Ramblings, Part 1: Of course...

I'm coming back, DrJen, lol.

I'm a little on the edge right now. Poked my toe in the water, but jumped back.

I'm going through.

Thinking. Thinking critically. Trying not to make rash decisions. This is when I should be blogging most, but this is when there's the least amount of time to do so. I also have a hard time writing coherently when my mind's on fire. But then other times it helps to just purge it out onto the page. I don't know which one this will be ultimately, but I can at least manage a list:

• I'm in the process of going through IRB for my thesis, which is a headache, to say the least.

• My school schedule is overwhelming me...the two days of clinical + one or two days of call + two days of class + my little part time job are starting to feel very heavy. I will not be working at the library after the end of this semester. People often think my exhaustion has to do with trying to write a thesis on top of everything else...but actually my thesis is the one thing that is giving me much joy at the moment. It is the only thing that I actually want to do when I sit down to work on it. And with the phenomenon I'm looking at being racial fatigue and the critical framework being that of black feminist thought...I'm sure it's obvious to my loyal readers why this is the most enjoyable part of my education at the moment...I mean, I was introduced to standpoint theory and the cultural contract paradigm over the last two weeks and had to stop and thank the universe for giving me something, anything, to get out of bed for. ;o)

• I am trying to get my stuff together for the NCLEX, which is not only a pain the financial, organizational ass, but also a pain in the brain because I think it's silly that I need to be licensed as a RN to be a midwife in the first place, but that's another blog (and I'm sure someone has already tackled it) and at this point I just 1)find the money and 2)follow the directions...and then at some point I need to 3)find time to study for it.

• I am petitioning for summer funding...for work and also the ACNM conference which, I think, is absolutely ridiculously priced...why would you choose a hotel that has a group rate of $200 per night as the cheapest room option? Especially for a conference that's nearly a week long? And why would your reistration fee be almost $400 for students? But I need to go because that's where I'm planning to interview at least 2 students for my thesis.

• Speaking of funding and writing checks...I filled out my FAFSA and got the shock of a lifetime when my EFC came back nearly 6 grand for the 2008-2009 school year. I gasped, but I didn't cry. I printed it, put it away, and will deal with it later.

• I'm failing a class. Actually, half the class is probably failing the class. PHARM. I study more for the weekly quizzes in this class than I do for midterms and finals in my midwifery courses...and still I'm failing. Stressin me out. And I've lost like 30ish dreads, I was trying to count last night...I might have to chop it. Whatever, been there, done that a few times before.

• Lastly, the more I'm learning, the more I'm hating midwifery. There. I said it. It's not just school...this always happens with me in school because I don't now, nor have I ever, really cared for school. Even when I was a little girl I hated school. I'm good at it most times, and I love learning, especially through reading and writing, but classes...multiple-choice exams...people interaction...memorization...I hate it. But now...it's midwifery. They way I'm learning it...all complications, no trust in birth whatsoever. So much primary care. Hypertension + meds. Diabetes + meds. High cholesterol + meds. Anemias and blood diseases + meds. Genetics, genetics, genetics. Ugh. Seriously, if I had known...I might not have done it, and that's the first time I've said that I think. If I had known that all I'd study were complications, that I wouldn't know the women I was delivering, that there'd be very little continuity of care (start at the purple), I might have just skipped it. Everything is a risk. We're just waiting for something bad to happen. I know more about pre-ecclampsia than I do a 'normal' labor curve. And lastly on this topic...I had interesting conversation with someone about this whole clinical practice vs research careers in nursing and midwifery thing. This someone has done both, and is now conducting research and teaching. I was saying how frustrating it is that people are not 'allowed' to just say, "ya know, I really do want to just be a nurse researcher/scientist." It is taboo to say or do this without 'putting in time' in the field. People say you must work in the field to be able to talk about the field...that nurses, midwives, are always first and foremost clinicians. Well, while I certainly think that clinical practice is the backbone of nursing and midwifery and obviously very helpful, and a clinical population is necessary for clinical research, I do not think there's a certain amount of clinical practice experience necessary to be a good researcher...that is to say that I believe there is also honor in conducting (and building a career in) NON-clinically based nursing and midwifery research...what about our historians? Our stastititians? Our theorists? Instead, there is an unspoken expectation that most of a nurse/midwife's research will be clinically based and then she (or he) will periodically, whenever time permits, research those 'other' things. I am noticing that I happen to be more interested in those "other things." Another professor, whom I respect because she does all three (clinical, research and teaching - quite well, too) reminded me one day when she sat down as I was eating my lunch, that really, you need a clinical practice if you're doing clinical research because that's the easiest way to access subjects. It makes sense, no argument from me there. I think the vast majority of people go into these professions with the plan to practice clinically. So did I, among other things. But I also think there needs to be room for acceptance of those who have a different plan, and that room requires respect for people's knowledge of self...which I'm finding lacking in this place right now. Some of us will go into law, or policy, or administration, or education, or something else entirely. But we are all still midwives...right? Why should students be afraid to say that they don't think they will practice clinically? I have met students who are afraid to say it. And after meeting with that person above, who actually counseled me that if I ever felt disenchanted with the clinical practice of midwifery to NEVER, EVER tell my midwifery faculty that (she was also the person who said to never tell your teachers/preceptors that you never want to work as a bedside RN...she was right about that - there are consequences), I understand why they're scared. That's ridiculous...where's that circle of safety, now? Where's the trust? Where's the room for intellectual stimulation outside of the pathophysiology of labor and birth? Where's the space for critical thinking about not only one's assessment and plan for the management of the patient, but also the assessment and plan for one's career and life goals...for one's self preservation and growth? How is it that a faculty of midwives can not see when student midwives need midwiving? I believe they feel obligated to 'toughen us up' for the profession we are joining and the climate in which that profession finds itself. But there is more to raising a midwife than tough love. I'm fading. And if I'm fading, with my history of perseverance, then I know others are, too.
  

I'm back.

Virtual Postcard

Having such a great time!

Be back with a full report!

LP

Into Open Arms

Reflecting on the day I was born makes me think of my mother.

At 4:32 she risked death (have I beat you over the head enough with the maternal mortality stats for black women?), insanity, and her identity to give me a chance.

I got a card in the mail from my daddy. That is his way, I love it.

He still sends me Valentine cards, too, no matter where or how old I am.

It's such a contrast to the man who doesn't do much of any of it, which is also fine by me. The man is practical which I love.

I have a midterm today.

And a pharm quiz.

I'll be at school from 8ish to 6ish....deep breaths...

Ugh. I just wanna go somewhere and write.

I'm so sick of school.

I'm on auto piolot now.

Usually I make my birthday its own holiday but we happened to have midterms, so that was out.

That's ok, there's always Paris...in 4 days. Yeah. 4. OMG.

I was saying to someone last week that I was ready to have kids not because my clock is ticking, but because I have this odd feeling of my body settling in on itself. Getting comfortable.Bones setting into their final place...fat shifting into it's final place.

"I feel old," I said.

But it wasn't upsetting. It was relief. But still odd.

I was born today, 28 years ago.

On purpose.

To people who wanted me, were waiting on me.

And for a very long time, there was only me.

It has made a difference in my life.

I think of Brittany and I am happy. And sad. And grateful.

I woke up today.

My middle name is Joy.

Today, more than ever, that means something.

"Where is He?" (Purging for Space)

I see the comments...I'm happy to have them...I'll get to them soon...

Right now I'm just purging stuff from my brain so I can have mental space to study for midterms, the first of which is in less than a week...

We had a school event to celebrate a milestone in the program, and I was not really all that interested in going. It was on my usual work night and I had waited to the last minute to ask someone to cover me because I wasn't really sure if I was going anyway. I got the coverage and ended up going, mainly because I wanted to be supportive of U, who was delivering the speech for the evening. I left quickly afterward, no need to stay for schmoozing, wine, and food. Plus, I had already celebrated this milestone last summer, and that was plenty sufficient...good times, good times. I wanted to get home to the man who was celebrating a milestone himself- one full year of full time work at the same job. His first. EVER. He is so not a 9 to 5-er. And I can appreciate that. I'm not either. To get up and go to work every day to a job that you don't care about one way or another...a job that has nothing to do with your passion in life...a job that doesn't give a damn about you or even tries to purposely bring you down...it sucks. hard. So I wanted to acknowledge his committment... sacrifice... that allows me to get the education to do my life's work. As far as I'm concerned, he can't get away from this kind of work fast enough. We're working on a plan to align his passions with work that earns income. But in the meantime, he's chugging along. We're chugging along. So I couldn't get out of there fast enough. But while I was there, I was annoyed by how often people wanted to know where he was and why he wasn't there to "support" me. Couples, both hetero and gay, were all over the place. It was freaky to me...like a dog and pony show, or a contest. Couples, arm in arm, hand in hand, beaming. Scary beaming. Yeah, they were happy, but it was off. Like, look at us...we're a couple, a happy couple. This is what love looks like! There was one woman who asked me where he was and I said "oh he's at home" and she said "why didn't he come?" and I said "because I didn't need him to" and she said, "oh, we'll talk after!" cause we were leaning over someone else having this conversation. Needless to say I didn't have a conversation with anyone "after." She was not at all unpleasant. I was just sick of the question. It was almost like I wasn't supposed to be seen without him, unless I had a good excuse. Like, yeah, no one brings their mate to class or to work with them, but every where else...well, where is (s)he? Ugh. This only mattered this time because it's happened SO many times before...all kinds of events, especially the ones where partners are invited, especially parties, people wanna know why he didn't come with me. When I got home I was telling him about it, and we wanted to know if I wanted him to make an appearance...probably because I was going on and on. No. Of course not. I do periodically check in as to why he doesn't want to go to a certain thing, because I want to know what he's thinking about it...like, are you angry at someone who's going to be there? Do you need time away from me and just aren't admitting that? Are you intimidated? Bored? He's internal, sometimes I check in...no, a LOT of times I check in. Anyway, he said something about my ranting that hit me hard.

"I think you think that because they never see us together and keep asking about it, they think we don't love eachother, and I know that that would really piss you off if they thought that."

Bull's eye. Damn.

(I can't stand you, maaaan. lol)

Now the question is, why do I care?

Processing the Births

I was overwhelmed and dazed after catching the first baby a couple of weeks ago. I felt the magnitude of what was happening, and I couldn’t believe that it was finally my hands that I was looking at, catching a baby. It was amazing to watch someone’s eyes open for the first time, take their first breath. But do you all remember this post?

It didn’t feel like that…I didn’t feel like that, after it was over. Not to say that everyday should evoke some greater sense of purpose and make me feel like I’m changing the world, but I surely expected to feel similar to that day after catching my first baby. I was happy. I was very happy. But it was definitely not the same. The principle, tell the truth, present the options, and listen, were the same, but I didn't feel like "I can do this, all day, every day, I can do this." So far, I can only imagine it for a finite time...a short finite time.

I went to visit the mama a couple hours later…it seemed odd that all in the span of three hours I had met her, caught her baby, and sent her away to postpartum on another floor...I needed to see her again. It is possible to build connection in that time, but I would guess…actually, I am hoping… that it is no where near the connection you’d build if you had continuity of care with a woman. It was wonderful to see her afterwards because she was so excited that she had done it “all by herself” and she couldn’t believe that she “did it without nothing.” Over and over again, she said, “and I did it by myself.” It also helped me to get some glimpse of how she was processing her birth, because there’s a good chance that I won’t see her again in a clinical setting, although I might see her working at some time. How do midwives who do intrapartum call shifts without providing the prenatal care or post partum care deal with this lack of, or very short, connection? With having no clue what she and the baby are going home to…if there’s food in the house…if there’s heat? I guess what I’m saying is birth is not enough for me…it is not the epitome of this education, although at times it seems like it is supposed to be. There’s a lot of birth counting going on in my program…I hate that. Last week our teacher went around the classroom and asked each person to tell her how many babies she had caught, along with other opportunities such as admission procedures, c-section assists, rounds, etc. I asked if we would have to do this in this way every week? I think it’s building some kind of competition that I don’t want to participate in…everyone is obsessed with the numbers. I was glad when she said that that would be the only time we would do it. People are excited, I get it, I’m excited, too! But I hate that “how many births do you have now? How bout now? Now? I don’t know what the hell is up. I’m just not processing the experience in the same way maybe, and that’s fine, I don’t have to. But how am I processing it? I think I’m going to need to be the kind of midwife who knows the mama of the baby I’m catching.

The second baby I caught was, again, wonderful, but even less connection than the first. We shared the same first name. I literally met her once, then caught her baby in a very hastened manner because even though she was a primip, she went from 3cm to fully dilated and pushing very quickly (in fact, had not had a vaginal exam in that time – which is rare in the hospital) and did not feel an ounce of pain (her words) until late in transition when she said she had to poop and started vomiting….which is usually the sign for “baby’s coming” but not always, but in her case she was pretty close to crowning. We didn’t even have the birth cart yet. We managed to get it, get gowned and gloved, she pushed a few times and baby was here. We somersaulted the baby, which was a great learning experience because it’s not very common. Again, an hour later she was gone.

There is a young girl that I have as a prenatal patient who I do whatever I have to see myself. The first visit she barely spoke to me. Two visits later we were cool…my code switching in full effect, and all PC professionalism dropped. Her, flowing with the truth. I am worried about her. For three weeks she’s been contributing to her “cab fund” as we discussed since she has no car, and had no idea how she would get to the hospital if she couldn’t reach her aunt. But what about when she gets to the hospital? Her planned labor support is a little shaky. I’m imagining her there, alone, trying to have a baby. Yes, there are nurses, but nurses are not doulas, and they have more than one patient…but we are lucky with the nurses we have because they are supportive of midwives and decreased interventions (ie: they don’t mind doing intermittent auscultation even though it’s more work for them). But my point is, I can’t tell her that I will be there for her, and that sucks. Chances are I will catch the baby of another woman I've never met, while someone she's never met will do the same for her. It's frustrating.

The other reason I’m writing all this is because, unlike my classmates, I am hardly ever excited about call…I could take it or leave it. Half of my class signed up to take extra call over spring break in a couple weeks…I thought, you must be kidding? They seem so enchanted…so in love with this experience…they can’t get enough. Maybe I’m jealous. My big sib said, “It’s so much different, so much better when you know who you’re getting up in the middle of the night for.” My last shift was from 7pm to 7am. All I wanted to do was go home and go to bed.

I’ve caught two babies. Safely. I understand how huge that is. I am thankful. I am thankful to have been trusted by those two women. I get that. As I think about bringing my own into the world, I imagine that it will take me a very long time to find someone who I can trust to catch my babies, so, even though they had very little choice in the matter, I appreciate being allowed to be present.

I guess it will just take me a while to process...

Sigh

I'm tired.

And frustrated.

And I miss people who know me.

I talked to my friend/mentor the other day and, as always, I hung up thinking, yeah, we got it all wrong. We're supposed to spend the majority of our time speaking to people who ignite us. Make us think. Talking about stuff that matters to each of us specifically. Not plodding through 12 hours of task after task. The man's brother was here for the weekend. It reminded me of all that the man has sacrificed (and me, too) with this move across the country, far away from everyone who really knows us. His affect was so much lighter, he smiled so much more. He laughed more. I missed a lot of it cause I was on call Saturday night (caught my second baby, still dazed, waiting for that "I wanna do this for the rest of my life" feeling) They had a blast.

I'm meeting with U in the morning. I'm not used to these kinds of relationships. I don't usually have enough patience to build them. In previous relationships, I've always found myself in the mental/emotional giving role, without receiving the same in return. But when I realized that about myself, I learned how to walk away pretty easily from people who I wasn't willing to offer that to....that means most people I've encountered I've kept distance from. So here I am trying to build relationships with a few women at the same time, and I find it tiring.

Lots of folks read this blog. I find it so interesting that people will blogside me about the random stuff, but they will not be walking up to me talking about this. I know because I've seen a few folks, and...nothing... Except N, who said something the first time she saw me. I appreciated that. Otherwise, we're all just going to walk around in silence. I don't know that I have the energy to facilitate. hmm nor am I interested. nor do I know if it's necessary. We have enough on our plates, I guess. No, I don't believe that. I think it's just the way we/people are...we back up and find the common ground and avoid the stuff that we know is sticky. yeah.

whatever.

I have a long week ahead.

A very long week.

A full schedule.

I don't know where I'm going to get the energy. I am going to sleep well tonight...it's pouring rain. A full 7 hours of sleep. Then I'm going to eat something in the morning before going to school...maybe that will help.

a very long week...

Mirrors and Inconsistencies: A Full Response

I've been thinking about how I was going to write this next post. In keeping with walking squarely into my fears, here I go...

The best way for me to address some of the conversation between me and U is to provide an example of how what U is saying and doing mirror what I've said and done already in my life. In doing this, I recenter the blog on me and my experiences and what I need, and less on her and her experiences, which she may not want to be as public as they currently are considering my blog isn't exactly anonymous and those comments aren't going anywhere. And she has already expressed not wanting to really comment anymore, although she's willing. But I'm choosing this method because I think it's vitally important that people have more background that helps them see where I'm coming from, why I'm saying what I'm saying, and how come I'm not slowly backing away from U...despite the fact that this is what I would usually do.

Not too long ago, less than a year ago...last spring break...I sat across a table at a coffee shop with my mentor. She said something to the effect of: "I'm going to tell you something, I need you to get on board...be supportive" H, did you also say “everyone else thinks I’m crazy or is disappointed?” I don’t remember…anyway we talked about the craziness...then she said "I'm not getting a PhD.” I made a face, I’m sure. I was crushed. Before this time, I think, she had mentioned something about it, but at that time she was wavering on it and I had said “you have to, I can’t pass you up…I need you to have done it so I can see how to do it myself.” So I was crushed. She was someone who I knew was sane, whole, not faked out by the smoke and mirrors of it all…if she could come through it, with her sanity, I knew I would be able to, because she would be on the sidewalk pointing at the UFO sized craters in the street. So I lost that. And it sucked. Hard. I also remember saying something about not being able to imagine her without a PhD because it seemed so obvious…expected…that she would get it. We talked about reclusivity…about swamp living…I said I thought she was moving toward it…Gayl Jones came up somewhere in there, too, I think. Today I’m thinking about how you can be a mental recluse…physically you can stay here with us, but you can be so turned inward that people can’t get to you…that sounds both like paradise and like the end…like schizophrenia…

When I left at the end of that trip I was a little sad about it, but also in denial about it, worried about what that meant for me and my journey, but committed to being the friend I am…supportive, trying to get on board as quickly as possible, which meant that I was spending a considerable amount of time trying to understand her decision and trust that she knew what was best for her life and mind better than me or anyone else. And I promised to still come visit her, to call her, if she were living in swamp land! Soon after that I was sitting in a class here, at ivy1, and it hit me like a train. I had raised my hand and said something about something (I don’t remember) and the woman completely ignored what the hell I said and continued to talk about what *she* thought about me and “my” people….you know they. And I said, no! she’s not getting a PhD, of course she’s not. Why would she? To join the ranks of ‘these’ people? So they can tell her about her life and about the way she should write about it? So they can tell her what’s important and what’s not? She mostly talked about not needing the degree to do what she wanted to do, but for me, this moment, this insistence, that the person standing in front of me thought she know more about me and my life than I did simply because she had those three little letters after her name…letters she got by learning how to think, what to think, what to say, how to say it, and how to write about it, was a moment that made it-why she would not be getting it-CLICK! We get those letters, some of us, so that we can ‘prove’ that we know our stuff, just as well as ‘they’ do. But really, all it proves is that we survived the experience of attempted/successful assimilation. I have always been sure about not wanting to be like other academics I saw around me…but I wasn’t always clear about the whole “the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house” thing. I don’t know if it’s true, if it’s possible, but I was hoping to see an example through my friend. The other reason I’m adding all this background to this conversation is because I think what has happened is that U (and I don’t mean to be talking about you like you aren’t here, U, but I’m not sure if you’re going to respond and have conversation here, or wait to do so in person) thought that this whole “PhD, to do or not to do” (based on how) came about due to me being in conversation with darkdaughta about it recently, and didn’t want to see me change my ideas about a PhD based on some (perhaps nebulous, as far she was concerned) conversation with a ‘stranger’ over the internet. So, I’m pointing out that this topic, this conversation, was initiated a year ago in real time…this is just the first time U has seen me waver on it. Which leads me to a discussion about inconsistency:

One of the inconsistencies that I think might be salient to those who know me in real time, and now blog time, is that of confidence. In real time at school I come across, I present/pose myself, as very confident about my life and plans. And for the most part, I am, but there are still a lot of logistics that need to be worked out, including motives, and strategies for those plans. This is strategic. I do this because people have a habit of bringing you their stuff, trying to sell you what they think and know…leading to an inadvertent request to conform to whatever they’ve learned we should want or do…I think this is happening on my end at darkdaughta’s right now, as far as I can understand what she’s saying to me now and has said before…but anyway, so I’m very clear with people at school about my general plans (mainly, doctoral aspirations) because I don’t want suggestions about how to build a private, glassy, practice on the west end of town making X salary which will allow me to wear this kind of suit everyday, etc. Yeah, I want some money. I’m tired of not having enough. And like power suits. But I also like comfortable jeans, and white t-shirts, tennis shoes, and wearing my hair in two pigtails, and big jewelry, and saying things that are unprofessional while at work. I’m not saying it’s intentional, you wanting to change me for the “better,” I’m saying it’s subversive, meaning you don’t even realize what you’re saying that makes me feel that way. I’m saying that people come with it based on how they’ve lived. I’m saying going to a Baptist church for 18 years of my life blankets/forms/muddies/influences what I can or can’t bring to a conversation about heterosexuality and monogamy. I’m saying that where you come from does the same for what you bring to me. That’s the answer to why I am always going to place you in the context of class…I’m going to keep bringing it around to that because that’s one thing about you that makes you respond to what you respond to in the way that you respond to it. There aren’t that many more things that influence your speak the way that does…probably because I don’t know you well enough to see what other gazes you have that frame you that aren’t a direct result of class. Please hear me on this: I’m not saying that you are only your class or that that’s all I see of you…what I AM saying is that so much of the parts of you I get to see are very clearly parts that are most heavily influenced by class. That might be because of where we met and how we came to know each other. And in fact, I think we said that we probably would have never came to know each other out in the real world because we didn’t run in the same kinds of circles…I would have probably been one the “black girls who never liked [you]” I thought about that when you talked about them. Me, judgmental (but also rightly concerned about my own safety) me, woulda been right there seeing you with all them white girls, thinking, saying “hells no! there’s no way…I don’t get down like that.” We don’t have the same experiences with white people, that is clear. The way you take them into your life, break bread with them, play softball with them, hang out and party with them – trusting them to back you up if your safety while out becomes compromised, I don’t have that. I don’t know shit about that. In fact, it scares me for you, because I can only come with my own experiences and say…U…when the going gets rough, they’re going to run…and they might not even take the time to turn and tell you do the same…that madness with M at the bar comes to mind…I’d love to go there, but I don’t think it’s cool to tell it if you don’t want it told out here in blog land, but I will say this, she, passing for white, did not have your back…for the second time. Yes I’ve said it to her face, no this is not passive aggressive, and yes I did ask her about why she identifies as white instead of middle eastern, ie, why she’s passing (just in case that comes up at some point) I’m using this as an example for why *some* black girls, me included, do not trust the way you do…it’s directly related to the experiences we’ve had…we bring that with us. It’s great that you’ve had so many positive experiences with women your own age who happened to be white…but can you see how maybe class has something to do with that? Meaning where you lived was determined by how much money you had, the cars you and your family drove provide other people with a measure of what class you might belong to, and therefore affects who approaches you for alliance…and who doesn’t, for a million reasons. I’m sure you didn’t (or didn’t want to) pick friends based on that, or didn’t want people to approach you for friendship based on that, and I’m not saying that all your friends come from the same class as you…what I’m saying is that I TALK ABOUT IT BECAUSE IT MATTERS. And this is not new, those with whatever kind of privilege not wanting to talk about it, and wondering why it matters so much to those who don’t have it. The richest of people (in monetary terms) hardly ever want to talk to those without it about money, the poor always do. We always talk about white privilege because we don’t have it, how often do we talk about the privilege that comes with being born in this country compared to those who are here “illegally?” That’s the nature of privilege, we don’t have to talk about it.

My point is that the sureness of my step at school is me saying “back off, back away from me, I’m not looking for you to tell me who I need to be because I’m already thinking about that” and that’s not something I’m doing to you or anybody else, that’s something that I’m doing for me. It’s one coping mechanism that reminds me that almost everything I need is inside of me, that I have the power to decide my destiny, not anyone else. That doesn’t mean that I think you’re trying to decide it for me (I see your ball game analogy) it means that I’m being proactive about making sure that what I want and decide is forefront because when you or anyone else steps to me with that bag of stuff they’re carrying, I need to be able to call confidence about my decisions to the forefront of my brain immediately. And you keep pointing out that you never said that I needed to change…that you don’t ask that of me…but I’m saying to you that you ask for it inadvertently, subliminally, unconsciously. Don’t you ever feel like I’m asking you to be someone you’re not, or think about something differently without actually saying it? I do that to you. And I’m up at night thinking about it. Saying, “I wonder if that made her feel like I think she should wait until she finds some perfect black man to marry?” I’m thinking about it because I know that I can imply, even when I don’t say it, that that’s what I think you should do. Isn’t that arrogant of me…I don’t want to do that to you, who am I to push that on you? We all silently ask of stuff from people, simply by showing up with our stuff and talking.

The never ending spit comment…I hear what you’re saying, you’re not saying it’s deserved, you’re saying it’s a real possibility that one has to weigh when deciding to speak. But what I’m saying is the way you said it, what/how you wrote, came across like it was something people who “mess with the wrong person” deserve. And I’ve been thinking a lot about choice when you’re back’s against the wall…and about whether or not there’s always a choice…even when you’re back’s against the wall.

You’re right, that excerpt is very telling. Why paste something from a previous post instead of typing up something fresh? Because typing up something fresh would have been my description of you without context. That link provides context about what some of our interactions look like. I picked that particular excerpt about you because it is directly related to why and how we are conversing right now. How I felt about you that night is very real, and it is definitely a salient part of how we interact, what we talk about vs what we don’t talk about, and why. I understand how it could be hard to know me in real time and in blog time. I wonder if the other folks who read me and see me at school feel that way… I think you can imagine & appreciate how hard it is to blog about an experience when people who you would normally talk a lot about are also reading and then seeing you the next morning. It ain’t easy…you’re giving up on your blog so fast…is this another reason why?

A Mini Response

"There are the subtle differences between what I read and what I see, and even then I know I'm not getting the full picture."

Yep, there are, and that is why I'm tense...that's compartmentalizing...that's you getting to see me mostly masked because of the environment we're in...I am more of me, here, on this blog, than I am at school, and even so, I sensor myself on this blog... When we're talking at school, despite the fact that I am probably the least censored of those around me, I am still censored...I think it's hard for people to wrap their minds around an even more 'direct' me, a me who curses more than I already do...a me who takes up more space than they already see me taking...a me who is angrier, and softer than they get to see, a me who says even more than she already does about who and what she sees, without apology ...omg she must be ... be... an utterly impossible person.

The person who gets the most unmasked of me is the man, when in our home...and that's taking full account of the fact that sometimes I'm masked I don't even realize it!

I have a LOT to say, but right now I'm off to a meeting, then clinical...but I wanted to say something before tonight.

I think I'll be responding both here and in person, because I think that's step one of integrating the compartments for me...and I don't mind one bit if you continue to comment because whatever discrepancies you see are not off limits, they're not things I'm trying to hide...

And this conversation is not suprising to me, I knew it would come...that's one reason why there was SO MUCH ANXIETY that came with losing anonymity!

Me and U

U has left some comments on the previous post...I'm going to respond here...first, here's a glimpse of my description of U, who I have spoken of here on this blog before:

I think sometimes defensiveness is a protective mechanism elicited to keep from having to feel all that stuff that you have only just been confronted with in this, your (first?) attempt at friendship with someone who shares the same skin as you but not the same upper-middle class/beautiful text-book diversity of color west coast neighborhood/very little KKK-esque racism upbringing...and does not feel the need to ignore that to make you feel better. I hope you continue to talk about what it is you liked and didn't like about the life you've lived. I also hope our conversations become messier, less safe, less defensive...more real...as time goes on. But even if it doesn't, there is love, because even without naked, vulnerable conversations, we are here, black women, learning midwifery together…

Hey U!

After reading the comments I was tense. I compartmentalize a lot. I saw blog world and school world colliding, and it didn’t feel good. But that’s neither here nor there in this moment, because I want to respond:

There is no one “why” that I’m doing this (planning to pursue a PhD). There are many reasons why I might be doing it, but those reasons are still being processed. One might think they know why they’re doing something, but as time goes on they may gain clarity enough to say “oh, maybe I’m doing this because I want the status that comes with it…and not just because I want to help inner city pregnant teens…” and one comes to that realization by seeing, learning, that it is entirely possible to do what she says she wants to do without a PhD. Why am I talking as though I’m not talking about myself? Crazy. I have a lot of reasons for coming to this institution, and a lot of reasons for planning to pursue a PhD afterwards. The why is not solid, even though you think it is. For everything I’ve told you I want to do with this education after graduation, there are ten things that I haven’t shared. But not even that matters, all that matters is that I…I…say that I am unclear about exactly why I’m getting a PhD. That’s only for me to say. You’re right I’m working on how to survive this current experience. But that’s not to say that figuring this out is going to provide me with a road map for surviving a doctoral program. Sure, they’re similar, but definitely not the same. If this program is soup, the doctoral program is gumbo…you eat them differently…you can swallow soup without chewing if necessary…you could never do that with gumbo…

The last half of that comment…my, my, my. We already know that we differ on a lot of stuff. I’m not interested in going along just to get along and I work hard to wear the mask less often (hence the ease and smoothness of how my “no’s” are coming out, even to the dean ;o)…I’m not interested in learning new ways to move in silence…and the very real threat of someone spitting in my food for agitating or questioning them isn’t going to automatically make me shut up…for every restaurant and job, there is another. You don’t have to sit there and be nice, U, you can get up and walk out. I’ve been thinking a lot about that whole idea of not being “fake” as long as you’re telling yourself the truth…I remember we talked about this in terms of playing the grad school game…about telling yourself the truth no matter what lies you’re telling someone else…but let me be clear about something…there is a price to be paid for wearing the mask…for smiling when you don’t mean it, for saying things that go against your soul, for sitting silent…even when you fear someone pissing in your ice tea…there is a cost…and I think you’re already paying it. Your rituals surrounding being presentable and your concern about other people’s perception of you are an example of how your “being a chameleon” has not left your identity untouched. One way I’m paying for it is through the constant reprogramming required to separate the lie I tell them on occasion from the truths I’m trying to tell myself and the energy that takes away from other things more worthwhile and a million other ways.

It’s weird to hear you talk about allowing this experience to change me. It makes me cringe. Not because I think I am supposed to come through this experience as the exact same person I came in as, but because I’m imagining what it means to you that I grow in this experience. I’m imagining what values you think I came in with that it would be better for me to grow out of. I just explained to the man what I’m trying to say…it was so direct and so clear but I think my way of speaking straight, no matter how uncomfortable for others in person, is probably worse in writing…and I’m being conscious because I know that in the comments you were trying to take up for me :o) But I want to say, I am absolutely trying to keep the most salient aspects of who I am which is inseparable from where I come from as I go through here and beyond. I think that might be uncomfortable for you? Aren’t people like me, from where I’m from, supposed to want to “better” themselves through school…and wouldn’t it be sad if I didn’t take this opportunity to come out the other end changed? (sarcasm)

To stop being Loving Pecola from Maple Street is not growth to me. I’m not trying to come through this experience a washed up, blanched out, supremely educated, mannerized, nodding, replica of everyone else. Learning how to smile and nod and keep my kool-aid free of spit is not the goal. Maybe you’re thinking “that’s not what I meant!” But that’s what I see you inadvertently asking… I’m not interested in being a chameleon…blending into the background wherever I am…I already did that, in my teens. That’s my idea of losing yourself. Losing yourself to the background…where you’re supposed to be. I’d love to say that to blend into everyone else’s background is not your destiny, but I’ll let you decide that for yourself. I know it is not mine. So, you see, I’ve already lost myself love, now I’m finding myself.

Ramblings

Our passports arrived in 6 days, including mail time. I was stunned. The man has his first passport now! I'm on my third.

I filed our taxes.

I made pot roast for dinner and have not gotten a chance to taste it. It's 9pm here.

A Conversation About Academia and Ways of Knowing

Ok. So. A couple days ago I had a post called "Facing the Possibility of Impeded Progress" in which I indirectly identified myself as an "academic" by way of saying "so am I...there's no separating myself from them."

Darkdaughta commented the following on that post:

I read this a few days ago but I didn't comment immediately.

It's good that you've got the support you've been after to do the work you want to do.

Simultaneously...
My mind is fairly exploding with all the wimmin I've encountered and heard about and had conversations with Ophelia about who were/are Black academics who pushed up against the structure of things and did not get the support they deserved.

These are older wimmin, seasoned, clear, accomplished, highly intelligent, extremely adept at navigating the halls of the ivory tower who did not come seeking validation, just clear space to continue with their work.

These were also wimmin who questioned and adgitated.

I realized the last time I really spoke about the academy in one of my comments here on this blog was when Navelgazer came and wrote in a very oblique way that I was being negative. :)

Loving Pecola...
I support your work. How could I not support a Black midwife. Elemental, basic, crucial, pivotal, strategic...

I don't support the academy or the sorts of power, hoarding, resistance gentrifying games academics are taught, encouraged, payed to play.

You know what I think about the biggies deciding to support your studies...
You are understood as strategic, as necessary, as mouthy yet intelligent, probably respectful enough of the power structure that those who support you understand that with a little support you will find your place among them with ease. Perhaps if they give validation, support and safe passage, eventually you will decided to stop questioning the structure and the way of things too stringently...perhaps you will decide to reinvest and support the structure that decided to support you.

Otherwise they wouldn't be supporting you to explore and to pose questions...within a particular framework...questions they haven't wanted to have asked or answered in the very same classes you are taking where you rail against the absence of so much you intuitively understand should be there, should be offered.

You are useful to them. You will be more useful as time goes on if they can ensure that you identify with them and through them with the structure they support.

sigh...
I was thinking about you clearly locating yourself among them as "an academic". I wondered about all what lay behind and beyond those words, that identification.

Instead of taking up more space here, I decided to write something over at my place. Hope you'll come visit and read when you can.

darkdaughta

So, of course, I went over to read what she wrote, and here it is pasted below:

Loving Pecola, I've got a question...

Loving Pecola, I've been thinking about the post you wrote where you described yourself as "an academic". I felt a little sad...but also curious.

I felt sad because the existence of the university complex as a corporate, oppressive, power and hierarchical structure designed to crush individuality, dissidence and creativitymakes it difficult to understand myself as allied with people who identify as academics, meaning a large part of how they understand themselves as human beings in the world, as useful in the world, as necessary in the world flows directly from their location in that diseased corporate entity known as the university.

In blogland, I've actually attempted to avoid the blogs of people whose blogland descriptors or even the names of their blogs resonate with an over-identification with the university complex.

So when you wrote about being "an academic" I wondered how you were planning on disturbing your relationship to this super structure? I wondered how you would concede, where and why? I wondered what this would mean for possible alliances with human beings like me, educated, intelligent, inquisitive...
People invested in the free distribution of knowledge as a way to flatten hiearchies rather than maintain them...which is what the university complex teaches academics to do (and to erase with bodies of knowledge they define as radical and defiant).

How do you understand alliance with someone who understands the university complex as enemy?

I realize, I've encountered many bloggers located inside the academy either as students or as those who teach...
I've encountered many people who identify with the academy who have come here...
I realize that as I've welcomed them, I've simultaneously felt a pang of impending separation...the parting of ways...
I realize that I've never asked them who they understood themselves to be, what they understood a resistance politic could look like inside the belly of the beest...
Mostly, I've just given them space...
Watched them come, stay or go...

I think your post was the last heartbreaking straw for me.

I had to ask...
Had to ask to give voice to my trepidation...
Had to ask if I was going to hear rather than invent or project your answer...

This is what came to me today, from another "academic"...
I really don't trust academics even when they attempt to deconstruct their home turfs.

The only ones I've ever really trusted have been those people who haven't been allowed or able to find safe harbour there, who haven't been welcomed, who haven't been supported, who couldn't stay without speaking openly, regularly and fully...and then of course being made to feel intensely uncomfortable, barred from studying or teaching for the threat they posed.

Nonetheless...

Here is one speaking from inside the corporation...a corporate entity masquerading as a purveyor of knowledge.

Here is an academic with a vested interest in the maintenance of the super structure which defines the pinnacle of the educational experience all over the planet.

I do, nonetheless, like what she wrote and the sorts of questions she asked.

I guess in a way, I wonder too, if your focus on studying works located as necessary inside academia, will allow you to more easily read this woman's words, delivered in certain tones, using particular words, bracketed by acceptable biography, suitable credentials, author credit and correct endnotes...is that what they call them?

The pangs remain. I write and reach through them because that's what I know how to do best.

I found this while I was out desperately seeking...as I do everyday...(read this article she found, here)

It All Leads Up To This...

Yesterday morning I was on my way to my second call shift of the semester. The man got up to take me at 6:45am. I got in the car and put my head back to take a two minute nap. I was so, so tired because I had stayed up most of the night trying to prepare for clinical (making sure I had what I thought I needed, reading up, filling out my brain book, and making some cheat sheet flashcards) I wish I had've remembered to look in the guide they gave us which told us what to bring because I stilll didn't have everything. As we pulled off from the house, Brittany's tribute song came on the radio. It's been 20 days.

I was given report by the student midwife who had worked the 7pm-7am shift, and then went to meet the laboring woman. When I walked into the room I recognized her, and I was so grateful because I really hate how we work with women in labor and birth without ever having met them, but this woman had worked a shift with me on my pediatric rotation. When I got to the room she was 7cms and working hard. The father of the baby and her sister were there, but the sister was youngish (16?) and very pregnant and just there to "see how it is." But her guy, he was present and supportive.

S.A. is 27, and has 2 baby girls at home. She had epidurals and lacerations & tears requiring stitches with her first two babies. She had went from 3cm to 7cms dilated in less than two hours, and this was 30minutes later and she was grunting. So, when she asked about an epidural we explained the possibility of it not taking affect quick enough for how fast she was moving "You're about to have the baby," we were saying.

She looked at me and said "I've never done it this way - never without an epidural."

Me: "I know, but you can."

Her: How do you know?

Me: Because I believe you're strong.

Her: But I...I...I

Me: You got this. We're here. We're all here for you.

Her: No, you don't understand, I can't do this! (transition kicked in with...trembling...crying...hot flashes)

Me: You're doing it! You're at the end, this is it, you're so amazing!

This is about where my friend who was 2nd call came in to help with labor support, which was awesome because she was needing all the encouragement she could get, plus a little shocked that she was going to have the baby without pain meds! And I was needing to refocus down below since I really had very little clue what I was doing LMAO. When you're learning it's hard to do both the eye to eye personal attention and the physical work.

Then her body began involuntary pushing and she grunted "it's coming." When women who have had children already say this, it's usually true! And their babies can come out pretty fast. So that was my cue to gown up (gown, gloves, mask). She had an anterior lip of the cervix left, so we got her to lay on her side with her leg up (held by the nurse) and she ended up loving that position and wanting to stay that way for the remainder of the time. The only concern I had was her hemorrhoids...the worst case I had ever, ever seen before. Even my preceptor was a little worried at the size of them. She tried to apply counterpressure while she pushed, but she said that didn't help at all, so my preceptor abandoned the attempt and we just kept an eye on them.

Then the screaming began.

Crowning.

A forehead, a nose, fat cheeks, lips, and a chin - very slowly as to prevent tearing. The anterior shoulder, posterior shoulder, and the rest of baby's body.

A cord wrapped once around the neck and then once around a foot. Baby straight to mama's belly, UNpulsating cord cut by the daddy.

Yesterday, on February 9, 2008, I caught my first baby.

I welcomed a person, a girlchild, into the world with my own two hands. I saw a person open their eyes for the first time on earth....take their first breath.

And one more thing...four little words: over an intact perineum.

I'm still a little dazed.

4 Weeks to Paris

The countdown helps me keep going.

Midwifery Prenatal Clinic Rotation

I started clinical last week. I have two half days of antepartum (prenatal) clinical, and usually just one intrapartum call shift (labor and birth). For the sake of continuity and detail (and keeping with the purpose of this blog) here's what my morning of clinical was like today:

6:30/7am-Up and out the house to get to the medical campus. My clinical site is the free-ish clinic associated with the university hospital. WIC and social work are on site, which is great, especially for this population. I am supposed to arrive at 8:30, the first patient isn't until 9...but I have to look up all the patients first (ie: review their charts which, depending on how long they've been coming to the clinic, can be miles and miles long) Usually, previously, we had been able to do this step the night before at school in the computer lab, but the system is down...so I had to go to clinic early to get the info. Not fun. Know what else sucks? Half the patients will not show up...so I will end up doing half of it for nothing! *sigh* Sometimes I wing it, without looking up the patient first, but rarely, because I don't like walking into the room cold. It's bad enough that the woman already sees so many providers for her care, the least I can do is know *something* about her before I, yet another person, comes trembling in.

8:55am: My preceptor comes in to the charting room, and I give her this spiel:

"X is a 27yo G4P3003 LMP(last menstrual period) 8/1/2007 EDD(expected due date) 5/9/2008 by LMP EGA 26+5 here for her initial OB appointment. My plan today is to do a full history and physical exam, including pelvic with pap, G&C (gonorrhea and chlamydia), and pelvimetry, also FHT (fetal heart tones...ie listen to the baby's heartbeat) and Leopold's. She needs an HIV consent form, her blood drawn, a urine sample, a prescription for vitamins, and a 1hr GTT. Counseling will include nutrition, safety, and referral to WIC if appropriate."
-------------> Yes I practice this spiel...and they drill it into our heads at school.

Preceptor: What's going to be one of the most important things you do physically today since she hasn't had an ultrasound?

Me: Make sure the EGA I get by physical exam matches up with her EDD based on LMP?

Her: Yep. You got it. Are you really going to go through pelvimetry?

Me: Uhhhhnnnn no???

Her: Why not?

Me: Mmmm cause she's already given birth to 3 babies?

Her: Yeah, and were they vaginal deliveries and what size were the babies?

Me: (consulting my cheat sheet from reviewing her chart-----> and this is why you review the charts first!) 7lbs9oz, 8lbs3oz, and 8lbs1oz, all vaginal.

Her: Uh huh, meaning her pelvis is probably plenty adequate and pelvimetery can be uncomfortable! Come get me if you need me.

Then I go into the room and call the interpreter because the woman only speaks Spanish and we have an appointment with an interpreter on speaker phone. I do the exam, and, per usual, get stuck with leopold's, but everything else, including her fundus being at about the umbilicus (belly button) which is about right for her dates. So then I have to get the preceptor to help me with leopold's, and we're done.

Right now, leopold's is one of the hardest skills for me. I never, ever push in hard enough with my hands! Especially for Pawlick's grip...I hate that one...

I had 4 patients this morning. They all went about like the one above, but there's always something I end up needing help with of course. Today it was the following:

1. Couldn't find FHT for one woman: Normally, you find the fetal back and put the dop tone there, but if you have no idea where the back is (cuz your leopold's maneuvers aren't very food yet ;o) then I suggest you start with the LLQ on the woman, then start moving medially and superiorly. Also, you have to push a little harder than you think...it's doesn't work with light surface touch! Lastly, don't forget to change the angle of the wand (ie: the position you're holding it in) sometimes it won't pick up in a direct vertical angle, but if you lessen the angle a little bit you'll find it.

2. Stumbled all over the GBS explanation. Yes we learned this already in class, and yes I knew what it was...but I was trying to figure out how to explain in plain terms, and got tongue twisted. But I suggest you write out a little 3 sentence explanation of what it is and why we're testing for it, and MEMORIZE it so it's on the tip of your tongue always! I guess I could say the same for the Rh conversation...

All of the women today were past 20weeks, so I didn't have to do the bimanual sizing of the uterus, but I usually have a hard time with that, too. I couldn't tell you anterior from posterior if I tried...I did assess retroflex the other day though...

After that I go and do my own charting if I didn't complete it in the room, which I often don't because I prefer to actually be looking at the woman as we're talking instead of reading the screen and clicking yes or no as she answers...but I know that this is the luxury of being a new student with 4 patients instead of 15 for the day and that this might go out the window when my load increases...but I'll enjoy it for now!

EDIT to ADD: MISPRINT! Fundus at umbilicus = 20weeks...if her fundus was at her belly button at 27weeks she would NOT be "size equal to dates" I probably have two patients confused!

Facing the Possibility of Impeded Progress

Both my friend, K, and darkdaughta alluded to whether or not the institution would be receptive, or down right inhibitive, of my project because of the possibility of some ugly truth being brought to light about this business of educating black midwives...in other words, will their being angry (if that's what happens) stop me from progressing safely through the program?

Great question, especially from folks who care about my sanity.

The answer:

I have a one woman army right now. A black(?) dreadheaded PhD holding midwife who wrote her dissertation using phenomenological qualitative methods with a vulnerable population. There was a very long conversation, a lot of soul searching in her office...a lot of

"why I'm here, right now, while you're here....there is a reason, I think we've found it, or one of many...I am more than cable of walking you through and being extremely supportive of this process. I've done this, I know how to do it, and I will get you through it."

After that *** stopped by because she said she had to see what was so funny cause we were "so loud" and my army, she said,

"well since you stopped by I think it's the perfect time to let you know what we're going to do."

She was so sure, so confident. Take no prisoners. She explained it, I just sat there.

The point is, I think it will be ok. You can never know these things until you're in the middle of them. But what I do know is that I can not settle for anything less than a thesis...I tried, I couldn't do it. My personal standards did not allow it. What I also know is I am done...absolutely f.i.n.i.s.h.e.d. with researching things that other people find worthy but mean very little to me. $100,000 buys me the right to write about whatever I choose. This is easier to say because I have a supportive advisor, and a conscious black feminist dean who has the power to make sure I am not denied my degree/progress based on beaurocratic BS or privileged ego tripping. They're all crazy. Academics. But so am I. There's no seperating myself from them. But I think that if it should go down elsewhere in the cog...they will very quickly realize that it would be...easier...safer...to leave me the hell alone, than it is to have me still enrolled a year later.

(Guffawing, I am. LOL)

But in all seriousness, I asked about this. She (my advisor) was confident in her ability to lead the way through the institution and this process, and I, as a result, feel more at ease...or at least supported. And, it helps that the only person who has to sign off on my thesis as a completed work - meeting all requirements for graduation- is my advisor...yeah, that makes a big difference.

There's no turning back.