The Hyphen House

Empathy is the experience of understanding another person's condition from their perspective. You place yourself in their shoes and feel what they are feeling. Empathy is known to increase prosocial (helping) behaviors. While American culture might be socializing people into becoming more individualistic rather than empathic, research has uncovered the existence of "mirror neurons," which react to emotions expressed by others and then reproduce them.-Psychology Today

After another mum told me she was so tired from waking up twice the night before, I responded by saying something like "if only I just woke up twice! that would be heavenly!"

After I told another mum that I'd been up every 30 minutes with my little one (who was cutting her molars), she responded that her baby had just cut a tooth and she didn't even notice. My heart sank. I was at the end of my rope exhausted, while those two didn't have any difficulty at all.

Neither scenario is best.

I chatted with yet another mum this week who feels disconnected from her birth group because they have all become so competitive. Everyone has a better sleeper, eater, walker, talker, etc. than she does. She doesn't feel supported.

And then there's toddlers. When "Dash, we eat blueberries, not knives" results in a fit of hysteria, I want to tell her she's ridiculous.

"Empathic Lines" by Javier Del Amo Varona via flickr

I've basically decided I don't have the time or energy to be judgemental or competitive. But I do need to make the space to respond with grace.

No matter how much harder or easier my situation seems at the moment or in the past, I'm trying to respond to the present of my companions. "I'm sorry your sleep was disrupted, that's always difficult" is a better response than immediately dishing out my own concerns, trying to one-up the sleep deprivation. "Dash, I understand that you are confused that you can grab one thing but not the other and you're upset that you can't do something that seems interesting, but I want you to be safe" would be the kind of response that requires me to see things from her perspective, change my tone and support her while still setting boundaries.

We are wired for empathy, but it's also a learned skill. I'm trying to seize the different levels of practice offered in my life.

Each year in my American history course, we spend a class day with dohistory.org discussing the history of midwifery in the United States. Historian Laurel Thatcher Ulrich wrote the brilliant book A Midwife's Tale after deciphering the handwriting in Martha Ballard's 27 years of journals. This website allows students to analyse portions of the journal, advertisements, newspaper articles, probate records and other documents that give insight into 18th century American life through the lens of birth.

"The 1793 Man-Mid-Wife cartoon that you see above depicts one view of the controversy in the form of a 'Monster,' a half-male, half-female midwife." -dohistory.org

The sphere of birth was attended almost exclusively by women until the mid-1700s. (This timeline offers a good overview of the change over time.) "Man-midwives", male doctors, in the colonies (and Britain) began to compete with midwives. They offered more medical training, used drugs and they cost more so there was a status to it.

It's interesting to hear the perspective of high school students regarding this history. Most of them have never really thought about birth or questioned how it's done now, so it's a good opportunity to discuss it.

Of course I don't see male doctors as monsters, nor do I see medicalized birth as a complete tragedy. But I do think it's important to understand the historical context of modern birth. Personally, I'm quite happy I questioned today's practices and sought alternative routes. I believe my own experience was richer for it.

Does my child come first? My husband? Myself? Yes.

I often hear conflicting advice about care:

"Put on your own oxygen mask first."

"Your child is only young once - pour all your energy into her."

"If your husband doesn't come first, the romance will dwindle and your marriage will decline."

I actually agree with each of these statements. I just happen to think you can do it all. I prefer to think that my family comes first - all three of us at once.

Societally, we are so bad at living holistically. We compartmentalise everything. So it can be a challenge to live this way.

Photo credit: Graham Detonator on flickr

It's really just an extension of our egalitarian relationship. We attempt to operate based on needs and gifts/skills/likes versus role functions. In practical terms, that means that if one of us is working more, the other does more housework. On an emotional level, that means that if one of us is having a particularly difficult time, the other provides more support.

In our family, I constantly adjust the rhythm of who needs what and when. Obviously, Dash is tiny and cannot meet her own needs. But that doesn't mean I have to meet all those needs. She has her dad and a host of loving family and friends. Some days she needs me more than others - during a developmental leap or during illness, for example. Sometimes Eric needs my undivided attention and that means assuring that Dash will be cared for either with good sleep or someone else. And sometimes I need serious self care, which means I need to trust them both in order to give myself some freedom.

Each day is give and take. I have time set aside for just me, just me and Dash, just me and Eric and all three of us. But sometimes the days look much different and we all adjust. Open communication (even Dash has her way of communicating needs!) assures we all get what we need and that everyone comes first.

Years ago I met a professor at a Quaker university who explained that her students called her by first name because it demonstrated their belief that all are equal in the family of God. I loved that idea.

In Houston, we visited the Live Oak Friends Meeting House a few times. The Skyspace there is a breathtaking way to meditate as the sun sets. We attended the Houston Peace Festival there were I was so impressed at the variety of social justice causes Quakers participate in. A modern dance company performed a piece illustrating a place where different people groups lived in harmony next to one another.

A few years ago, we toured Friends House London a part of Open House London. Again we were impressed to learn about Quaker initiatives and the diversity of Friends.


We've been in limbo regarding church attendance for a while now. When I got pregnant we hardly went because I was so ill. We felt we had outgrown our church anyway and decided it was time to move on. We have visited churches on and off the last year but never felt connected.

So a few weeks ago we started visiting Friends meetings again. Quakers in Britain are unprogrammed, meaning the meeting is silent. AboutQuakers describes this as "an active silence of a community gathered together in expectation." If one feels moved by "Inner Light" to share, they do so. Christ is the light that lives in each of us. There is no single minister because everyone is a minister. The meeting begins when the first person enters the room and ends with the shaking of hands and the exchanging of peace. (If you are really interested in Quaker faith and practice, Advices and Queries is what to read.)

It's hard to be silent for an hour. It's even hard to be silent for half an hour, which is what we do because one of us takes Dash out of the room (she begins and ends with us in the meeting). The first time neither one of us could settle into it. Years and years of "programmed" religion did not allow much space and time for quiet. Decades of works-based faith (that simultaneously claimed good works don't secure salvation) left me to interpret this sort of silence as "doing nothing."

But by our second visit, we welcomed the silence. I drank it in, really. I just listened. I struggled. I let go. I felt the Spirit in the room and inside me. It was amazing. Of course I do not expect a magical experience each time, but I am in love with the whole idea of it.

Everyone said how happy they were to have Dash there, and one woman told me she loved her ministry. My tiny baby has a MINISTRY. Merely because she exists. I have a ministry, because I exist. Eric has a ministry, because he exists. All are equal in the family of God.

I've been writing for a long time. I have shelves full of journals at my parents' house starting when I was a pre-teen. I wrote my prayers and poetry and observations to no one in particular. Journaling felt so good. It was a release, a way to process, a way to understand myself and the world.

Having my stories or poems published felt very important, even if it was just the homeschool newsletter or the community college lit mag.

Writing meant the most to me when I became ill at 18 with a mystery condition, which left me with chronic fatigue for years. In the years before I was finally diagnosed with Lyme's Disease, writing was a safe haven, and often the only place I could make sense of my feelings.

Academic writing offered an amazing challenge to bring research and structured essays together. It was also the cause of many late nights and confidence crises. Finally having my dissertation bound felt like the greatest accomplishment.

The Writer, Ruth Chaney via The Met

When I started blogging years ago, it was a small way to share my writing into the ether. It created some sort of accountability, a way to organise my ideas, a platform to offer my little insights.

So when the world is saturated with blogs and everyone has ideas about everything, I still appreciate having this corner of the internet to put my words on the metaphorical page.

Questions:
Is she sleeping through the night?
When's her next feed?
Is she good?

These questions are currently the bane of my existence.

Answers:
No.
Whenever she wants.
Of course. Because all babies are good.

When Eric and I discussed how we wanted to pursue parenting, it made the most sense to us to be responsive to our child, create a loving, secure environment, and follow our instincts. We feel this to an even greater extent now that we actually have a baby.

But I underestimated the pressure I'd feel from well-meaning folks about sleep training and feeding schedules. And I definitely didn't realise how most people associate predictable rest and eating patterns with the "goodness" of a baby.

I'm grateful that the NHS encourages breastfeeding on demand and that UK laws protect my right to breastfeed in public. Overall, I feel I've gotten good lactation support here. I babbled on to the health visitor last week about how breastfeeding is going and she finally stopped me to say, "that all sounds perfectly normal. You're doing fine." I've gotten similar feedback from several sources so I just need to relax about it. As my doula described, I'm a twenty-four hour, multimedia entertainment system as far as Dash is concerned. I can offer food, drink, comfort, relief from boredom, security, and bonding with breastfeeding, which is pretty amazing. So I'm not keen to withhold when she asks. And also - she's only eight weeks old.

Maybe some people with babies this small are sleeping through the night, but Dash has never gone more than 4 hours in the night without a feed. This bothered me until recently when I just decided not to care. I used to look at the clock every time she woke up to see how long it had been. Why? Thanks to co-sleeping and a miraculous bamboo overnight cloth diaper, neither one of us has to wake up for more than a few minutes.

She's only going to be a baby for a little while and I don't want to miss a second. Of course I'm fortunate to be on a long maternity leave, but my husband feels the same way and seeks to be mindful of every moment with her.

Better questions to ask new parents include:
What is your favourite thing about parenting?
What surprises you the most about your relationship with your baby?
What have you learned about yourself and/or your partner?
What unique characteristics do you enjoy about your baby?
How can I support you?

I had three big fears about birth:
1) A long labour
2) Driving to a hospital with contractions
3) Intervention

I faced all three before I even got to established labour. And they were all hard, but not as bad as I feared.

We arrived at the hospital around 9:30 am and got assigned to the Daisy room. I was sobbing when the midwife came in and she shared that her own birth hadn't gone according to plan but it didn't matter now that her son is here. She was very kind. She proceeded to prepare for the induction by doing a vaginal exam and actually told me that I was nearly 4 centimeters (finally!). She said she would ask the OB if I could just proceed as a normal patient if that's what I wanted. The doctor agreed and I cried from relief. No induction drugs! I resolved to deal with the pain of my existing contractions and pursue the birth I hoped for. The hospital only has one room with a birth pool and it happened to be free. It was also the only room that allowed more than two birth partners, so my mom, husband, and doula all got to stay. The midwife told me I could do it. My spirits were lifted.

The next few hours passed in a haze. I stayed active through the contractions, still exhausted, took some paracetamol, tried gas and air, attempted to snack. It was very hot that day and we were in a room with windows that didn't open and just fans.

When I got in the pool around 3, it was heaven. The water was a magical pain reliever and it finally allowed me to get some rest. I went into "labour land" and completely zoned out. I used my affirmations and natal hypnotherapy. When the contractions got too intense I would say "help me" and my husband or Mom would squeeze my hand and tell me a travel memory. Each time was some place different and the imagery and pleasant memories helped me through it. I even smiled and laughed through some contractions. One of the midwives said she'd never seem someone so calm.

I figured things were still going to take forever so I sent my husband to get dinner for himself and my mom. As soon as he got back, the midwife did a check at 6:15. She told me to feel below because my baby was coming! Everyone was so excited. The midwife told me to listen to my body and I would birth my own baby. I breathed and pushed and released for about 45 minutes. Then the midwife told me to kneel back and catch the baby. Bringing her to my chest was one of the greatest moments of my entire existence.

My husband came alongside and we stared at her and cried. The baby and I stayed in the pool until my husband cut the chord, about 30 minutes. I couldn't believe how she recognized our voices and responded to us. It was all so exhilarating.

So it wasn't the home birth I'd planned, but it was the peaceful water birth we'd hoped for. I feel really blessed that it turned out the way it did.