I like that word. Makes me feel like I’m doing something important. Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Recently I’ve felt as though I’m doing precious little about the birthing world I live in. I’m writing this book about VBAC’s. Great. We will all feel nice and warm and fuzzy and mom’s who were onthe edge of jumping towards one will dive in head first…
into an empty pool.
I’m just royally ticked off. What can I do? I’ve written this book, this little pasty paperback that will likely do some good, somewhere, somehow. But I want to CHANGE things. I want to put the “ACTIVE” in “ACTIVISM”.
Ugh. I want to give every mom their best birth. But this, inherently, is why I can’t. I can’t give someone something that is theirs already. It’s why doula work is so exhausting for me. It’s why I **think** I want to be a midwife.
I read a book by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With Wolves about a year ago. The basic principle of the book, or at least it strikes me as such, is that verbal traditions are what create lasting change and empowerment for cultures. And especially for women. I guess that’s the driving force for this book: the idea that through hearing other’s stories we will be changed, empowered, healed… and that’s ultimately the greatest thing that could happen to birthing women. To take back BIRTH.
I just wish I could do something for them, something for all of us, that would give those leaps of faith a more cushioned landing. Something … more.