (Please check your local area for specifics as to what they will and will not offer in their services). These Doulas are required to be certified as a Doula first then take additional classes for the desired specialty as listed below.

Adoption Doulas help the expectant parents feel as close to birthing a child as they can get. These Doulas are normally cross-trained in legal terms and have great relationships with law firms and court officers. They take you by the hand and make certain you are comfortable with bringing baby home as well. They work as a Prenatal Doula and can be in attendance in the birth space (with the birth mother) if warranted. They open the discussion of bladder feeding (explained in Lactation/Alternative Doula), natural and chemical Lactation and time management if adopting multiples. Adoption Doulas can range from $150-$200 per session and/or have set labor charges that can range from $25-$50 per hour for natural births and $50-$100 per hour for C-section, postpartum and wound care.

Alternative Doulas are the newest branch of this evolutionary “Doula Tree” and service the LGBT Community with everything from Home-readiness to planning the adoption and even helping the Gay male breastfeed (with a bladder of course!) This Doula is unique as it can be both male or female helping the budding Belly and all of her services. She/He will establish roles of the parents, can hire the attorney for the adoption as well as train the breasts of the non-birthing Mom so she can breastfeed the newborn or the adoptive baby! Alternative Doulas can be costly; this demographic demands the best and will be willing to pay the price. Some fees range from $200-$500 for minor services to $1,000-$1,500 (and higher) for Daily-Liaison or major birthing services.

Ante Partuum Doula or “High Risk” Doula can come to you or you can go to her. She has been known to work in Dr.’s offices or have a side practice of her own! Handling mostly Gestationally-ill Bellies, these Doulas can handle “older” Bellies, Bellies full of “multiple” blessings (twins, triplets, quads, etc) as well as Bellies that need bed-rest or is gestationally confined a hospital. They are very trained and can be a Montrice (Nurse Doula) or even have a LCSW or and MSW. Their fees can be slightly higher but these Doulas can also receive remittance through insurance if with a Dr.’s office or as a Clinical Social Worker.

Bereavement Doulas help the family during the most difficult time of pregnancy; the death of that child. They will be the support and the connection to behavioral health professionals if the need is warranted. They hold the hand of the grieving parents surviving a stillborn birth or can come into the home to offer support and resources after a declared SIDS death. Alike, they offer counseling and referral services, crisis interventions and home visits as needed. They are equipped to deal with the stressors of a Miscarriage, a planned abortion (termination after rape/incest) or even the grief factors of a failed adoption. They range, considerably, per session and can make arrangements for the family if declared a medical spokesperson. Her prices are flexible and range from $75-$100 per session (as needed) and can charge on-call fees, Emergency Room and Crisis Intervention, if applicable.

Daddy Doulas, new to the Doula world, are the “Doulas to the Dads”. Many Dads have questions about pregnancy labor and Birth but tend to not know when or who to ask. The Dads may feel intimidated by the OB/GYN yet may not have other male friends that have asked the questions he may have, to get the answers needed. The (male) Daddy Doulas step in and level the playing field. They have meetings at the local gym, recreational center, during a friendly game of Poker or at the Sports Bar; whenever or wherever the Dad feels most comfortable. They chat in a non-conventional style that is neutral and for the Dad and Daddy Doula to open up. The Dad may have several personal questions; questions from his wife’s hormonal changes to what his role is in the birth space to how to help her be her best during the baby blues. The Daddy Doula, operating as a Prenatal Doula only, advises and informs the Dad and explains the Mother’s birth plan, prior to birth and is on the ready, by email, text and phone or in the waiting room, during the actual birth. Likewise, his prices or flexible and range from per $75-$100 per session (as needed) and can charge on-call fees, during labor, if applicable.

Lactation Doulas come to your home after you are released from the hospital or have cleared the birth space if in indigenous, cultural or religious Homebirths. They specialize in Lactation, Breastfeeding, proper latching and troubleshooting for inverted nipples, breast that are slow to fill and reduced-fill, after success. They are a specialty service and range from $75-$150 per visit but typically stay for as long as the mother needs the help. She is not required to do house work but most will offer the help if needed.

Teen Doulas take on the role of both Prenatal Doula (see below) and Labor/Birth Doula; (this is where the additional fees could come in). They act as more of a “maternal guidance counselor” and in some instances double as their Social Worker or case manager for local welfare offices. These Doulas get very personal with their clients; sometimes visiting group homes, their schools during class time, holding support groups and chat sessions as well as going to the local juvenile detention centers for those that have pending cases. They range differently from case to case. They normally have a set fee and can charge by the hour for marathon labors or extenuating circumstances like postpartum (hospital care) after a C-section or stillbirth. They range from $150-$200 per session and/or have set labor charges that can range from $15-$20 per hour for natural births and $25-$30 per hour for C-section and postpartum care.

Montrice is a Prenatal, Birth and Postpartum Doula, however, she is a Registered or Licensed Practical Nurse that is trained as a Doula. This is typically a retired or semi-retired Nurse that desires to keep her skills sharp. She is normally in the business to help Bellies and to begin to “give back” to the community that she served for many years. She, as a rule, is specially trained in (what used to be called) a “Labor and Delivery Nurse”. (The new term that is liked is Maternal Care Nurse. The name-change, if used, is to reflect the truth of what they do; you don’t DELIVER a baby, you deliver a package…you BIRTH a baby) This “Mother/Grandmother-figure” mentors to the new parents or Belly and is particularly fond of the Teen Belly! Her pricing varies. Some have gratis programs that allow her to “volunteer” her time to needing Bellies and some have non-gratis/for-profit programs, aimed to assist those Bellies that need the help and is of economic means.

Multiple Doula, like its name, cares for the Belly that is “blooming” many blessings at one time. Fraternal, Identical, Triplets, Quads, Quints and more, these Doulas are masters of time management and organizational skills. They work with the Multiple Belly and the siblings (if any). She is even able to help Dad “jump in” once he is home from work or his duties outside of the home. As they will reflect, they are trained to be there as a second pair of hands as well as a “teacher of time” (as they like to call themselves). They are a specialty service and range from $75-$150 per visit but typically stay for as long as the mother needs the help. The overnight or continual stays can be a weekly fees charged as discussed!

Nutritional Doula allows the Belly to “eat for two” without over-doing it! This natural “forester of food management” takes the joy of eating and adds allowances to do so! She allows you to eat according to your Blood-type, needed diet and even your desired/required weight program. She is normally a trained/educated Nutritionist, by trade, but has a specialty in Gestational Care. She is a one-stop educationalist that works with your Practitioner as well. She can take insurances but those that are self/cash pay, she will always have a payment plan as she knows she will be with you for close to a year working with your prenatal and postpartum eating cycles.

Parental Doula is the educational resource and parenting class educator for Bellies and Dads. Formerly labeled “Lamaze Instructor”, the Parental Doula takes the art of parenting and empowers the Belly and Dad with options and management of their parenting styles. They work with the courts, adoption agencies and foster agencies as well. They carry specialties in multiple-birth, time management as well as the how-to’s of special needs babies; they become the foreman in the transitioning of the home to accommodate medical equipment and special-need renovations. They are a per-session service and come out as needed and required by the court, the hospital or Social Services. They can be cross trained as a Social Worker, Grief or Group Counselor, LCSW or MSW, but that is not a requirement to fulfill her duties. They too can range from $150-$200 per session and/or have set charges that can range from $15-$20 per hour/class for natural births and $25-$30 per hour for postpartum care. Insurances can cover most if not all of their fees.

Sexual Assault/Domestic Violence Doula takes the Belly from fear to freedom in her choice of birthing! She is the resource magnet and needs to have each contact “on the ready”, at a moments notice. Trained in the field of DV/SA, she is able to adhere to the safety of the Belly and her baby, regardless of her choice to return to the home-space. She is equally able to prepare the Belly to birth naturally (if in a case of Sexual Assault) as the Belly might be leery to birth out of the same area that she was assaulted in. With time and counseling (also arranged by the Doula) she can assist the Belly to a better outcome and result. Like her Bereavement Sister-Doula, her prices are flexible and range from $75-$100 per session (as needed) and can charge on-call fees, Emergency Room and Crisis Intervention, if applicable.

Spa Doula is, by far the best Doula to date, per the testimony of most Bellies! New to the Village of Doulas (since 2010), these “master manipulators of the muscle” take the extra time to make the Belly feel really good…literally! She must be a CMT (Certified Massage Therapist), dually-trained as a Doula, specializing in prenatal, labor and postpartum techniques. Her job: to promote the Oxytocin (the brain’s natural anesthetic) during these difficult pregnancy times for the Belly. She can a bit pricy, charging her standard fees and adding the expertise of touch to the service, but most (if not all) have a built-in pricing so the Belly can afford her care and the Spa Doula can make her care within means.

Special Needs Doula has individualized care for the Belly that may have unique or disabling needs. This Doula works with either the special needs of the baby (Down Syndrome, Spina Bifida, Cerebral Palsy, Clef-lip, etc) or the special needs of the Belly (Amputee, Low-Functioning Autistic, Dwarfism, Para/Quadriplegic, etc.) For this level of care, she is HIGHLY trained in her field and usually solely works with a Doctor’s office or Medical Care or Home/Hospice Facility (which will take insurance). They can be cross-trained as an in home health care worker and set aside the time needed to even provide live-in care if her working schedule doesn’t preclude this. Her pricing will vary and will have to be discussed at your time of visit for care.

Substance Abuse Doula filters into the NA/AA demographic with a specific entail to gestational sobriety. This Doula can take Belly from “selling to sobriety to sober-living” in the ten-months of her pregnancy! She is usually a recovering addict herself, cross trained in Doula work and is able to be a Gestational Sponsor as well. She is able to hold the hand of the Belly trough her “clean-time” and aid in relapse-prevention for the more difficult times of the pregnancy. She too, Like her Bereavement/SA/DV Sister-Doula, has prices that are flexible and range from $75-$100 per session (as needed) and can charge on-call fees, Emergency Room and Crisis Intervention, if applicable.

So, as you can see, Doulas are a great resource you can turn to as you need them. They take great pride in giving the best of services in the most personal of spaces. They work for the Belly, Dad and the entire Village and are a wealth of resources for the couple and their new family.

For more information and questions on Doulas you can email GRRACEE (Georgia Reproductive Referral Alliance Center on Education and Empowerment) at graceemail@gmail.com

Dr. Ameena Ali, PhD, CD-P/B/P

Vocational Lay/Direct Entry Midwife

• Founder, G.R.R.A.C.E.E. – Pronounced “Grace” is the Georgia Reproductive Resource Alliance Center on Education and Empowerment. This is the education, information, knowledge and wisdom to help you on your journey to prenatal, pregnancy and postpartum wellness for you and the Tribe at your command! We seek to uplift, promote and protect the reproductive rights, reasons and responsibilities, options and choice, in health, wellness and vitality of the Belly and life of the unborn. We provide small class sizes in Childbirth Education, Holistic Doula Classes, Expos, Seminars and Continuing Education Units (CEU) for Mom, Dad, the Doula/Midwifery Student and Doula Apprentice!
• Founder, A Mother’s Peace – The go-to source for all your gestational needs. We offer educational service-work in Pregnancy/Gestation, Birth, Doula and Postpartum care. We discuss everything you will need to know; from prenatal to postpartum and from conception to creating your birth space! You will come away enlightened, empowered and allowed choice, each step of the way! We have Pregnancy/Childbirth Classes, Gratis and Non-gratis Doula and Doula-Locate Service, Religious and Cultural birth practices as well as Intimate Orgasmic, Water and Indigenous Midwifery Services.

770-870-8045 (talk/text)

askdrali@gmail.com (alternate email)

www.twitter.com/askdrali

www.twitter.com/ameenaali

http://www.facebook.com/grraceemail

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Voice testing

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Underserved and underprivledged Bellies need your help!

Greetings!

I wanted to send this to ask that you sponsor or forward this message. As you know, I have a Gratis and Non-Graits Birth Program. In it, I have a few Bellies that are in need/cant afford their birth kits! These Bellies are our Teen/Young, DV, Undocumented, Undeserved and Underprivileged Bellies, in need of support and resources!

Equally, I am going to be taking any remaining/donated kits on the “Midwifes for Haiti” and “Midwives for Dominican Republic” tours, scheduled for summer, 2013.

If you , or someone you know, would be willing to purchase a $33 kit (plus S/H) for one of these Bellies, please feel free to inbox/email me so I can give you the address to send it to. They will be sent in my name (for confidentiality) but will be sent to the addresses of the clients in need. Once you have the address, you can click on the link (below) and have the kit sent!As always, I know you will come through for these Bellies and I await the anticipated blessing! Thanks to you all in advance.

Happy Birthing!  

https://www.1cascade.com/ProductInfo.aspx?productid=40059  

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