Mary's Birth Story: What Matters

So often when we get caught up criticizing each other, bemoaning the typical standard of care in hospitals, and talking to death what evidence-based maternity care looks like, we are overlooking something big. For the eons that humans have walked this earth, women have been having babies. Many women and babies died; many did not as evidenced by the current world population. We are moving backwards in maternal outcomes in the United States, and a disturbing number of people think it's normal if not acceptable.

I love to read birth stories in general, but this year I felt like I had an inside joke with the long-deceased mother of Christ. Mary's story is a birth story. How funny that two thousand years later millions of people recount and ponder the moments in which she experienced what is one of the most profound moments in a mother's life: birth, the process by which our babies move through our bodies and into our arms. I'm not going to delve into the spiritual side, which I do believe exists, but the human side. For those of of faith, one of the biggest mysteries of that faith is the fact that Jesus was fully divine and fully human. Whether you're following that train of thought or believe that the story is a slice of history or a myth, thanks for reading and bear with me. References to follow once I have all of my bookmarks and books at my fingertips.

She was likely lonely and afraid, not as the mother of the Word made Flesh, but as a teenage girl away from home about to give birth in a strange place without her mother, sisters, or aunts to serve as her guides. I bet I was the only one in church last night imagining what laboring on a donkey would have felt like, imagining what might possibly be going through this girl's mind.

Did she pray? Did she cry? Did her fiancée wipe her brow and hold her? Odds are good that she was not lying on her back with her knees pulled into her chest as the shepherds counted to ten. I'd guess she was drawn instinctively to the warmest, darkest corner of the stable or space. She probably lifted her dusty skirts and squatted just like any good ancient would to defecate. Her baby probably gently landed on cloths, straw or Joseph's waiting hands. The sound of his first grunts and cries were likely the sweetest thing she'd ever heard. Nobody rushed to clamp and cut the cord, no overly anxious nurse whisked him to the other side of the room to be weighed and measured. She probably waited, took that moment to exhale, and reached for him. She probably sat back and opened her garment to place him on her chest where he nursed his fill and slept.

In those days, I can only imagine that a woman prayed to survive pregnancy, give birth to a live and full-term child, not to die of infection or blood loss postpartum, and to remain healthy and nourished enough to breastfeed. In Mary's case, I guess I should add in not be stoned for a forbidden pregnancy it of wedlock. That's a pregnancy concern that has never worried me. There were no prenatal tests or checkups. There was no "deadline" after which a greedy, lazy, or overbooked care provider would arbitrarily schedule a birth. Cesareans weren't an option when desperately needed, much less purely elective ones for frivolous social reasons. An obstructed labor meant at least one would not survive. In many cases, there was no one but another woman who'd had a baby to provide support. They just wanted to live and for their babies to live.

Have we forgotten that ultimate goal? It sure seems like care providers who casually intervene in otherwise normal, healthy pregnancies have. They are risking lives inducing, augmenting, and performing more than twice the cesareans WHO has recommended since the 80s.

The birth plan choices we have are privileges as many women in the world still struggle to survive and produce offspring who will survive. Abuse and overuse of tests, procedures, and interventions intended for rare problems disgusts me. It should disgust you too that over 20 countries are ahead of us in terms of maternal and infant outcomes.

There is good evidence to support that more interventions in labor do not produce a healthier baby. Why do it, then, if it is a fact that maternal morbidity and mortality increase as those interventions increase. There is a direct correlation. Have we lost sight completely of the thing the human race has been struggling for thousands of years to do--bring more women healthily to and through labor and enable them to hold and nurture their healthy newborns?

We have reached a new low in maternity care when maternal mortality has risen for the first time since blood banks and antibiotics became widespread. Yes, the actual number is small, but maternal mortality has doubled in the last 10-15 years. Doctors don't seem worried about that, but they sure are worried about those numbers that say twice as many babies die in utero past 42 weeks. It's a smaller percent increase than our maternal mortality rate. Let's compare it to the number of non-medically indicated inductions that end in cesarean, the number of women whose fertility is affected by a cesarean, or the number of women who suffer from 3rd and 4the degree perineal lacerations. I don't see shifts in practice there regardless of piles of studies.

Chances are nobody will be telling my birth stories or yours in two thousand years, but I'd settle for moving towards a way of mother making that truly values the lives of both mothers and babies, nurtures the unique dayad that is created, and seeks to lessen number of challenges we must face to get our babies here safely.

Kitchen Sink Granola

In all fairness, I only measure out the oats, nuts, and applesauce.  Everything else gets the family recipe treatment--a handfull of this, a pinch of that, sprinkle, drizzle, glob, etc....  The trick is to be sure to get the wet ingredients evenly onto every bit of the drys and bake watchfully until perfectly golden. Thanks again to a dear friend of my mother's for posting her delicious Hippie Granola recipe without which I wouldn't have a this to share or a container full of homemade granola in my cabinet.

Place into a large mixing bowl and stir well to combine:

• 5 heaping cups rolled oats
• 2 cups raw, unsalted almonds, very finely chopped*
• 2 cups raw, unsalted walnuts, very finely chopped* 
• 1 cup raw, unsalted pumpkin seeds
• 1 cup raw, unsalted sunflower seeds
• 1/4-1/3 wheat germ 

*It takes forever to chop the nuts by hand.  Put into a big ziploc bag 2 cups at a time and smash with the smooth side of a meat mallet.  Works like a dream and gets out some stress if you are like me and fail to paste on a perpetual smile a la (please play along and imagine an accent grave over that "a") June Cleaver whose real-life inspirations likely enjoyed their daily Valium as was the 50s housewife way!

In a smaller bowl or 4 cup measuring cup and stir until all incorporated:

• 3/4-1 cup unsweetened applesauce
• 1/3 cup molasses
• 1/3 cup honey
• 1 generous tablespoon pure vanilla extract
• 2 tablespoons oil (safflower or coconut works well)
• 1/4 cup brown sugar
• 2 heaping teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4-1/2 teaspoon nutmeg 
• 1 teaspoon sea salt

Set racks in upper and lower thirds and preheat oven to 300 degrees.

Spread mixture into two large rimmed baking sheets or deeper baking pans.  You may have to bake a bit longer in the deeper ones.  If you are using dark or nonstick pans, please line with parchment paper to keep the granola from overcooking around the edges and bottom.

Bake 10 minutes, stir well, and rotate pans.  Continue baking in 10 minute intervals, stirring, and rotating pans for about 30 minutes, 40 minutes total give or take.  If you need to stir and rotate more than 3 times, watch it carefully as the edges overcook quickly.

This is perfectly baked and will dry crunchy

 Remove from the oven once it is light golden brown throughout.  It should look very different from the raw oats covered in the darker wet ingredients.  Let it sit to cool.  It gets good and crunchy as it cools.  Only add in dried fruits once completely cooled.

This is the super big Tupperware size

Serves many and keeps for several weeks in airtight containers.

I recommend only 1/4-1/3 cup servings at a time.  It's so nutrient, fiber, and protein filled that you'll be satisfied--no joke here, Frank might eat 1/2 cup after the gym, but that's pushing it.  We love it with milk (vanilla coconut is my favorite) or yogurt (plain Greek for even more protein and less sugar than flavored) then topped with fresh fruit or maybe chocolate chips for a treat.  We do add-ins and toppings by the individual serving since it makes such a huge batch.

First Week of Advent

First Week:

1  Detox Yoga #3 from was challenging.  There is no way I can get into the cool arm balances (well, except for Bakasana/Crow), bind my side angle, or take those optional pushups en route to Adho Mukha Svanasana/Down Dog.  Lots of twisting and hip stretches--tight hips, back, and shoulders needed it.  I stuck with it and stayed calm even with the kids alternating between giggling and howling as they ran around me and the dog and a cat or two parking on my mat staring a few times.  Being still is hard.  I'll work on Savasana--the iPod skipped to some, er, uncensored rap song and broke my focus.  Okay, I dropped an s-bomb.  It happens.  Not very mature or reverent, but I'm being honest here.  I found a chill yoga song, though, and at least laid still for a few minutes to end.  It was good.

2  First Sunday of Advent; Hope candle lit today. Jivamukti Yoga 1.  Shaky, falling out of a couple, and skipping headstand for lack of a free wall (more lack of ab strength to hold myself up sans support).  Classic flow of standing poses to gentle inversions.  The Sanskrit chant that opened and closed this one was really perfect: "Lokah samasta sukhino bhavantu" which translates to something along the lines of, "May all beings everywhere be happy and free and may the thoughts, words and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all."  If that's not pushing myself to be more Christlike, nothing else is.  I don't understand Christians who fear yoga philosophy and see it as a threat.  I am calm, content, and feeling like jello at the moment.

3  Hip Opening Flow #3.  Got up early, drank a cup of coffee and got right to it.  Mornings are tough but quiet.  I'm stiff, "all stove up" as my grandfather used to say, but my mind is quiet.  The vinyasa flows had my arms and chest protesting, but it was pretty gentle.  I had a 4 year old silly yogi watching and talking to me for a few minutes, fixed her breakfast, and came back to finish up.  My balance was pretty rotten in Eagle and Warrior 3.  Stuck a tripod headstand with my toes barely off the ground, but it was air nonetheless.  Got loose enough to give Wheel 3 good goes and feel lifted in it.  I am already noticing more calm throughout my day with less effort.  I feel more sincere and am seeing the coming of Christmas through my children's eyes--after last year's grinchiness (on my part alone), I never dreamed I'd experience that childlike awe as an adult.  Preparing for Christmas was more spend and stress, less spiritual.  The contrast is proof that there is always hope--hope for more joy, newness, an open heart.

4  Advanced Forest Yoga is not all that advanced.  Ended my day on the mat.  Frank was too sore for another Crossfit workout this am or pm, so he did it, too.  Pretty gentle, holding some poses, nice stretch with a little heat and shakiness.  I missed doing it this morning, but Isabelle came to our room in the night.  She wakes up when I get out of the bed no matter what.  I'm in the phase of life where I can either exercise well in the am OR have fixed hair, put on makeup, and wear real clothes.  Those 4 things rarely happen together.

5  Got up early, had a cup of coffee, and did Power Vinyasa Flow 1.  Felt great, but backbends and hip openers are tough in the am.  Stuck both of the Tripod Headstands and Bakasana. Nice way to start a rainy day.

6  Yoga for Strength 1.  If yoga begins when you want out of a pose, it began for me before my practice had even begun today.  It reminded me of runs in days past where the hardest part was getting out the door and pushing though the first mile or so.  I did the whole thing and was able to get deeper into downdog and forward fold than usually possible in the mornings.  Waiting until later makes it harder in my head and easier in my body.

7 Finally quelled the feelings of inadequacy and tried an Ashtanga class, Dharma Flow.  It was good to get into some basic modifications of deep opening poses like full Eka Pada Rajakapotasana/Pigeon and Bhujapidasana/Shoulder Arm Balance--nothing impressive going on in those, but maybe by the end of the month I'll be able to rock them.  I'm already feeling stronger in my arms and core.  Dedicating time to daily practice has also helped to keep my mind from racing throughout the day.  Me slowing down = kids slowing down = Frank not coming into a crazy, overtired, stressed house at the end of the day = improvement.  I wouldn't go as far as saying that I have the yoga blissed-out feeling all day, but I am certainly more content.  I've also gotten up early (even on days when I didn't get to my mat early) and read an Advent devotional, filling another empty spot in me.

7 down, 24 to go.  Namaste 

Advent: Cultivating Calm

Since early this past summer, I've been psyching myself up to do yoga daily for a month, a whole month.  It always starts at the end of one month, and I think to myself, "This is it.  I'm going to do it."  In my mind's eye, I see the it happening: The house is silent and dark.  I wake early and come to my mat to begin the day in sweaty devotion--devotion in the sense of emptying myself of judgement, restlessness in mind and body, cultivating calmness, and making room for something greater than myself.  I envision my hour or so of daily asceticism that is at the same time indulgence.  When else will I get to take this flow once I get myself wound tightly and slip into the modern mantra of "busy is productive" and striving for purpose and organization that looks (and feels) more like a frenzied mess?  I always have more to give when I begin the day with that take for myself.

Here it is December first.  I've yet to stick to my plan.  It fizzles every time.  I guess my intention isn't very set, maybe just not very strong.  As soon as a kid is sick, we're up late, or I'm just tired and lazy when the alarm goes off, I'm off track.  A day skipped ruins the whole thing. 

So, this yoga for a month thing and Advent.  It's a nice fit put together.  Finding a way to refocus the Christmas getting and giving for my kids has been on my mind.  We'll do the Advent wreath, read simple Bible verses with them, and hang an ornament for each week leading up to lighting the Christ candle.  What about me?  I need preparing, too.  What better way to open my heart for the greatest Gift than spending an hour or so getting my cluttered thoughts out of the way, slowing down to listen and ground myself, and doing so with gratitude to God for the gifts in my life and a commitment to bettering myself physically and spiritually.

First Week