Hearing the call

Did I ever tell you how it was that I became a midwife?

photo from National Geographic August 1999

I had always been interested in birth. I watched my cats give birth to their kittens. I noticed pregnant bellies. I avidly watched nature films with birthing. As a high school student I saw a birth film in year 10 and clearly recall the crowning, and seeing a small tear occur, but knowing that I was seeing something sacred, and mysterious, and rarely seen.



When I had my first child I didn't understand what a midwife was. I have recently reconnected with the midwife who attended that birth, and my son turned 24 last week and we reminisced together. With my second child I had a friend who was a midwife and I read some of her books and came to better understand the role of the midwife.

As you know, that second child led me to a whole new world of discovery. I began to attend women's weekends for mothers of children with disabilities and special needs, where I was introduced to journal processing. This has been a tool to having a life, an inner life, all of my own. It is where I learned to love the questions in my life, rather than feeling I had to have all the answers.


On November 3rd 2001 I did a session where we looked at the personas we held within. The idea was to have a dialogue with one of these inner selves and uncover truths.


Now, a caveat here. Journalling is a very private experience. I have always been taught that it is never to be shared except with ones own voice. It is a private thing that can be shared with others, or done in a group, and the opportunity exists to share through reading. Listening deepens the experience, we often find resonance in other's words. Hearing oneself saying the words that have come out the end of your own pen is confronting, and affirming, and scary sometimes. It deepens the understanding, beyond just having written the words. It is a message from your soul. It is often moving beyond all measure. I have had some of the most profound experiences in my life in a journal room. Journal is secret and respected and a safe place.


So ... This is my blog. This is my erstwhile voice. And I choose to share with you some of this session, and I trust you with this sharing.

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My Secret Selves


My list: the dancer, the midwife, the counsellor, the clear thinker, the love force of the Universe


Come out, come out, whomever you are


Here I am, coming as you have called, inside you, waiting for my time to begin, talk with me, come to know me, name me, put me up as a goal in your life, DO something to reach me.


Who are you? What is your calling? Will I like you? Will the path to reach you be long and hard? Will I have to make the journey alone?


I cannot answer that question. Any path is hard. Nothing will fall in your lap. But if you want to hold the shape of a ripe belly beneath your hands you will have to give up some things. To be a midwife will be 4 years of dedication. Set a date. start towards me, you know you want to. The coursework is not beyond you.


You were born to use your hands in this way. The power of birth, the hovering of life yet unbreathed is calling you. You talk of wanting a job which encompasses all your unique set of skills...this could be the thing. It is the sensuousness of the dance, the skills and knowledge of midwifery, the feminism, the ear and shoulder and warmth of counselling, the celebrator of life and the deliverer of fully formed perfection wrapped in death. The midwife births not only joy, but sometimes sorrow and you are well equipped to accept that challenge with grace and wisdom. Be an empowerer of women, deliver them to joy and peace, treasure their bodies and their new life, nurture the family, comfort and share with them.
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Does that sound like the universe giving a wake-up call? Yeah. I thought so.


A few weeks later I told Don, and his first words were "you'd make a bloody good midwife". And the rest is history.


I love being a midwife.

Wild times

Phew - where has the last week gone?

I am back on LBS now for a short time and it has been extremely absorbing. I've resuscitated two babies, one born at term and a bit stunned, and the other a prem following CS who had suffered placental abruption. I've cared for a succession of primips who have laboured with amazing strength and determination. All have achieved vaginal birth, one by the skin of her teeth - but she was the first of her sisters to do so - the rest have all had CS. She was rapt, and was sitting up in bed with a grin on her face when I saw her the next day. I helped her to attach her baby who went on well - it was also a first for the family as her sisters felt unable to breastfeed after their experiences.


We have all been moved by meeting a young woman earlier this week who birthed alone at home unexpectedly. She presented to us in a bit of a daze with a baby in her arms, and proceeded to become very unwell within hours and ended up needing extensive treatment for high blood pressure. I will never forget her or her lovely son. She was a pleasure to care for and we all felt very protective of her, and celebrated her birthday the next day with cake in intensive care!


I had a lovely birth last night at the end of the shift. Third baby, looked a bit dodgy on trace as she was overdue, induction, meconium - sailed out and was vigorous once we got all the cord off from around her neck and body! The woman laboured fantastically, only looked fussed for the last 10 minutes. A beautiful birth kneeling at the end of the bed, then jumped into her clean unused bed whereupon baby saddled up for a long feed immediately. Perfect.


I have done some compulsory in-service training, and had my performance appraisal - it felt like a big assignment I had due! I have yet to finish the quite extensive breastfeeding component but that will be done soon, once I have minutes out of the way again. I have even caught up with my mentee.


I have wrapped up my sessions with the counsellor for now. I feel I am in a good place but it was well worth seeing her for a while for a tune-up.


In addition to multiple work engagements there have been birthdays, and dinners and I am getting stirred by the thought of our upcoming travel and some creative pursuits.


It was my sister's birthday last Monday and she had requested a Wild Woman so I set to work to meet her request for a greenish one with surface detail. This is April.
My sister plans to put her in a box frame. (for the record, WW are all around 4 1/2 inches tall)



April is the latest in a series of WW I have been working on behind the scenes. This one has been a WIP for a while, but I'm fairly sure she is finished now. Her name is Magnon. I love her encrusted dome and translucent face, and earthy feet.



The next is a flibberty-gibbet. She's quite young I feel. Her name is Nymph, she tells me. She seems to be emerging from a sweet pea bud. I'm not sure yet if she is fully formed but she insisted on being photographed with the others nonetheless. I bow to her wishes.


For the last of my craft show and tell I introduce my Midwife Warrior. I made her about 3 years ago. She came to me in a meditation, similar to No More Plain Jane,(pictured towards the end of the post) in fact it was also on a journalling weekend.
In the meditation we were moving to a chakra spirit trance piece Did you realize I liked that sort of thing? I don't get to do it very often but I feel amazing when I do. Anyway...we were dancing with our eyes shut, feeling whatever it was that came, and I was swaying quite broadly, slowly, side to side. I had an image of being in a group and swaying in a square-like fashion facing the 4 winds in turn, protecting something behind me. I felt strong, solid and sheltering like an elephant. Once I had turned all ways, in a distant corner I had a sense of a woman dressed in white trailing robes billowing as if in a breeze. She felt strong and purposeful and immmensely wise. I breathed in her presence and absorbed such a feeling of calm connectedness. We were brought back to the room by the facilitator speaking quietly, urging us to move to our workspaces and to write or draw what came to us. Later that day we learned how to take a flat piece of cloth and shape it and bind it and wrap it and let it speak to us as it connected with or meditation. Mine became the woman in white.
She has ended up with a pregnant belly, and breasts. And is anatomically suggestive of a birthing woman. She has amethysts for wisdom and emotional healing. She has a patchwork papoose on her back to carry her babe. She has rose quartz and butterflies. She has bandolier style embellishments to guard herself and those she protects. She has flowing white robes. She has a carved bone elephant hanging from one arm. I've since found out that female elephants do stand in a circle with their backs to the labouring female to protect her from predators in all directions. Howzat?!!!! She has an ancient chinese coin to symbolise wisdom. She has a carved wooden owl for wisdom and a nursing symbol. She carries a beacon in her right hand because as a new midwife I was being 'passed the torch'. She is a warrior for midwifery, for women. One of her most poignant touches is the lighthouse charm around her neck - a friend brought it to be part of the art supplies that weekend, and it was then that I realised that I was the lighthouse. It was about me spilling light into the world. It was the perfect finishing touch to her.


So there you have it. I am feeling light-filled at the moment.
It is good to be in this place.


Happy Easter to you all.

Interview me

My turn. (gulp) I volunteered via Rhubarb Whine. I've also seen it recently on Chapter III, Frogdancer, and others.



Bloggers volunteer to be subjects, and then you send them five probing questions by email. So here are my answers to the five questions Rhubarb asked me. In return, I invite any of you to email me or leave a comment saying ‘interview me’, and I’ll ask you five searing questions (I'll try not to embarass anybody).





1. You make references to op shopping fairly regularly. Laura, what is it about op shops that have you hooked, and what is your best ever find?
They are retail therapy at their most affordable. They involve recycling. Someone once loved that stuff, I might too, although there is frequently some very unloveable stuff. Mostly I love the thought of being able to get great quality fabrics, that are different from current fabric full-price, that makes interesting bags, quilts, etc. Its my own version of limited edition!

Some of it is nostalgia. My depression glass collection is a case in point. I only collect the clear heavier stuff, although I do have a soft spot for the glasses with a coloured bottom half with etched top bands from the fifties (my Nanna had them). I also inherited a gorgeous glass bowl of that era from my late mother-in-law (whom I never met) which was squarish, yet a folded up circle with curved semicircular top edges. It was broken by someone (18 yrs ago) while they were doing my washing up (bless them) and I miss it to this day. I s'pose I hope I'll find another one.

Best bargains? A Zegna tweed coat (made in Italy from Australian wool) for my son a few weeks ago for $8. Another Zegna suit spotted for $25 - not bought, my husband doesn't wear double breasted suits. Fabric galore, many designer business/casual shirts for a song, ostensibly for cutting up for quilts/bags but many snaffled for hubby. Op-shops are the place to buy your knitting needles (does their experience rub off?) and classic sewing patterns for next to nothing. And of course the recent Xmas tree banditry!

Yesterday I found another pretty glass bowl just right for jelly, in a pattern I hadn't seen before. And a small fabric bag with a lighthouse on it!

2. You are so very passionate in your writing, about your career and work in midwifery. If Government powers enabled huge funding additions to your speciality nursing, what would you like to see it spent on? Why?

First, can I pickily point out that midwifery is a separate profession to nursing and that one doesn't need to be a nurse in order to be a midwife. That said, I have no regrets about my dual qualifications.

I would love to see women better educated about the role of the midwife in the provision of care to child-bearing women. In Australia if a woman wants to see the same carer throughout her pregnancy - because these things do and should matter - then she will mostly attend a private obstetrician, because the medical and health insurance system is weighted that way in this country. There are very few private health insurance providers that offer coverage for the engagement of a private midwife to provide antenatal care, intrapartum care (labour and birth) and postnatal care. Yet a midwife is able to do all this for a well woman experiencing a normal pregnancy. Where there are conditions that fall outside the scope of 'normal' a midwife will refer for another opinion from a obstetrician colleague, who may be able to treat/advise/manage the arising condition and return her to the care of the midwife for the remainder of the pregnancy or who will take over the care for longer standing/more complex problems.

When it comes to labour and birth, women are also at the mercy of the funding models. Medicare provider numbers, i.e. the ability to raise a fee for consulting or service provided in the health system are currently restricted to doctors. Unfortunately most of the services that a midwife is qualified to offer a woman, so is a doctor - who can charge a fee for which the woman receives a rebate from the government. This is a Federal funding issue. And the rights to practice in a public hospital are also (in the vast majority) restricted to doctors. So there is an overlap of practise where the woman does not receive a rebate for services from midwife A, but gets one from doctor B. Who gets the market share do you think?

The largesse you have created for the purposes of this interview could be spent on Medicare provider numbers for midwives, opening more birthing centres; where well, low-med risk women can give birth with good medical back-up is available in case of need to transfer (for meconium, excessive pain, obstructed labour) and encourage women to use water immersion for labour and birth. Of course the government will find it saves them money in the long run, with a much lower CS rate. (ooh, is that the sound of a hobby horse galloping off into the distance?)

Of course, two to three generations ago, around half of babies were born at home. There was less dependence on doctors as saviours and more just getting on with it. No epidurals, no restrictions on labour and birth due to CTG monitoring. CS was used pretty judiciously as an emergency. Breech babies were just born. Women had more children then, compared to now, where our hopes per se are tied to fewer eggs in our baskets. Food for thought, but the intervention and CS rate is unacceptably high. I blame the insurance companies and the American obsession with suing people, which has been contagious worldwide and leads to excessive risk management in practice. Then again, its not usually my ass being sued.

Moving on.

3. On the subject of careers, you often refer to your 'late' entry into the field. Inquiring minds want to know other jobs you have over the years - from the sublime to the ridiculous. Anything noteworthy or 'out there' to confess to?

Was hired as an elephant rider in the circus once - is that what you mean? Never got to do it cos I couldn't travel for the next two months, I had to go back to uni. I did work at the same circus as an usherette though, and had a great two weeks in the Big Top amid the sawdust!

Other jobs include: phlebotomist, bakery assistant icing the Jubilee Twists, babysitter, silver-service waitress in the 80's hey-dey restaurant the Mediterranean, Barmaid, projection assistant at the drive-ins, (I saw Close Encounters of the Third Kind 23 times), professional dancer in the 'white slave circuit' in Asia (I had my head screwed on, I had a ball though)...umm...lab technician in a USDA agricultural biochemistry lab in Wisconsin isolating and analysing the proteins from the endosperm of barley with applications for brewing (yes I did understand that sentence), Dressing up as a giant novelty character for a shopping centre promotion for icecream, chemistry tutor, belly dancer, proof reader, acting patient advocate for a large public children's hospital...how long have you got? I have never been out of work when I wanted it.

4. You are a textile junkie and love crafts and fabrics. Your passion for crafts is often referred to. Laura - is there anything you cannot do or wish you could do?

I am NOT the most original painter, or drawer either. I really am quite bad at knitting, but DID knit 3 things for myself in my teens, and a jumper each for my children, all of which were not laughable. I haven't given up yet. I've never tried lace-making but I'm not holding my breath. I am capable of most tasks I set my mind to. Can't quite be assed to get into scrapbooking, its a bit formulaic and often a bit twee for my taste, but I'm willing to incorporate elements as multi-media creations (she says pretentiously). I do now own quite a large collection of said elements (thanks to my sis for an awesome Xmas present) that are waiting to be fallen upon in a quiet creative moment as yet unscheduled. They're non-perishable right?

5. OK, left field time. In closing, I want you to share something a little deeper. Laura - what humbles you?

The ability of the human body. Function and form, baby. Birth, breathing, orgasm, dance, touch, creativity. God was one hell of a physiologist eh? All witnessed in my working life. Its bloody incredible, I wouldn't miss it for the world. Who'd be dead eh?

Also...feeling loved, and loveable. This time last year I was on very shaky ground. I am glad to have arisen again, more aware of my humility and fragility. Feeling raised up with the help of others. Very humbling, feeling loved. I (now think that I) am worthy of love.

'Nuff said

If you’d like to join the fun, it’s simple.
Send me an email or a comment saying ‘interview me’.
I will then email you with five questions that I choose.
You can then answer them on your blog.
You should also post these rules along with an offer to interview anyone else who emails you or comments that they want to be interviewed.

What a week

I try to take things one day at a time, but lately several lifetimes have hit me at once.

OK so its an old saying, but this week has been MAD! I don't know whether I'm Arthur or Martha.

Don's away. I've worked four shifts since Sunday. We seem to be a bit in 'shit magnet' mode. Nothing earth-shattering, but just stressful, and a lot to take in all at once. I'm not sleeping too well either, so if I seem a bit whiny...sorry.

My daughter has had a meltdown at TAFE and needs a Disability Support Advisor meeting - which had to wait until today because I've worked every day this week. Also last week our son Patty was told his co-lessee wasn't willing to sign with him again, so he would have to live elsewhere. Sigh. The Perth rental market is appallingly expensive and rare and it had taken 6 weeks for them to find that dogbox anyway. What a pain for him, rejection and facing the prospect of moving back home to his sister's music at deafening volumes on the other side of the wall from his bed. GAH! The gall of it. He says it's his only objection to moving back (do you hear the empty nest dream slipping away?).

So last Friday I had a wobbly nearly 19 year old, a downcast 22 year old, a cabin-fevered re-entry post nightshift me trying to figure out WHEN in March would be a good time to deal with all the appointments, weddings and required presents, travel away to Japan (and shop for host gifts) AND move our large son and his stuff back into a single room in our house at the exact time we were away, and have him start uni again doing 3 subjects for the first time in years, and work night shift....lah, lah, lah....feeling of rising panic.....

So, today, I was on my way to the TAFE appointment (via a lightning lunch with Lesley and the girls) and Steff messaged me to bring her correct kitchen shoes - Gah - already late - then on backtrack home I realised that I hadn't brought the whole Stephanie reports file I had got out to take to the meeting anyway - double Gah!

Flew in the door, grabbed stuff, got stuck in roadworks on way there, took a call from my rostering manager who had LOST my 5 months old note about going to Japan in the March roster and wanted me to work night shift in that fortnight O.M.G. (calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean). I could fit in 2 before I left and only had to do 3 afterwards if I did nightshift so I said yes.

Screeched up the driveway to TAFE 15 mins late, briefly tried again to call the DSA to tell her of lateness, and she answered this time - and told me she was stuck 3/4 hour away as she had just had a (minor) car accident and wasn't going to get back in time so we would have to reschedule. Phew. Threw daughter out of car again, pouting, back to class with money for the drink machine (small sop to sulks to prevent repeat of last weeks meltdown). Bye hon, pick you up at 9.15 tonight!

Drove home again, regretting having left lunch at all, sigh, but anticipating having some time to myself for the first time in 2 weeks. NO. Adorable son home, eating his way through food earmarked for other purposes, including my dinner of leftovers for when I was home by myself, praise the Lord! No such luck. Lucky his Mum loves him.

I then went to mark the nightshifts on my calendar and realised I had unwittingly agreed to work ALL OVER EASTER ON NIGHT SHIFT prior to going on holidays for 2 weeks. Sigh. Save me from myself, someone. Please. Anyone? What a moron. However as I had little other choices due to not being in the country for most of the roster I just chalked it up to shit happens and laughed. I did call her back and tell her that I was laughing at my own expense. Quite hard. If you don't laugh you'll cry. And it might (might) save me from eating so much chocolate - oh who am I kidding.... May I introduce my current coping method.

I also have a houseguest at the moment who is delightful and I never get to see enough of her (because she lives on the other side of the country), and now she is here I have worked 4 shifts since she arrived - go figure. She is with us because her daughter has had a prem baby last weekend. A dear little fellow called Max, who is sweet and scrawny, but his Mum has a good milk supply so hopefully he will be fattening up soon and be able to head home where they can enjoy him all to themselves (because that's where parents and babies should be). It is so good to have her here, as we live close to the maternity hospital and she can see the little family readily, and ask lots of questions about prem babies (some of which I can help with). She is also very warm and wise and is lovely with Steff who is missing her Dad and her morning routine of getting off to TAFE with him. And she knows what it is like to have a touchy daughter with little niggly habits, and doesn't interfere just helps debrief after the flurry is over. Always positive. Very wise.

Baby Max is about 5 weeks prem, and being so little I feel he needed a tiny cot-friend that doesn't dwarf him, so I made him a little rabbit. I had an old yukata (a Japanese bathrobe) with lovely fine stripes, and teamed it with some fine cotton twill. I got the pattern here. Isn't he sweet?

He has a dear little tail too. See?

I think i'll make his Mum and Dad a journal covered in that little stripe for their thoughts about the time of his birth.

I've also had a pretty average week at work, STILL no babies to call my own since Jan 6th (I'll whine and whine until I get one - you know this don't you? And then I'll want MORE). And I have only seen 2 normal births (one of which had a PPH as I described, and the student midwife got the birth) The other had a beautiful natural fast birth (her fourth, and the resident doctor got the birth) and then the Mum cried out "what's wrong with my baby's hand?" It turned out she had a congenital hand defect with fused and absent digits so it looked like a flipper. All else was fine, the baby vigorous, and fed quickly after birth, but I'll never forget the tone of shock in the mother's voice as she was the first to notice the individuality her daughter was born with. She was quite withdrawn for the next half an hour, then after the feed we checked her out thoroughly and Mum felt the finger bones within the hand and we started thinking she would have a very usable hand after a few tweaks and divisions of skin. Mum was cheering up a bit by then, and decided she wouldn't tell her husband until he came for a visit later that day. That was some really fast adaptation I witnessed. Good for her.

I've had a mum with really severe pre-eclampsia at 27-ish weeks who was too sick to wait and had to have the baby by CS that day. I also had another woman from the country by ambulance labouring with a transverse lying baby at 32 weeks who needed a CS quick smart! I had almost NOTHING with me and the poor little mite went to the nursery with a blood gas syringe wrapper around his leg stuck together with a Mum's label as his ID tag, and his history literally on the back of an envelope. I just smiled and handed him over real quick!

Yesterday I had another large woman in early labour following an induction for postdates. Her hubby sat on the couch and played an electronic game for the first two hours. I nearly kicked him. I needed all my skills to keep him engaged, but she was really willing to work with me, and we kept her out of bed and upright for hours at a time. I needed to hold the FHR on to her tummy most of the time, but she never once complained. She moved from bed to walking and swaying, and gradually really got going. I reminded her that just because she wasn't allowed to birth at her local hospital it didn't mean that she wasn't capable of giving birth beautifully, and that I loved the way she was doing all the right things, and staying upright, and working with me and her body to surrender to the process. I gradually drew him in to massage and support her on the birthing ball and reminded them that this was the completion of the togetherness that had created this baby. Things were going to get hot and heavy and they needed each other to stick with it. By the time I left he was firmly by her side, slightly in awe of the trance like state she was in, and the evident heavy breathing. However by the time I left the docs insisted on a fetal scalp electrode and an intrauterine pressure transducer for monitoring, which was effective, but she found painful. They also heavily recommended an epidural for her which she clearly hadn't wanted to have, but after having her rythm disturbed in that last 30 minutes by the examinations and invasive monitoring she was agreeing to. We had a big hug and a bit more slow dancing and I left her to the night staff with a prediction that she would have her baby vaginally around 1-ish in the morning and that she would show those docs that big gorgeous girls had beautiful bodies that could BIRTH!!!! This morning I woke and couldn't settle until I rang and found out the outcome - a vaginal birth at 1.52am!!! just on 4kg. A boy!! I was doing the happy dance! I'm so glad for them both, I really wish I could have been there. I almost feel I can claim him. She unfortunately had a PPH (which is an increased risk after heaps of syntocinon for induction) but it wasn't too catastrophic (only one litre, only :( poor love ). I am so proud of her.

I do love being a midwife, just not mid-machina. Slow dancing and whispering encouragement to that woman last night was the best shift I've had in ages. And still the docs barged in and took her over. Was it me? Was I not advocating strongly enough? Was I challenging them too much when I said I was happy to hold the FHR and palpate the contractions. Her progress was slow-ish but fine. Baby was OP, we were mobilising well, give us time and feck off! I only have 3 more shifts in LBS, and I am beginning to wonder whether I need to start looking for a move into a more low-risk environment - but who will support and work positively with high -risk women in that setting, and can I leave my stretched and exhausted sister midwives to struggle on without my additional shoulder to the wheel?

But where is that wheel heading? I want to put it in reverse! Who is steering? I am beginning to feel less in control in that environment. Sadly I know there are those who will say..."welcome to the real world" in a hard-bitten tone. I don't want to lose my enthusiasm, or my zeal, or my passion, but it is not always rewarded in the workplace, just regarded as a temporary oddity, or with pity waiting for me to wake up and surrender my passion to the machine. I feel under threat from the system. I don't want to abandon colleagues at the pointy end, it feels like a cop-out, but I don't want to lose my gloss or radiance. It must be possible to practise woman centred holistic care in these places. I have much thinking to do. In my spare time...

SO...sorry to whine so much. Its taken me nearly 2.5 hours to post this. You'll all (6 of you) turn off and un-link me, I don't blame you. I'm over myself too! I'll try and be more sunny next time you visit. (hmm ...I can hear the freezer calling).

I have nearly TWO more hours of me time !

Works in progress

We've all got them. Some of us have rooms full of them.

I consider myself to be one.

Which will I attend to today?

The winner of yesterday's WIP lottery was the swap-journal - it was due to be posted to MB (Hi MB) in the Mojave Desert of CA - don'tcha just love the sound of that? The Mojave desert. Mo-har-vay. With Joshua trees and all. Mmmm Mmm. We passed through the Joshua Tree Forest in Arizona on our recent trip to the Grand Canyon- but the video I took is stuck in the video camera - long story.

I mostly made the journal two weeks ago using fabric I have had stashed for around ten years. I took my colour choice from a post of MB's about 'if I can't live near the ocean I will surround myself with blue'. I also know she has been having a rough family time lately so wanted it (the journal) to seem a bit dreamy in quality. And so this marbled style fabric seemed the go.

I'm quite pleased with it. It has free motion embroidery / quilting all over it with words about journalling using thread I previously used to quilt my daughter's underwater quilt (more of the ocean theme).
To finish it off I made a cord from some toning threads and made Chinese frog closures. I thought it would be fiendishly difficult as I am essentially quite knot challenged, but I was shocked to be able to use my first effort on the cover! See? This is the front edge.And that's the back looped over the front frog button. Phew. Along with a bundle of a few Aussie scenery books (probably not suitable for airmail posting but what the heck) and a chocolate or two and it was OFF!

Another WIP off the list! Making space for another one to be planned, cut out, ... left ... halfway through.... interrupted, sigh.

Its a good thing that fabric is non-perishable. That way our stashes last forever! I do have so many textile plans. I will have to live until I am ninety to get them all done - as long as I still have my eyesight and my marbles...

I think I'm regaining my marbles, by the way :)

Happy listmaking

Happy 2008.

There...that sounds like a plan doesn't it?

Natalie over at Chicken Blog made an inspiring post a few days ago (as is her frequent habit, love that woman and her blog), and talked about 'don't believe everything you think'. She has also spread the idea of a list of '10 achievements I'm glad I did' from various other bloggers. So...catching that bug, and in no particular order here are mine.

1. Went back to uni and studied nursing and midwifery. Good Plan. Very rewarding, very fulfilling, a perfect match for me. It combines all of my interests and skills.
2. Having my two children. They have been the making of me in many ways.
3. Got into quilting and craft. Another very fulfilling part of my life. I'll have a go at anything.
4. Journalling. An outlet and an inlet into my life and myself.
5. Travelled. Been to lots of places. Seen amazing things (the Northern lights, a Tibetan Buddhist temple in India with 100 monks chanting in full regalia). Did a lot in 2007. And plan to do more. This year we return to Japan for a brief visit. Love it.
6. Qualified for mother's camp. Great people. Lifelong friends. Shared experiences. Punya homework (you had to be there - long adult story). It has changed my life.
7. Made a decision to revive my marriage. Falls into the 'don't believe everything you think' category. Major pay-off in the 'for better or worse' category. Those vows mean alot to me. As they should. Every year (and day lately) I appreciate Don more and more.
8. Danced. Anywhere, anytime. Used to be a professional dancer (for real). Also delighted to have been a belly dancer in my 30's. If you ask me what I am, I am a dancer and a midwife.
9. Flew on a trapeze. 4 times. Weighing 102kg. With a somersault dismount. Yeh. Such a physical high. Terrifying but exhilarating. There are photos!
10. Got involved. With lots of things that came my way, mostly as a volunteer. Rich personal rewards. Who'd be bored?

Hmm, suspicious that none of the above involves keeping a tidy house - did you spot that? I haven't noticed it on anyone else's list either.

Looked after a couple having their first baby today. Pushed for hours, finally got that dear boy out with forceps up in theatre. Gorgeous little fella just shy of 9lbs. Huge head. Tears of joy (even I misted up a bit-Dad was blubbing). A vaginal birth achieved with a huge effort from the woman, me, and all the team. Good assessment, a tight fit, but achieved. Phew.

Wonder what their list of 10 things will be?

Evidence of love

I am loved.

The evidence is here.

Somehow, lately, I have got myself in a complete tizz about being unloved and unloveable. The therapist described it as a core belief. Its quite an obsessive thought deep, deep down. I didn't realise how deep it went but I now know it has been there all my life. Long story.

While feeling very wobbly over the last months I decided to try NOT cheering myself up when I was wobbly, just as a test to see how much of my natural bubbly personality was a result of me gee-ing myself up and how much came from outside sources. BAD IDEA FOLKS - DON'T try this at home. Not even if you are a trained professional.

Such a dumb idea. So dumb. IQ the size of a small planet and I thought it was a good idea (because I am depressed and not making good choices). I thought that I had obviously been duping myself into being a happy little soul for years when no-one actually loved me because I was unloveable. But if I was cheerful and witty and kind and clever people would keep me around and I would feel like I belonged because I was at least useful, which was almost as good as being loved for myself.

So I turned her off. The self-nurturer. The cheerer-uperer. And she has been surprisingly difficult to turn back on. I discovered this last weekend.

I had had a reasonable week at work last week, caught a few babies, and had a day off on Friday. My husband and I had a bit of time to oursleves and were spending some quality time and sharing some stuff together. And it pushed some buttons for me (my buttons are HUGE at the moment. And invisible to all, including me.) So I then spent the next 24 hours feeling immensely and increasingly unloved and unloveable and abandoned. Sigh. And the thing that really undid me was getting up on Saturday and feeling very wobbly and anxious, and then I saw these.

DH had got them for me while out shopping for groceries. He does things like that sometimes. So how could I not know I am loved? I fled back to bed (after sobbing in the loo) and had an anxiety attack. Not fun. Not in the least. Was I going mad? Or is it just that my vulnerability buttons are huge at the moment? DH was great. Applied lots of TLC. Kept me safe. Got me down off the ceiling. Helped me pick up the apples from the applecart that were rolling all over the floor. Got me to work that afternoon. Where I was fine if a bit shaken.

We went to the therapist on Monday and told her about my weekend. And she explained about the core beliefs thing. And I told her about the self-nurturer thing. And she told me to turn her back on cos we need to balance self-nurturing with outside nurturing and its too hard to expect it ALL to come from outside. Which I'd realised many years ago and was partly how I got so good at doing it for myself, and why I (felt) I was so happy. I felt I was so happy and fulfilled that I was filled with light. I was so filled with light that it radiated out of every pore, I couldn't turn it off if I tried.

My son had loved lighthouses as a small child and I always had a soft spot for them. He grew out of them and then I realised that my sentimentality was more than nostalgia, it was related to this inspiring light filled image and then at a workshop 2 years ago I realised I WAS the lighthouse, a beacon, radiant. What an experience.

I came to understand that it has all sorts of spiritual connotations, religious significance, new age connections and that it was a huge symbolic object. And I was OK with all of it. I was grown up, mature, insightful, confident and self-assured. I had it all together and was comfortable in my own skin. (And I was happy to have a new thing to collect :) ) I didn't talk about the light thing much to anyone, just me and my journal really, and maybe a few friends. It felt really private. But I include images of lighthouses in many of my creations (see necklace below)

And then this period of depression happened. The slide was gradual at first, and I thought I had enough insight and had done plenty of inner growth work in the past to have had it sorted out. I thought I was over all my self esteem issues, but clearly I wasn't. And I lost the sense of myself as a light filled being. A friend who knows about the lighthouses sends me pictures of them with light and energy pushed into them, but I still felt only flickering. I thought of a pool light to lend me some light as I felt I was underwater! Even that image only lifted me briefly. And then this arrived yesterday.

Oh Lesley thankyou so much. I had opened it (my Xmas present) early as I thought it would be one of her darling little wonky funky Christmas birds and I hadn't even got any decorations up yet, so I opened it to get at least something Christmassy underway. And then this beauty emerged. I was misty with pleasure and delight, and it was just what I needed. It will never be far from me, ever, for the rest of my life. Even if it was Christmassy I would keep it out 365 days per year.

The only thing I want for Christmas this year is love.

And I have it. From many sources. Here's to re-shaping crappy core beliefs with the evidence to the contrary.

A pair of journals in the garden

A pair of journals in the garden
Originally uploaded by Laura 61 via my new Flickr account

This is what I did for the One Hour Craft Journal Swap, but I didn't hear from my partner until a few days ago and we've decided between ourselves to delay our exchange until January (due to mutual family crises). However I have uploaded the photos to Mia's Flickr site to take part anyway. And then I found out that I could upload a photo from my Flickr account to my blog...OMG, I feel like a complete genius!

It was so nice to hear from her (Marybeth) and she was really excited to have an Aussie partner, however I have been looking at her blogsite and I think I will make her a different journal/altered book, as she (like me) is keen on altered books - that also function as journals.

I have been cleaning for the last two days (yes, its true). I called a friend who has been down (as well) lately and is turning the corner too. We were mutually confessing to the appalling state of the clutter in our houses, and how overwhelmed we (and our husbands) felt by it. Where to start - and using WHAT source of energy?

So ... being the daring soul that I am, I suggested we photograph the clutter as 'Before' and see if we couldn't make a dent in it, and then shoot 'After' shots. Anything for motivation. Sigh. My name is Laura and I am a hoarder. It runs in my family (thats my excuse). I did send the bedroom shots to her, but I am too embarassed to post them to y'all. (Should I do a post entitled "I'll show you mine if you show me yours"?)

However seeing that I am quite keen to be getting on with some craft projects, and that there is not a surface left in the back 2 rooms on which to DO anything, I decided to bite the bullet. I found some 'too-hard' boxes that I shoved on a wardrobe in 1996 - well, clearly that is no longer important enough to keep - OUT it goes. I have ditched all sorts of bits and pieces. Lycra from 1994 - Goodbye! Old PTA stuff from the nineties? Hospital committee stuff from a similar period? Hmm. Decoupage papers - keep - they can be part of my scrapbooking / book altering. New uses for old stuff. Out go the old lampshades that I might have re-covered. Out goes the hideous sounding echo tube toy that I had hidden from a child - it sounded extremely weird disappearing into the goodwill bin across from my house. Boxes of crap that I am exceptionally unlikely to miss.

The floors throughout were swept and vacuumed. Vacuuming - now there's another pleasure when you can really see where you've been. I'll (maybe) wash them tomorrow morning. I have made new smaller piles of stuff, and haven't yet tackled the accumulated stack of 6 years of university study work. Do I really need to keep EVERY note I took? Probably not, but I might save that for another day.

I can't wait for my SIL to re-claim (i.e. remove) the twin foam mattresses that have been looming in my vision for months. As I no longer have housefuls of drunken band members/mates of my son crashing for the night I can do without them. Yay! For now, however, they are forming a makeshift settee in the second TV room, but they ARE going! They are next to a new pile of op-shopping from last week's efforts to keep myself calm, but that will be tackled (i.e. cut out for bags/pouches/ dolls/purses) very shortly.

Tomorrow I have a friend coming for lunch with her hubby and two of her three children. She is about to move across the country (sniff) and I birthed her baby Thomas in February. He is just THE most adorable little guy and I will miss them both like crazy. My heart leaps with utter joy whenever I see them both. They've been cleaning out too - but EVERYTHING - and putting it into a container (including the Barbie house and Ferrari from my cleanout) and are literally camping on the carpet until they leave on Saturday.

And Don is away at the moment, way on the other side of Oz. Its his birthday tomorrow, and he will be home late that evening, and I would like the house to look more respectable when he arrives than when he left. Judging by the 'before' photos that wouldn't be hard. It will be (like) his birthday present. I am missing him, and look forward to his return. I just want to be joined at hip with him lately, its probably good for me.

Anyway, this post has been interrupted by TWO phonecalls so I had better be off and let the (relatively) patient daughter onto the computer. She was a big help with the tossing out today!

See ya

The 8th already?

How did it get to be November 8th already? I just blinked and the weeks flew by.I've been away for the weekend and at work for three days after that so I guess that accounts for 6 days.

My weekend away was for the twice-annual Kalparrin Mother's respite weekend camp. This is a group of women who are linked by all being mothers of children with special needs, and we go away together twice a year to have a kidless, husbandless weekend to rediscover ourselves in the midst of our busy, often chaotic, lives. I have attended 32 of these events since November 1989 and they have genuinely shaped my life (and continue to do so).

We arrive on Friday early evening and settle in to our accomodation, usually a large house or dormitory style setting. We hold an introductions session, where old friends and new gather and set the scene for the weekend, sometimes with a theme. We are then released to socialise and catch up with our colleagues (this is a peer conference, remember) and often have a late night chatting. It takes a lot of effort to get mothers away for a weekend alone, so we make our time count. There are workshops over the weekend for fun, or more serious stuff like journalling, and a dinner event and dancing on Saturday night. There's pampering too - reflexology, Reiki, massages, manicures and counselling if required. Its really great.

When I first attended camp my daughter's paediatrician arranged to have her admitted to hospital and be specialled for the weekend, so I could feel secure enough to go without burdening my husband with sole care of her and our 3 year old. At the time she was naso-gastric tube fed and had massive reflux with violent retching, gagging and cyanosing followed by projectile vomiting. She often threw up her tube which had to be reinserted before the next feed on a 3 hourly round the clock cycle. The worst day for replacement was 6 tubes in one day, but it was usually (only) 2 per day. Every tube replacement meant she had to be restrained and she naturally fought and gagged the insertion. All this to keep her alive, because she had almost no instincts to be hungry and only cried with hunger and swallowed milk (my expressed breast milk) in a coordinated fashion about 5 times in her first two years of life. Those few minutes are precious memories that still make us misty eyed.

Anyway...this nasogastric torture /feeding hassle continued for a year at which point a gastrostomy tube was inserted directly into her stomach. She continued to be a non-oral feeder (and massive vomiter) until the age of 2 when, after an intensive behaviour modification therapy program, she learned that her mouth was not just an exit point, but that she could learn to be an 'eating girl' and put (smooth) food into her mouth and swallow without gagging. Triumph!! We had an 'Eating Girl' party! We invited all our family and friends and supporters and therapists and celebrated Stephanie's oral eating triumphs. It was pretty cool. We weren't completely out of the special needs woods but it was a massive improvement. And I continued to cope by meeting with my colleagues at regular camps and supporting others (and sometimes being supported by them).

This weekend was the 50th camp to be held so the theme was "All that glitters is gold". We had a special ceremony to honour the early organisers of the mother's camps and those who have continued to be involved, including the first-timers who are the future of the organisation. We scattered rose petals, held hands, laughed and cried, looked at photos, journalled, gasped to see long-lost friends, caught up on news, ate and drank heartily, and gave thanks for the gold in our lives - in all its forms. Whether found in the dirt at our feet like alluvial gold nuggets, or panned for with careful examination in the light of day, or blasted out of deep deposits with dangerous dynamite and extracted by acid and cyanide digest - these are the ways to get gold. We, as a group, have used all methods and understand the value of the flecks or nuggets we hold. We were offered these images, and challenged to refashion our gold if it didn't suit us in the current form. At the end we all took home small packets of gold hearts, with some glitter to add other sparkle to our lives, to remind us of the gold we had shared that weekend and to keep.

I didn't feel up to too much gold and glitter this weekend, but dressed all in white to glow a little, with a sparkly heart brooch instead to remind myself that I am loved. The weekend did however remind me of how lucky I am to have such a group of thoughtful, insightful women to belong to, and how much they have sustained me on my journey as a mother and a woman. We would be very happy to never have another mother qualify for the group, but we have been privileged to share many life experiences - before, during and, sadly, after disability - and we are all the richer for it. We laugh and laugh, and may not see each other between camps but we share a very intimate life in so many ways.

So this is some of the background that I bring to my craft as a midwife. People ask did I become a midwife because I like babies? Or because I was inspired by the nurses and midwives who cared for us in our contacts with disability? Well, yes and no. I like babies immensely, but I am more interested in the containers they come in - in women, and families. To see a baby in the context of its parents, and family - THAT is the complete picture. Otherwise I might as well be a paediatric nurse , which is not my calling.

I understand the big picture, that a baby, per se, is not the be all and end all to family life. I know that when a child is born with a disability that the important thing is that a child is born. And that the important thing when a couple become parents of a child with special needs is that they have become parents. Four months in utero, four minutes of life, four years or four score years, that connection between parent and child is immutable. As a midwife I work in this field of transformation, and I love to see that understanding dawn in the families I work with. It gives you hope.

So, where was I? ...having a lovely camp took up a few days. Then I went back to work where I am beginning to find my feet and feel competent. My brain is now finishing the shift with me, and no longer waking me up at night with things it has just remembered from the late shift!

Hmm long post, kids hovering, got a cold and feel like crap (how do tracheas hurt anyway?). Lots to do, including finishing the new Ultimate Purple Bag (2/3rds done). To the shower!