My trip

Tomorrow very early in the morning, I'll be getting on a plane to head to one of my favorite places: Haiti. I'm going to be working with an organization called Olive Tree Projects in Jacmel. I've been to Jacmel once before and loved its laid back atmosphere. This will be my first time working with Olive Tree. My plane arrives in Port au Prince late Saturday afternoon. I will then catch a ride to the other side of the island with a team working at another organization in Jacmel. The last time I went to Jacmel, my family took a tiny plane for a scary 13 minute flight over the mountains of Haiti. The drive will be much longer, but I'm looking forward to the adventure (as long as I don't get car sick).

Drinking out of coconuts in Jacmel, 2006

The main function of Olive Tree is to provide safe and loving maternal healthcare. They also work alongside Haitians to improve the community through adult education and girls' soccer. While I'm flattered by people's kind comments of how wonderful I am for doing this, I have to be honest: this trip is purely selfish. One day I want to be a Certified Nurse Midwife and possibly own a birth center/home birth practice. Because I'm an American going into midwifery from the medical model (as opposed to a direct-entry midwife who was not a nurse first), the majority of my training will be in a Western hospital setting. This trip gives me the chance to work with a Canadian midwife in a third world country. Midwives are known for having hands-on skills that may be lost in the obstetrics model due to the technicalization of birth, i.e. the standard is breech babies are born via cesarean surgery and few obstetricians have ever delivered a vaginal breech baby. Midwives, especially in an out-of-hospital setting, tend to rely on things like measuring the uterus with a measuring tape to estimate fetal growth instead of using ultrasound (which tends to be inaccurate as the pregnancy progresses.) If there is a natural disaster in the states and we lose all the technology we depend on, what do we turn to if we don't have the basic skills of assessment and palpation? I am so excited to be a part of the daily norms of this maternity clinic for that reason. It will be a different perspective and set of skills that I look forward to experiencing early in my nursing career.

Short term trips do little to improve the lives of the people they intend to touch. My goal is not to make a difference in the day to day lives of Haitians. My goal is to learn and grow and be a better person and eventual clinician. My goal is to bring needed supplies and also the little things like mascara and chocolate to the woman who carries the burden of this ministry on a daily, long-term basis. My goal is to provide company and friendship and refreshment to the people doing the difficult work and actually making the difference. The type of missions that work are the ones that build relationships and intimately know the community's needs because they are a part of it. I'm simply attempting to come alongside those people, learn from them, and hopefully be a blessing to them.

There are six babies due in the month of June. I'm praying that some babies are born during my ten day stay. Not only for my own learning, but also so that it works out that Sarah, the midwife, has an extra set of hands around. I'm also praying that my travels are smooth and safe and that I can easily meet up with the people I'm getting a ride with. I'm praying that going through customs is uneventful and that none of my items get taken. I'm praying that my bags and all their contents make it to their final destination. I'm praying for health and energy while I'm there (no malaria, please). Will you pray with me? I don't know how much internet access I will have, but I will do my best to post updates and pictures. Thank you for your support!

Holding a half French, half Haitian cutie on the beach in Jacmel, '06

military dictionary

Having a family member in the military means having to learn a new language.
I've complied a short list of some commonly used acronyms or terms.
Disclaimer: These definitions are what I know of the terms and may not be absolutely correct. My husband is in the Army, so these may not apply to other branches.

ACUs- Army Combat Uniform, the basic camouflage uniform that soldiers wear on a day to day basis, and while deployed
ASUs- Army Service Uniform, also known as dress blues. The class "A" uniform is the more formal uniform. Class "B" is the less formal uniform with a white short sleeve shirt.
PC- Patrol cap, AKA the hat that goes with the ACU
MOS- Military occupation specialities. Basically, your soldier's job. His/her MOS is usually a number and a letter like 11B, which means infantry.
Basic training- (The term "boot camp" is not used in the Army.) The initial training a soldier receives. Where it takes place and its duration depends on the MOS.
AIT- Advanced individualized training. This training phase is often combined with basic training for one lump of initial training or takes place shortly after basic. It is specific training geared toward the individual's MOS.
PT- physical training. "PTs" is used to describe the uniform to be worn during PT.
FRG- Family Readiness Group. This is usually run by the Captain or the Captain's wife, if he is married. The FRG can be a great source of information about upcoming events on post, training schedules, and important dates. FRGs often host meetings and events for spouses and families. At its worst, it can be a way for people to gossip and complain. At its best, it can be a way to meet new people, get involved, and be informed about the happenings of the company.
Px/Bx- Post exchange/base exchange. This is a store on post/base. (An Army instillation is a "post." "Base" is used by the Air Force and Navy.) What they sell varies from store to store, but it's kind of like a Walmart. You can sometimes find cheaper prices here than at a civilian store.
Clothing and Sales- Another store. This one specifically sells uniform items- boots, patches, ribbons, shirts, pants, socks, etc. You can also often find gift shop items like "Proud Army Dad" shirts and bumper stickers. This might be a place visiting family members would want to check out.
Commissary- grocery store on post
DFAC- dining facility, most often used by soldiers who live in the barracks
Barracks- dormitory-style living facility for single, lower-level enlisted soldiers
Deployment- period of time in which a group of soldiers leave the country for the accomplishment of a specific mission, typically in a combat situation (or in support of one)
"Outside the wire"- when soldiers leave their combat outpost during deployment to go on patrol or some other function/mission of deployment
"In the field"- When service members are "in the field" they usually are quite literally out in a field conducting some sort of training exercise
PCS- Permanent change of station. A fancy way of saying "moving."
CQ- charge of quarters. 12-24 hour shifts to guard the front of the barracks. This includes doing random barracks checks/patrols and signing in soldiers who have to check in every hour due to disciplinary actions. Mostly, it's a lot of sitting around and a glorified "rent-a-cop" duty for the barracks.
Staff duty- Similar to CQ but at the battalion level instead of the company. Battalion secretary/rent-a-cop
BAH- Basic Allowance for Housing. An allowance given to those who live off post. The amount is based on rank, whether or not the soldier has dependents, and the cost of living of the general area.
BAS- Basic Allowance for Subsistence. Part of income for those who live off post, specifically for food. It is in place of having access to the DFAC.
LES- leave and earning statement, AKA a pay stub
Tricare- health insurance for service members and their family
DEERS- Defense Enrollment Eligibility Reporting System. I'm not sure of the full function of the DEERS office but this is where you go to get your military ID and enroll for health insurance. It's about as efficient and pleasant as the DMV. Making an appointment online will help shorten your wait time. To get a dependent military ID, the active duty service member must be present (unless the service member is deployed and you have a power of attorney specifically stating you can act in his/her place at the DEERS office) and you have to have all required paperwork (usually a government issued picture ID like a driver's license, social security card, sponsor's active duty military ID, and a marriage license).
MyCAA- an education grant provided for military spouses. If you meet the criteria, you can receive up to $4,000 in grant money for college

One of the hardest things for me to remember was how a group of soldiers was organized. I learned it best starting from the biggest group down to a smaller, more specific group. However, if you ask a soldier what unit they are in, they will usually say it starting from the smallest to largest entity. Here's how it works from biggest to smallest:
Division > Brigade > Battalion > Company > Platoon
It breaks down ever further into sections and squads in some units. If you look at an address for a deployed soldier it will usually read like this (or something similar):

Rank Last Name, First Name
 --- Co (company), ---- (a number which represents the battalion), --- BCT (brigade), --- DIV (division)
The name of the post/base
APO, AE and a zip code

Sadly, this is a very short list of the terms one must learn to understand the military world. I don't know that I'll ever be fluent in "Army" but I hope this list helps some new family members!

last minute

It's 8:40 pm and my phone rings. It's my husband. I haven't seen him in six days. I'm laying on the couch in my pajamas, hair up in a messy bun, with the day's make up smeared under my eyes. He says he's on his way home. They released him last minute. "Yay! So you have tomorrow off?" "No, I have to be back at 0800." Awesome. Less than 12 hours off after working six days straight. Sigh. I'm thankful that he's on his way home and decide to make a night of it. I quickly brush my hair and change my clothes. I'm sitting on the edge of the tub, one hand shaving a leg, the other brushing my teeth.

We have this routine down to a science. I tell him I don't care that he hasn't showered in six days, I still want a hug and a kiss. He empties his ruck and I get laundry going while he showers. I ask him from the shower if he wants a beer or a margarita. Margaritas it is and the blender is going by the time he's out of the shower. I ask him if he wants to stay in, get take out, or go somewhere to eat. It's already past 9 pm, but we have to make the best of the time we have. He packs up his ruck with new socks, boxers, and undershirts and moves his uniforms to the dryer while I finish getting ready. It is boring day to day stuff but we are a team and know how to run the system efficiently. It's morning and he's gone again before I know it.

Everything is last minute with the military. There is no planning ahead.

 "Will you be able to visit for Christmas?" "I don't know." "When will you know?" "Probably not until November or December."

"Can we let you know the day of if we are coming or not?" "Can you let us know by Friday? Having a baby makes it hard to plan last minute." "I understand. I will let you know as soon as possible."

"Let's go on a double date!" "Well, I can come, but I don't know if John will be home or not."

"Hey! It's good to see you! Where's your husband?" "He's in the field."

This is the military life. I often go to functions solo. My answer often is that I for sure will be there and maybe John will. John tells me to plan on going to things despite his schedule because he doesn't want me to miss out on things. Most of the time I do. However, sometimes I'm also the girl who stays home at the off chance that he'll come home because I don't want to miss the few precious hours he will get.

Thankfully, it's not like this all the time. Gunnery, a big training exercise, is going on all month so it's more crazy right now than it usually is. However, the military offers a lot of opportunities for spouses to be very independent. It often means not seeing your spouse for days, weeks, months, or even more than a year at a time. It means packing up the entire house alone and living apart for awhile. It sometimes means having a baby without the father present. When John got back from deployment, someone at church asked if he was my boyfriend. Being a military spouse sometimes means that people think you're single.

It also means that sometimes you look like an unreliable flake because you can't commit to plans. Naturally, I'm a planner. I plan dinners for the week and have things on the calendar months in advance. I like details and don't appreciate big surprises. I want to be prepared. I've had to learn to be more flexible. I've had to learn that I can't just freak out and say, "but I'm not ready!" Now I just say that I'm happy and run frantically to the bathroom to shave my legs and brush my teeth at the same time like a champ.

pregnancy courtesy 101

Because I'm a woman in my mid-twenties and have worked as a doula, I've had lots of pregnant women vent to me about things that were frustrating during pregnancy. A lot of the complaints have to do with family and friends. Most of these lovely ladies would prefer to not saying anything directly because they fear hurting a loved ones' feelings isn't worth laying down some ground rules. Since I currently know approximately 76.3 pregnant women, I thought I'd compile a list of some common complaints and general rules my pregnant friends might like you to follow.


1. So you just found out your friend/daughter/sister is pregnant? That's so exciting! However, unless she explicitly says she wants you to tell someone, keep it to yourself. She loves you and is excited to share the news with you, but don't ruin that trust by blabbing the news. Perhaps she hasn't gotten ahold of a family member just yet and doesn't want them to find out through the grapevine. Maybe they've had a history of miscarriage and don't want the news public until the second trimester. You are excited and that's great, but it's their news to tell, not yours.

2. Stay off social media. Boy, do we live in a world of over-sharing! I'm just as guilty. Social media is a great way to keep in touch with relatives from afar, but we often forget to honor each other's privacy. If you are privy to information such as the gender of the baby, possible name choices, that the mom is in labor, the baby has been born, or you were there and have pictures, again please keep all of this to yourself unless she asks you to post the information on Facebook. Some moms appreciate having one person head up the spreading of the news so she doesn't have to, but many do not want it plastered all over the internet. Yes, this point is almost the same as number 1, but I feel that it is important to make it it's own point. We post pictures of our dinner and other trivial things- sometimes we forget what should go online and what shouldn't.

3. So your friend has decided to have an elective cesarean section/induction/no pain medication/home birth/whatever and you think that's a horrible idea. Maybe even a foolish or dangerous one. Guess what? It's none of your business. Trust that your friend/daughter/niece/sister is a wise and informed woman. Trust that her choice was based on research and guidance from a professional. If that's not the case, and you have a close and personal relationship with her and are concerned about her choices, politely ask questions. Maybe you don't know the whole story. Maybe she knows more about what is right for her and her family than you do. For some reason, pregnancy seems to be a time when everyone thinks they have a right to influence decisions or offer advice when they don't. Support and respect your loved one; she needs that more than your advice.

4. Ask her about things other than her pregnancy. She is more than an incubator. Ask her about politics and what she's been reading. Ask about her marriage and work. Just because it's growing to the size of a watermelon, doesn't mean that she is only a uterus. There's a good chance she wants to vent about heartburn and constipation, but maybe she also wants to tell you about her dreams and plans for the future.

5. Leave the cute outfits and accessories to the grandparents. Be the boring friend that buys diapers, wipes, soap, and organizer bins for her baby shower. Get her a cloth diaper cleaning service and throw in some hemorrhoid cream. She'll love you forever.


6. Once the baby the is born, make yourself useful. Don't show up without food. Pick up a broom. Do some laundry. Don't stay long and expect to be entertained. She just pushed out a tiny human that poops, cries, and eats every few hours. It's not about you.

7. If she chooses to breastfeed, don't be offended if she asks you to leave when she needs to feed the baby. The first couple of weeks can be tricky and trying to add in modesty makes it more difficult. Feeding her baby comes first and if she can't be comfortable about whipping out her boob in front of you, you gotsta go. And no she can't just give the baby formula this one time so you get to feed the baby. She didn't choose to breastfeed to make you feel left out.

8. If you're sick, stay away. It's kind of ridiculous that I even have to say it, but it seems that people need to hear it. You seeing the little one who will probably just lay there and sleep isn't worth potentially infecting the vulnerable baby for your few minutes of pleasure. Don't be that guy. It can wait until you are healthy.

9. Keep your horror stories to yourself. Her mind is already flooded with fears of arms growing out of foreheads and perineums ripping in half. If it's not helpful, assume it's hurtful. There is plenty of drama and scary birth scenes in our media; she doesn't need your input about how awful birth/breastfeeding/parenting might be. Encourage her instead. Remind her that she is strong and capable. She's probably totally freaking out right now; don't add to it.

10. Babies are not milk; they don't expire on a certain day. Due dates are simply educated guesses based on a lot of different averages. Sometimes babies are healthily and naturally born at 38 weeks, sometimes 42 weeks. If mom, baby, uterus, and placenta are all healthy.... everything is healthy! Please don't text her everyday asking if she's had the baby yet. Sometimes babies come too early or need some help coming out, but most of the time they come when they are good and ready. Everything will be okay... deep breath...


So what say you? Anything else you'd like to add to the list? Have I spoken well for you pregnant ladies? Can we all agree to follow theses rules?

allies

Hey newlyweds. I don't have much wisdom to share about this whole marriage thing because I've only been married two years. I'm still figuring it out, and I'm not always doing it very gracefully. I have learned a thing or two, though, and I'd like to share something with you. I think it's important and wise and helpful, so you should listen, mmkay? Are you ready for this?

Choose your friends wisely.

I know your mom already told you that 20+ years ago, but please hear this not as a motherly figure, but as someone who is still learning all this stuff too. Only certain people in your life should have authority over you. That's a part of establishing boundaries. Not everyone gets a say in how you live and act. In fact, most people shouldn't have a say. As you become an adult, that authority usually shifts from parents to peers. You get to decide who influences you. When it comes to important things like marriage, it would behoove you to choose those people wisely.

Here's the thing; as awesome as your partner is, he/she will one day be the most excruciatingly annoying and exhausting person you have ever met (and you will be the same for them). And you are going to turn to someone pissed off, tired, ready to dramatically throw your hands in the air in defeat. This person needs to be someone who is for your marriage. You might say some things you don't mean about your spouse. You probably will disrespect him/her out of your anger. You can choose to confide in someone who will agree with you- "Yeah, what an asshole!" Or you can choose someone who will honor your marriage and not stoke the fire - "I know you don't want to right now, but I'm going to pray." You need to select a few chosen people who have the authority to say, "I love you, but you are being the jerkface."

When you are angry, it feels good to have people agree with you. Our natural reaction is to turn to people who will feel the same way and shake their fists with us. However, you need to have allies in your corner; people who will listen and not minimize your feelings, but who will also give you wisdom and be for you and your spouse. These type of friends know that being supportive of you and your marriage also means supporting your spouse. They are allowed to be upset if you're hurting, but choose the ones who will put aside their own feelings to help you reach unity and resolution with your spouse.

When you have a fight and you want to call someone, stop and think, "Will this person help me to be more angry or to find grace for my spouse?" If your goal is to continue to feel righteous in your own anger, go ahead and pick the first type of person. However, if peace is your goal, choose a peace-loving person. Trust me, things can get pretty wonky in marriage; you don't need someone to help you be annoyed with your totally awesome, lovable, worthy spouse.

bel peyi

Everyone knows Haiti is poor. I knew it before I went there, yet I was shocked by my own shock. As a privileged white teenager, I snapped photos of burning tires and frail children. I was taken aback by trash in the streets and the overwhelming smell of urine. I wanted the kids at my school to see how other people live. I wanted to wake them up from their frivolous conversations about prom dresses and boyfriends. I wanted them to see. I wanted to make them see. You know it's poor, but do you really know how poor? I wanted to scream to all of them, they don't even have clean water to drink! Screaming, as if I knew all about it, yet just trying to wrap my own head around the things I'd seen. I saw desperation. I wanted to do something. I wanted to be a hero and save the poor black people with my education and intelligent plans.

This place fascinated me and gave me a sense of purpose, but a selfish one at that. I wanted to do good because it feels good. I liked neat, tangible successes. I painted an orphanage wall. I did crafts with those cute orphans. I never consciously felt superior, but I did feel like I had something to offer. But then I started to get to know the people. I began to feel the weight of their lives. The fixes were no longer easy. "Just leave him!" I told her. I thought it was absolutely ridiculous for her to stay with a man that sleeps around and treats her poorly. "But he pays for my daughter's education," she shrugs. "If these women would just stop sleeping around, maybe there wouldn't be so many infections and uncared for babies," I thought. And then someone lovingly explained to me that it's not that simple. Sometimes women don't have a choice about having sex. Wall after wall, notion after notion, they began to crumble and humble.

Then I saw the beauty. I had slowly begun to know the people. I knew their names and their hopes and they became my friends. Then the country came alive with color and life and burst out with so much beauty. I became fascinated in a new way. I no longer wanted to be a hero and wanted to just soak up all that Haiti had to offer me. I began to smell the salty ocean air and sos pwa bubbling on the fire. I had been seeing in black and white, distanced, shocked. Once I began relationships with Haitians, I started to see all the titillating and dangerous colors, so many shades of them that once again I was overwhelmed by what I saw. The photographs I took changed, though my perspective is still a work in progress. Rolling hills, clear blue oceans, smiling faces, the silhouette of couple dancing to kompa; I saw life. And now I find myself screaming again, but something different this time. Don't you see that she is so much more than poor? Yes, there's poverty. That's a truth that remains amidst the beauty; one doesn't cancel out the other. Visitors come and take pictures of the poverty and share with their churches the tangible things they've done. Those that live and breathe in Haiti get to know the beauty within the hero-less, intangible work they do. And maybe they'd like you to stop taking pictures of the trash and the sickness. Maybe they'd like you to stay long enough that you stop thinking you are a hero. Maybe they want you to stop offering all your crisp white ways and just take in what Haiti has to offer you. She has a lot give to the soul that is willing to receive the weight of her friendship.

six weeks

Lots of people have had these moments. Each story is different, but the actual moment isn't all that unique. Sitting, waiting the 5-10 minutes. Emotions flooding, nerves shaken. Some people want it, others don't. A positive or a negative, two lines or one. Waiting, watching the window, praying another line appears or hoping there isn't one. Whatever the story, many people have been here before.

Enough time elapses and only one line appears. My husband lets out a sigh of relief. I am unconvinced. I know there is something different about me. "Are you disappointed?" No. Disappointed is the wrong word. I just don't believe it. I decide I need to take another test, this time first thing in the morning when the sample is more concentrated. It might be too soon to tell, but I know.

I know, but I'm in denial and choose to not get another test. It's almost Christmas and family will be here shortly. I don't have any typical symptoms, but I am different on the inside. Something has changed within me. Two weeks later I wake up tired, ill, and achey. I had injured my back recently and decided it was that which was causing me pain. This pain was different though. It started out like a dull, annoying pressure. As the day went on, it was getting less easy to ignore. It became sharp and moved from my low back into my pelvic area. I had lost my appetite. I was trying to not ruin the family outing, but by lunch I insisted on going home. I laid down with ice on my back, silent tears running down my face as it became more intense. Now I could feel it in my thighs, every few minutes becoming increasingly more difficult to bear. The pain would come in waves. It would start in my lower back, come around to the front, deep in my body, and reverberate down my thighs.

I must see a doctor; they don't give me a choice. Silently I think to myself that this feels a lot like how I've imagined labor to feel. Still in denial, I did not verbalized what I thought was going on. The ER doctors speculate appendicitis; it is ruled out. They then turn to the possibility of a pelvic infection; the labs say otherwise. I assume they do a pregnancy test and since nothing is mentioned to me about it, I assume it's negative. My body is still violently trying to get rid of something. The morphine does nothing. They seem uninterested with my case and admit me for pain control. A doctor tells me my cervix is dilated, but no one answers my questions about why. They send me home with pain medication on Christmas eve.

My follow up appointment a week later does not lend much answers, except that in the ER they did a urine pregnancy test, which the lab said was inconclusive. They should have then done a blood test, says my primary physician. She is worried about a life-threatening ectopic pregnancy. I'm sent for more tests and that is ruled out. I finally have the courage to ask what had been on my mind: was this an early miscarriage? I'm given a political "we can't say that for sure" answer. No one wants to give potentially bad news when they aren't sure. I'm given the sense that because there is no life-threatening condition and that they can't definitively say, they want me to just drop it and not concern myself with the ugly "m" word.

I go home and share with a few select people what I believe. It's difficult for me because I believe in science and medicine and like things to be black and white. This situation isn't and it makes me uncomfortable. When I mention miscarriage, my family is sensitive and asks how I feel. I tell them I'm indifferent. I don't have the right to feel anything because I know nothing. I question if I'm trying to fill in the blanks to make myself feel better.  I wonder if I feel this way just because I didn't get answers about what was going on with my body.

When I can't get it out of my head, I begin to do research. I reach out to other women. I listen to their stories. Slowly, I allow myself to believe my intuition. I take in all the information and give myself permission to feel the things I'd been holding back. First it's relief that I'm not pregnant. And then shameful guilt that I felt that way. Then, quietly the sadness creeps in. I go through all these cycles alone, never mentioning it to anyone except a few anonymous women online. I process it all internally, sometimes resisting and fighting with my inner dialog. Two months after the incident, I finally confess to my husband all the things I'd be going through. He tells me I don't need a doctor or labs to give me the answers; I already have them. He gives me the confidence that I know my body better than anyone else. He tells me to talk to someone about it.

I do. I talk to a friend who also had a miscarriage. She helps me find peace. She tells me that the wide range of emotions are normal. She tells me her story and that makes me feel less alone, less awkward, less silent. I am reminded of the old saying, "A woman becomes a mother when she becomes pregnant. A man becomes a father when he sees his baby for the first time." For some reason I feel like I should be more like a man; that because I didn't see or know this child, I shouldn't have such strong feelings. Sweetly my friend says, "You were a mom for six weeks." And that's what I need to hear. It all makes sense and comes together for me. I was a mom for six weeks, my heart and body changed. For whatever reason, it was for only a short amount of time, yet the change still happened. Although I am feeling like my normal self again, for six weeks I was a different woman because of the life growing inside of me. I may be forever changed because of it, but it's a change that probably only I can detect. It was my secret, my intimate six weeks with a life only the most intuitive parts of me knew existed.






Late edit: I began to share this post privately among friends. I was overwhelmed at the amount of friends that have had similar experiences. Early miscarriages are very common and it seems that many women deal with them silently. The reactions also seem to be similar: flippant attitudes from the medical community, women dealing with a wide range of emotions from relief to grief, and difficulties between husband and wife because of a huge difference in how men and women experience the situation. It was because of this response from other women that I decided to post this publicly. Perhaps the sharing of my story may help others find peace.