We are getting ready for a search for my new faculty where I teach, so I was getting together all that we’re reading this semester so that the syllabus is ready to share when folks come to campus. It has taken four semesters, but it seems that we’ve gotten together a nice little collection of readings and an arc that makes sense of when we read what so that the readings build on each other. It gives me such pleasure that we’ve finally gotten a collection of readings that work. Although I do think I’ll need to add something in about community-based research. We need to have a better week on “how to do community research.” We read large parts of Smart Communities: How Citizens and Local Leaders Can Use Strategic Thinking to Build a Brighter Future, by Suzanne Morse, and Better Together: Restoring the American Community by Robert Putnam and Lewis Feldstein. They are actually a little dull in terms of “fun” reading but they do contain a lot of important information and examples that I think are helpful to students. But the fun part that most students love is the more popular stuff. I am sure I would get eye rolls from some on the amount of New York Times article we read, but it really engages the students, so I keep it in, realizing that we do have to good strong books and some more heavier academic stuff too. Here are the articles/interviews/reports we read. Each reading supports a different part of the research that they are doing – they start out by doing the big picture of an issue (e.g. homelessness), then they conduct interviews in the city about the state of that issue in our community, then they study best practices, and then they make recommendations for our city, emphasizing the assets to build on, but also with suggestions for improvement. The best thing of the whole class is that they get out into the community and see that no matter how much you read about something, it looks different on the ground. I feel like the What the Best Teachers Do book and workshop was so helpful to me last summer in that it helped drive home the importance of students trying to answer real and relevant questions that matter. Just like kids learn better by doing stuff rather than using flash cards, students also learn better by doing, when supported with readings and coaching, rather than just memorizing stuff.

Anyway, just a short break to reflect on the adventures of teaching and writing. And to procrastinate a little bit on my dissertation which will be turned in in three days!

Because I know you will all want to go out and look these readings up and read them on your own… here there are!

David Brooks, “If it Feels Right…” The New York Times, September 12, 2011.

Harry Boyte, “The Work of Citizens: A Conversation with Harry Boyte,” The Civic Arts Review 24(4), Summer-Fall 2012.

David Greenberg, “Why Last Chapters Disappoint,” The New York Times, March 18, 2011.

Alan Feuer, “Occupy Sandy: A Movement Moves to Relief (Where FEMA Fell Short, Occupy Sandy Was There),” The New York Times, November 9, 2012. (Hurricane Sandy Case Study)

Jonathan Haidt, “The Intuitive Dog and Its Rational Tail,” Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion (New York: Random House), 29-51.

Derrick Jensen, “Forget Shorter Showers Why Personal Change Does Not Equal Political Change,” Orion Magazine, July/August 2009. (Wicked problems reading packet)

Tim Kreider, “The Busy Trap,” The New York Times, June 30, 2012.

Peter Levine, “Why Political Recommendations Often Disappoint: An Argument for Reflexive Social Science,” Peter Levine’s Blog, April 4, 2011, peterlevine.ws/?p=6123.

John McKnight, “Why Servanthood is Bad,” The Other Side, Jan-Feb 1989.

Steven E. Mayer, “The Assets Model of Community Development,” Remarks made at the conference “Maximizing Returns on Community Investment,” 1991.

Keith Melville, et al. “What’s in a Story,” and “Let’s Talk,” The Democracy Project, Forthcoming, 2015.

Sarah Maslin Nir, “Helping Hands Also Expose a New York Divide,” The New York Times, November 16, 2012. (Hurricane Sandy Case Study)

Michael Pollan, “Why Bother?” The New York Times Magazine, April 20, 2008. (Wicked problems reading packet)

Andrew Postman, “The Energy Diet,” The New York Times, October 5, 2006, www.nytimes.com/2006/10/05/garden/05green.html?pagewanted=all (Wicked problems reading packet)

Selections from last semester’s State of the City Report – Homelessness Report and Quality of Life Report.

Rebecca Solnit. Selections from A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities that Arise in Disaster (Penguin, 2010). (background reading from Hurricane Sandy Case Study)

Addendum as requested by my most loyal reader, Mom: Here is the course description.

We are going to try to learn about how we can live better together. This will involve studying the self, democracy, citizenship, and community, among other things.

The idea is not to help everyone or be do-gooders (as lovely as that is), but the idea is that we have to live on this planet and in this country with other people and we are impacted by each other so it makes sense to try to find ways to make it go better for more people. We’ll learn how to solve problems with other people. We’ll learn what makes communities work well. We’ll learn about different ways of understanding ourselves and how this relates to understanding the communities we live in. This is an interdisciplinary course so it doesn’t focus on one area or discipline. There is an emphasis on thinking outside of disciplinary boxes and instead taking a broader and more holistic approach since the problems we face as a democratic nation in a complex, interdependent world demand a creative citizens who can think and act beyond traditional frameworks and expert solutions.

Although we are not out of the woods by any means yet, she is now awake and herself, and I do not have to cling to what I thought might be our last shared glance. Save for some confusion and forgetfulness that is common with such trauma, she is here. She has a stint in her skull going into her brain that drains out the spinal fluid that is backed up.

I read the numbers and glowing green graphs like a little crystal ball that might let me see something about how she is. I jump up when the machines beep, answering them like sirens calling for me to come hither. I devour medical journal articles on NASAH (nonaneurysmal subarachnoid hemorrhage, for those of you not in the know) like a fifth grader who just discovered Harry Potter, learning so quickly the lingo and the protocols as if me knowing them will somehow make it more likely that everything will be okay.

This life, it is so precious, we say over and over again like a little mantra to ourselves to remind our hearts and our minds to appreciate the beauty and fragility of it all. We are in an impossible bind where we must plan for a long-term life of financial security and safety and at the same time little quotes tell us to be present and in be in the moment and live as if it was the last day of your life. It is all impossible and broken and yet we must go on and find a balance and a way forward, more subject than we would like to be to our histories and the years of established synaptic patterns.

All the little noises of the ICR – the beeping and the cuffs inflating and deflating and the nurses giggling in the hall and the water flowing for the oxygen machine – they become familiar so very fast.

And, in the end, I think that there is little to be said. Over and over again our hearts break and we lose our breath and we feel the shaking of our hands as we long for a life of stability and love and comfort. And over and over again, it does not come and we try to love and we try to pray and hope and wish and stumble our way to something that makes this all worth it.

And so I just pray. For me and others who might have the same prayer.

God of all,
We come to you tonight, out of ideas.
Out of ways to make it better or easier.
We long for peace and stability.
For a safety that we’ve been chasing for so many years
That never comes.
I do not believe in an interventionist God.
I am afraid you are not up there with some sort of control board,
watching over my mother’s inter-cranial pressure or
Tim Tebow’s football games or the Egyptian referendum.
And so, we are left only to ask
that we are open to your Love
That I am told
Is already there.
Washing over us
Day and night.
In the ICU.
Over my sweet mother.
On our tongues.
In each heart ventricle.
With each beep of those machines
And click of the nurses’ shoes
May we know of the preciousness of this all.
The moments in the ICU
and a thousand other imperfect moments
of pain and hope and joy and tragedy
and banality.
All we have in this little tiny slice
Of time we get on this spinning planet.
Help us live into the awareness of your Love.
And the Holiness of all of this.
It must be holy, God,
It must be. Right?
God, so many of us have run out of ideas
about how to make this work.
Be with us as we try to let go of the trying
And the fixing
Of the feeling sorry for ourselves
And the mental and verbal reviews of the injustice Of it All.
May we practice presence.
Awareness of the power
of what we can do in those seconds
To love and be kind and speak up
To do things differently
To move closer to Right.
These moments and moments.
For it is, we remember (and then forget), all we have.
Amen and Blessed Be.

*

My dearest B,

I hope you’ll take time to read what I have to say here

The first thing is that I love you. I love you deeply and with all my heart, like a family member. I have always seen a spark in you, a wonder, and magic. I have always believed in you. I will always believe in you no matter what, and I will always love you no matter what.

Secondly, I know I cannot know what your life is like. You have faced many many hard things – since you were small and since you have been an adult. This is not fair. No one should have to face the things you have. But, yet, the world is broken and unjust and good people face things they do not deserve. I know I cannot know what this is like.

Third, I’m sorry if you think I lecture you too much or I am too silly or cheerful with you. I somehow thought that you liked this and that this worked well for our relationship. I am happy to stop this, to tone it down. I thought somehow that you appreciated it, as a bit of cheer that you may not have other places in your life and also that you knew that my challenging you came from a place of believing in you and loving you and knowing your great potential. Please feel free to be honest with me and tell me what you need from me. I much prefer an honest real relationship, to a fake relationship like I am some sort of social worker or something.

And, in the spirit of being honest, here is what I have to say. I hope that our relationship over the years lets you know I say it with deep love and respect for you.

You have two dear children and another child that is like a son to you. Their lives have already been too hard. I believe that you, with sweet E, have the ability to give them a better life – the kind of life that you did not have. But, and I know you know this, this is going to involve making hard decisions. No one taught you well how to make hard decisions and I know it is very hard to teach yourself that. In many ways, you’ve succeeded on your own to do better than many from your neighborhood which is amazing and speaks to your spirit and strength.

But, what your boys deserve – and what you deserve – is a stable life. The house on H Street will not provide that sort of stable life – it will not fix everything. But, it is a start. You have the possibility to OWN the house. To get support from me, and from M, and from others that we connect with. I had that sort of support from my family – it was pure luck. Sometimes we get it from our biological families and sometimes we get it from others who love us deeply even if they are not blood family. I have no desire to force you to do anything, but I do want to say that I want you to jump on this opportunity. Sometimes doing the right thing is just very hard and takes several tries. I’m sorry about the challenges with the house the first time, but I want you to give it a second chance. I really believe we can make it beautiful, that you can own it, that you can live in a decent neighborhood and with time get decent jobs where you make more and where life is not as hard. This is what your Mom wanted for you – an easier life, a better life.

I also really want you to go to the job center and get food stamps. I know you don’t like it, but it is there for a reason and would make a difference while you and your family try to get on your feet. I have loaned you a good bit of money which I am happy to do, but I also want you to do whatever you can to get support from other sources too. I would also like you to try to get medical coverage. If you don’t do it for you, I wish you would consider doing it for your boys who need you to be healthy.

I want you to know from the bottom of my heart this is not a lecture. I believe in you more than I think you do and perhaps more than anyone in your life. I KNOW you can be more than someone who plays fucking video games all day. That is such an insult to who you can be and what you can do in this world that longs for good, decent loving people like you. It is a waste of who you can be and who you are. I am never sure how religious you are – and maybe I am not sure how religious I am – but I do believe that you were created and brought into this world for a purpose. That you were made by a God that has plans of goodness for you and your children. I want to find a way to get to that – to live into that Hope and Love that is part of who you are.

I will love you always, no matter what you do. I will believe in you always. At the same time, I think this is turning point in your life. It is a time when you can decide to be another Black kid from the projects who half-asses things. I would love you even if that is what you decide. But I believe you can be more than that. You are one of the most special people I’ve ever known. And I want to see you live into the fullness of who you can be. I was pleased the other day when you told me that I do not over-estimate you. I hope this is the time when you live into the fullness of who you can be. I don’t expect miracles, but over time, deep effort, lots of trying, lots of hard choices will yield a life that is worthy of all of your gifts.

I love you dearly, B. You are an absolute miracle with unlimited potential.

I hope you don’t get too irritated at me for writing this. I hope you read it all.

With deepest care and affection,

Elizabeth

Don’t get me wrong. I really love everyone taking time to be thankful and give attention to our families. I also am very aware that most folks, like us, don’t really tend to associate our holiday traditions with the supposed first Thanksgiving meal. Aside from the ridiculousness taught to most elementary school kids, pilgrims and Native Americans are not really part of Thanksgiving for many of us.

So I get that my feelings about Thanksgiving could be read as crazy liberal stuff, crazy vegetarian stuff. I am certainly not going to raise this with my family or neighbors because I don’t want to be seen as the strange one ruining the fun talking about Native Americans and trying to stand up for turkeys or something. We eat a vegan fall meal in our home on Thanksgiving and welcome anyone who wants to join us.

But, in a way, this is sort of my concern. Because violence get normalized when those who point out the violence (historical or present day) are the “weird” ones.

So, on the one hand, I want to avoid disrupting a nice day by good people who are just trying to have a good meal together. On the other hand, I want not to normalize the history and the killing that is quite literally at the center of this holiday, with the turkey in the middle of the table.

So here is the story we tell in our family around Thanksgiving:

Our son was born at home, at the end of a dead end road in Plymouth, Massachusetts. Our house was up against ten acres of woods and it was quiet and I can’t think of a better place for him to have been born. It was a chilly spring day that he was born. I wasn’t able to get out of bed for over 24 hours. Finally, when I got up for the first time my partner said, “Look out the window!!” I looked out into our back yard, which was right up against the forest and there were 14 wild turkeys, a deer, two bunnies, and a squirrel sitting out in our yard. It was misty out, early in the morning, the day after our son had been born.

We tell him that the animals in the forest knew that a new creature had been born in the woods and they came to welcome him. In a way, I’m sure that is not quite true. But, in another way, I have to wonder if it is. We had never seen any turkeys or deer until this moment – just the occasional bunny and our squirrels.

We tell our son that the turkeys were excited to see him especially because they are simple, peaceful animals and it is a message to us that we do best when we also live simple and peacefully.

We tell him the story of how, many years ago, people lived in the land we now call Plymouth, his birth place, and people came from Europe and wanted to live there too. We haven’t gotten to the details (i.e. the massacres) but in general we point out that it is hard when different people want to live in same place and we need to be thoughtful about how we live with others – the harm we cause and the ways we can lessen that. We tell him that his birth location and his welcome by the turkeys and other animals of the woods is a gift to him to remember the ways that we can live more peacefully, with a spirit of welcome. Eating animals in general seems strange to him since he has never eaten animals and rarely sees others do so. But, we hope that, over time, his birth story helps him remember his connection to animals and to history such that it calls him to make a different sort of world than the one we have.

I get that it might seem hippie or cooky to some. But, for us, it is a small way to say that there is enough killing in the world. There is enough pain and enough violence and we’re just going to do our best to lessen how much of that we take part in, recognizing that we can never fully extract ourselves from this broken world with broken systems of violence that we are a part of. But, at the very least, we’ll try not to celebrate it and try to opt out when we can.

Except now, as they laughed in our kitchen, I was five
And my sister was three
And we were not quite sure what to make of these
Mystical people who would show up
And we would stay up past our bedtime
Listening to their stories
Pondering at their unfamiliar mannerisms
In our yellow kitchen
Too late into the night

He had hundreds of albums
And I can’t remember if I saw him and my father
Playing them on the turn table and drinking beer
With smoke around them
Or if I just pictured it in my mind that way
Because I had heard the small simple
Legends of the camaraderie and joy
Of the time sitting
And listening and talking and drinking
And basking in the wonder of
Friendship that became a synergy
Of magic and a kind of madness

The descent for these dear people
Whom my parents loved
Was so rapid that it is almost
Not possible to think about it
Or make sense of the liver cancer
And brain cancer
And the loss
And illness
It all happened so quickly
Yet in a sort of bizarre painful slow motion

And these mythical people
Faded fast
Like the ghost from 1976
That they seemed to me to be

Like so many beloved and central people in our lives
They were not without great faults
Yet we don’t often love people
Because they are without faults
But because they would die for us
And we would die for them
And we have laughed with them
And cried
And we retell our stories
Like the smoldering ashes of the dawn

And so it goes again
The passing of this time
Like a hammer smashing the finger
And it comes again and again
And you get used to it
Realizing that that pain
Is just part of what it means
To live

And we say goodbye again
To people we love
Who were broken and flawed
And magical and glorious.

This said, I think there is a difference between acknowledging systems of harm and violence in which we all take and celebrating it. I have to admit as I see people I admire and care about post pictures of small children with freshly shot animals, or excited posts about children killing their first turkey or deer, my heart aches. Because, I think when we kill animals and say “This is neat and for children,” we normalize harming others needlessly. We do not need meat to be healthy, or if you don’t buy that (even though I do), at the very least, we need much less of it. So even if you think we need it, it is one thing to say, “We think that this is essential to health and yet we still regret that we must kill beings who suffer in order to live as we think we need to,” and it is another thing to say, “This is a way to connect to nature! There is a rush. This is something to be proud of. This is normal. This is fine. This is nothing to weep at.”

Because when we learn that we should not weep at the suffering of animals by our own hands, it cannot stop there. We learn not to weep at the suffering of others in our own hands. Child abuse and bullying appears to be epidemic in the United States. We run around, baffled, developing programs to stop bullying and calling, most often in vain, for people to stop abusing children. We say that we need more social workers. Stricter laws. More oversight. But, what I say, is that when violence in normalized – when harming other beings who suffer and feel is considered not only to be essential for survival  but also a sport, also fun, also a rite of passage, also fun, also something to be proud of, then is it any wonder that it becomes more possible to harm each other without feeling as though it is all that bad? Or, even if we know something is bad, this often does not free us from doing these things, as we are part of systems of violence and deeply influenced by  formative moral experiences. Hurting others gets normalized. When we shoot animals. When we eat meat. When we eat our vegetables grown by underpaid workers who die early from cancer because of such hard work and pesticides and no health care. The question for me is how we can, with the very love and care that we long for in the world, denormalize the suffering that is part of the fabric of how most U.S. Americans live.

I am so very far from perfect. I know that so many of the ways that I live causes harm to other beings who suffer. Thus, I think vegetarians who take some sort of dramatic moral high ground do not serve their causes well. At the same time, I do think it would be good to examine more closely how our normalized practices of violence might impact the world in which we live and the world that we create. Annie Dillard says that the way we spend our days, is the way that we spend our lives. I’m not sure that we are able to separate what we do for sport and fun and what we eat for dinner from the larger swath of how we are in the world. I suppose this leads me to want to think of my life not in some sort of moral absolutist terms, but in terms of formation and harm reduction. Perhaps the more we reduce harm and become aware of and face the harm we do, the more we might build on that. Maybe this means walking more. Planting a garden. Buying from a local farmer. Eating less meat. Not giving our children guns. Not yelling at our children. Not spanking them. Pretty much, trying to live in a way that treats others who can suffer the way we would like to be treated if we were them. I know it sounds a little cliched, but it does seem to make sense that in both direct (shooting a deer) and indirect (buying produce from a source that causes workers harm) we should try to treat others how we would want to be treated. For me, humans are an important part of this, but I would say that suffering is a central factor which also includes non-human animals. Surely we should treat our pets with care and reduce suffering and we can relate to why we might wish to do that. It seems like we might wish to extend that to other animals who can suffer too.

And as both a call and a prayer I say to myself – less harm, I’m sorry, less harm, and I’m sorry, calling myself to do less harm while also knowing that I cannot stop it.

It may be that churches and people faith might take a similar position, acknowledging the ways we are products of a broken world, but also acknowledging and celebrating the ways that we can take small steps toward something different.

May it be so.

We don’t discipline at all and it has worked very well for our family. For us, this means no time-outs, no punishments, no raised voices, minimal coercion, no hitting or spanking, and limited positive reinforcement. I certainly think that there are many loving, caring ways to raise healthy and well-adjusted children, but we take the view that we treat him how we would like him to treat others. We don’t want him to learn that the way you get other people to do what you want is to punish them, coerce them, or hurt them. We want him to learn that you talk to them, kindly, and explain. You are patient. You reason with them and show by example. You compromise. And, ultimately, you have to honor the decisions that other people make – you shouldn’t force them or manipulate them. Our three-year old seems pretty well-adjusted and we often get compliments on how well he gets along with other children. Not to brag, but just to point out that there haven’t been any dramatic “wild child” consequences (as had been predicted by some family members when word of our approach got out).

I did not post this on facebook, but I would add that I think this approach is harder in the short-term. We certainly could do with more cooperation, less negotiation, and, generally, things just going more the way we want them to more often and more quickly. But, I really believe that our children learn how to be in the world by the way that they see their parents treat them and others. As our son cognitively develops, I think he understands why we do and don’t do certain things. Why we help each other, why we are kind to each other and that these are his own insights rather than just doing things because he knows that he should or that there are consequences. Giving him that space and time to come to conclusions on his own – and different from the ones we wish for – has been both hard, but extremely rewarding because when he does come to things on his own rather than as a result of pressure or threats, it is really a pretty amazing thing to witness.  For us, it is both about the process and the result. I get that children can “turn out well” if you parent in a different way. But, Elijah is a full person now. So, for me, it is not just about treating him this way because we want him to turn out well (although that is of course part of it) but because we really do believe that we should treat people how they want to be treated, even when they are a child.

I have learned a lot from years of reading Mothering Magazine (so sad that it isn’t published in hard copy any more), from reading blogs of parents who unschool and use non-violent communication, from mothering.com message boards, from listserves, from facebook groups, from books, and from kind families that are willing to openly share their struggles, successes and changes. We are always learning and changing. I’ve had to learn how to be more gentle with myself and with others. Thus, I put this out there not as a way to judge, but to say what has worked well and made our family life rich, rewarding, and in many ways quite peaceful. It is so nice that there are few battles and that I have given up being responsible for making my son be how he “should,” instead trusting him to learn and grow at a pace that make sense for him. Thus far, understanding and change comes. Not always right when I want it, but in his own time as he grows into who he is as a small person. It isn’t easy, but it really has been just about the highlight of my life, I think. I feel so peaceful and at ease about our parenting approach. And there is hardly anything in my life that I feel peaceful and at ease about, so it has been a huge gift.

This whole election season has been disheartening and depressing and I just cannot bring myself to pretend that I think otherwise. I think so many regular people like me (not to mention my students) are alienated by the partisan ridiculousness, the harshness of both sides being nasty and making fun of each other, and failure of the system to speak with authenticity to the everyday people who want to work hard, care for others, balance public good with personal needs, and make our world a livable place.

So, I say, do your voting. Then, roll up your sleeves and try to make the world better. Because I can make a promise: neither candidate is going to make this world the world you want. That can only be done day in and day out by everyday folks trying to do the hard work of love and justice and freedom that so many religious and political folks say they value.

But, as I read more about, I got it.

First, being in the hospital is dehumanizing. You have doctors and nurses you don’t know well, involved in one of the most intimate parts of your life, often overworked, pressuring you, in a hurry, and often using language that implies that there is a threat to you or your child. For me, this wasn’t about wanting a “spa-like” birth or something. It was about wanting to be in a place that treated me, my child, my wishes for my birth and my child with basic respect and care. This, perhaps, on its own would not have led me to have a homebirth, but it was a factor.

Second, and most importantly for me, it is difficult to have a birth in a hospital where mother (and child, once born) are not subjected to interventions (or pressure for interventions) which do not improve the outcomes for either mother or baby. (And often actually increase the risk of harm to either mother or baby.) I will not review the research on this, but I spent a lot of time reading articles in medical journals and reading meta-analysis of studies about what interventions are shown to improve the outcome for mother and/or baby. I would suggest that anyone who is considering birthing at home or a hospital, take time to look at the research on outcomes. Read the journal articles, and then read the responses to them. Ask yourself, do the many interventions that frequently take place in hospitals improve outcomes for mother or baby? Do they reduce them? Am I prepared to argue with doctors and nurses about my care while in labor? Do I feel like my wishes will be honored? Will the doctors and nurses respect my right to informed consent on the procedures I am encouraged to undergo?

For instance, I am not aware of evidence that routine procedures such as electronic fetal monitoring, episiotomies, ultrasounds, labor induction, or pain reduction measures improve outcomes for mother or child although all of these practices are routine and widely encouraged for women in the U.S. There is, however, amble evidence that c-section rates are unreasonably and unnecessarily high, resulting in significantly reduced outcomes for mother and baby. And, we know that electronic fetal monitoring and inductions lead to higher c-section rates which bring with it a range of risks to mother and baby that does not occur with a vaginal birth.

So, while I honor the decisions of mothers and families to birth at home because it feels more empowering or peaceful, for me, I birthed at home because I thought it would be safer for me and my child. The birth situation in the United States is not good. Amnesty International argues that maternity care for women in the United States is a basic violation of women’s human rights, where the maternal death rate has more than doubled since 1987. I felt as thought I was likely to have a better outcome birthing at home with an experienced midwife.

For those considering your birthing options, here are some thoughts, for what they are worth:

*Ultimately, I think this is the decision of the mother and family. I am not saying you should birth at home. I am explaining why this was the best decision for us. I understand why others would make a different decision. I think the key is to be informed about the risks and options of either choice and make a judgement based on your own values. If you are able to be informed, it seems like that is an important step. I do not think you can trust most doctors to make the best decision for you. That said, I acknowledge that it is difficult to do this kind of research and thus honor families who simply do not feel like they can take this on.

*We were 17 minutes from the nearest hospital. If we would have been much further, I may have considered other options.

*My pregnancy was low-risk on every account. I went to 42 weeks, which may have made some folks concerned, but even the American Congress of Obstetrics and Gynecology acknowledges that post-date is after 42 weeks.

*I did not have two midwives present and I regret this. Things were fine, but if I had it to do over again, I would have requested that there be two midwives rather than a midwife and her apprentice who was less experienced than I realized.

*I found out after my birth that my midwife was a Christian Scientist. I am not sure if this impacted her decisions about my birth, which ended up going fine, but in retrospect I would have asked even more questions about her birth philosophy and philosophy of intervention (or lack thereof). We liked her a lot and she has delivered many babies. I wish, in retrospect  that I would have still asked even more questions.

*I recognize that it is a balance between the risk of an immediate, acute danger which cannot be dealt with at home and a range of (typically) less acute risks that are associated with hospital births. Because all indications were for a low-risk pregnancy, our proximity to a hospital, and my own awareness of how difficult it would have been for me to birth in a hospital environment, we opted to avoid the more likely range of risks associated with hospital births rather than the much less likely risk of an acute situation that could not be addressed at home or by a quick transfer to the hospital.

*I recognize that there are many cases where c-sections and interventions make complete sense and save the life of the mother and/or baby. My concern is that most of the time, interventions do not appear fall in this category. Thus, this is what we hoped to avoid.

*I really really hate medical situations where people don’t treat me with respect or care and/or are not aware of the most recent studies about best practices. It causes me extraordinary anxiety to be in these sorts of situations, whether it a birth situation or when my doctor doesn’t understand the risks of a medication he or she is prescribing for me because they don’t keep up with the literature. Which I get is hard for doctors but, you know, it is sort of like my life we’re talking about here so it still just bothers me. I knew that this would impact my ability to birth well. So that was a factor in my decision. My son was born in five hours and I’m convinced a huge part of that is because I felt comfortable with people who treated me with care and respect and trusted me to know what I needed (which was absolute silence and no one bothering me).

*I am currently within the vicinity of a hospital with an OB who is known to honor mother’s wishes for a natural, intervention-free birth except when interventions are clearly indicated based on knowledge of what improves outcomes for mother and baby. Thus, if I was to have another child while living where I do, I would probably birth a hospital because I know that the doctor and her staff are aware of best practices, would not pressure me, make an effort to honor mother’s wishes, and work to minimize interventions, with attention to the informed consent of the family. All of that is to say, if we could have the best of both worlds – hospitals that practice based on outcomes, providers that respect and care for the mother and family, I am all for hospital births.

*I hope eventually to add a collection of articles and resources to this post that helped me in my decision-making. But for now, those are some of my thoughts for those who are thinking through this issue from a home birth mother who wasn’t very interested in an empowering birth. No incense or music or aromatherapy for me (although more power to you if you like that sort of thing). Mostly I just wanted a birth where I was healthy, my baby was healthy, and I was treated with care and respect. A home birth seemed like the best way for me to increase those chances.