equal day | equal night

Things I have been thinking about:

My mama. And the ceremony of birth as a communion with my mother, and myself. 

Grief is a wild thing. I hold mine like a warm blanket, cozy.

Being birthed may be one of the biggest grief stories of all, 

to be separated from my mama’s body is a wound.

Mid-winter I found myself sitting with a birthing person in transition, we didn't know yet that she would receive her baby into her arms in just a few surges, a few minutes that in some ways felt like an eternity of dark, quiet, heavy breath, salt, moaning, fear of a thing lasting forever, and even more spacious: the immensity of trust in oneself, to birth a baby.  

She finished her surge and looked up, to ask for someone to call her mom. 

“Tell her to come” is what she said. 

Tell her to come now.

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It's amazing how vast a moment can be, when it lasts a lifetime.

A brief moment of existing as myself in that room; a lifetime of yearning, and loving, and missing, and remembering 

the truth, of connection. 

Tell her to come. 

– and she did. 

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Learning about myself as a midwife.

I am building my clinical skills as I move through my apprenticeship. I am incredibly fortunate to be learning alongside the midwives and families and babies that I am. My preceptor Nancy Myrick, is an incredible teacher and a midwife of 20 years. She is a skilled teacher who loves teaching, and I feel that she particularly loves teaching me, which is a huge gift.

This season has been one of joy,

and one of practice.  

And it will continue;

mapping a baby on the inside of a body, counting heart tones, IV tubing, drawing blood, resuscitation and hemorrhage protocol.  I am learning to look through a clinical lens, to rule out, give guidance, and consent. I carry around 200lbs of textbooks and a maze of module work that seems unending. 

I count vessels in cord, and give traction, and catch babies, Take vitals. chart vitals. chart positions. chart consent. Chart.

I am using and stretching this cognitive, thinking part of my brain in incredible ways. In ways that are vital to my midwife self 

and I am also thinking about how I am preserving, recognizing, honoring and CREATING SPACE for the quieter parts. 

There is no language for this part, but I believe it is my greatest gift. 

I am witnessing birthing people, birthing their babies. I am witnessing families,

being born.

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The anatomy of need, after receiving. 

SO many folks have shown up to support me financially. My go-fund-me  has raised $18,000. Holy shit. Amazing. 

This money has made my program possible these last 6 months. 

And, the reality is I need so much more funding to get through my program. Specifically 5 times the amount we have raised. I have another year and a half of school + unpaid apprenticeship. The reality of being available 24 hours a day 6 days a week (for two weeks of the month) and 4 days a week (the other two), leaves very little space for paid work or making art for sale, or writing a workbook to publish for birthing families, or any of the other ideas people generously offer, suggest, and recommend me doing to get through school.

However, I am managing to take on one paid client a month in addition to the 4-6 that I attend in apprenticeship, alongside clinic days and didactic work and this has been working okay.

I have applied for 5 scholarships since October; written an essay prompt, specific to each scholarship,  for each application. Two of them were accompanied by a letter of recognition/ nomination. 

I am proud to announce here I have been awarded one  $700 scholarship from the California Nurse Midwives Foundation.

I say this though, with both pride and  deep frustration at the amount of effort it takes to apply, nominate oneself, follow up, and be denied, again and again. I, after 6 months of applying for these scholarships, have received an award that does not cover even one month of out-of-pocket tuition.

Two months ago, I spent 3 hours over two days on the phone with a philanthropist who is working with a lovely person that wants to give one million dollars to support organizations that support folks of color attempting to become midwives, doulas, and pelvic floor therapists. My name was given to her as a resource; someone who is deeply involved in the birth community, and identifies as BIPOC. I am so so grateful to have had the opportunity to have this conversation. To introduce her to community programs that are doing the work of continuing to make pathways in the reproductive care justice movement in ways that are making direct impact to the community (Shout out to the BIPOC Midwifery Fund,  Sisterweb,  Birthing Advocacy, Community Well , and Cornerstone ). What an honor to introduce this person, who is actually capable of moving funding, directly to the people and places that need it.

And, it has left me feeling really frustrated that the reality is, that actual student midwives who are struggling through school, and often cannot finish their programs due to the lack of support and daily stressers of what this pathway requires, will not ever receive that funding in a way that will sustain the journey, or even move the needle.

It is incredibly frustrating that you need to be a non-profit or large institution to be on the receiving end of donations from the folks wealthy enough to make big donations. There is an abundance of money being moved from donor to recipient in this city, but the reality is that if you are not an entity that also provides a tax write off, a badge of honor, or a party– then the folks with enough privilege to make an actual financial difference in a process, outcome, or future, are not interested in you. Or in me. 

There are so few programs in place to provide funding for community midwifery students, and they are so impacted that you may receive a $700 scholarship for every 5 you apply for. But know, the other 4 will might not even follow up. (Because they’re also not supported).

What the fuck. 

The energy it takes to worry about scarcity is so big. 

I’m tired. 

The energy it takes to be in constant evaluation of theneed to drop out of my program in the coming 3 months makes it really hard to be present for the things I need to be present for now, to be successful.

Side note: If you are someone who has asked to have a walk, or dinner, or a phone call in the last few months and I have not responded, I am sorry. 

This is a season.

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Scarcity is lie + Money is a thing

I am constantly in a conversation with myself about my relationship to scarcity,  the actual reality of my security,

and how it all exists in relation to my scarcity trauma. 

This is a major issue– because let me assure you that in this moment, my needs are met.

I am in the practice of building relationship with abundance. 

“My needs will be met. My needs will be met. My needs will be met.”

— This I say, as I hold the many smaller, younger, and future versions of myself. 

I have a community of people who are supporting me in tangible ways that matter in every moment. We dance in community care, together. 

I moved houses in January as a way to support this season; I left my single apartment of 7 years, where I was the only human, to a shared home with an old friend… across the street from the ocean.

I drink tea and walk on the beach with my dog every morning that I am not with a birthing person. 

This is abundance. 

I struggled writing this post because of the duality of embracing a mindset of abundance in an economy that demands finite resources. I am spritiually, community-wise, and experientially abundant, but the need for change and resources (money) is serious. Turns out, you can’t manifest your way to paid rent or food, or a new transmission. If we as a society, as members of a community with dollars available to fund those in fields we value (particularly BIPOC, Queer, disabled or otherwise marginalized folks), support needs to flow in new ways or the footholds we’ve established may be lost. I sense people don’t feel how tenuous it is already.

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Gratitude

If you are a person that has donated to my go-fund-me, shared the link, or told me you believe in me, THANK YOU.

If you feel called to donate for the first time, or donate again, my go-fund-me can be found here, or you can donate directly via venmo.

This is the way I will continue forward. 

On prayers, and affirmations, and community donations. 

Please keep sharing my go-fund-me with the folks that might make a small community donation. I want to share here that a dear friend of mine has committed to making a $30 monthly contribution to my fund. This my friends is HUGE.

It is sustaining.  

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Community announcements 

I am so so so proud to announce that I will be selling a small assortment of teas and salves at Hatch Midwifery in the inner sunset. They’ll be opening in the next month and stay tuned because this is a community space that will be rich with incredible offerings.

I will be facilitating a workshop in the new space called GROW: a retreat for families welcoming a sibling on April 27th. More about that very soon!

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~ Prayer ~

A prayer lately,

only exists in relation to the ocean and the sky. 

There are endless prayers for the endless grief points

I will not name them here.

They are alive in your body now, like mine

and this is an invitation to hold them 

close and tender.

The grass has moved to seed and dances in the morning wind as the hawk calls from the wire outside my window. 

close and tender

The water moves sand in ripples

close and tender 

The crows are circling their dead singing

shadows swirl against the cliff side

close and tender. 

The horizon that night was more crisp than I have ever remembered.

It’s a four island day he said behind me,

and the sky above sea

like a watercolor 

painting. 

– Yes.

this is a list

This, 

Is a list. 

 (a list does not tell the whole story).

---

It’s been 68 days since my dear Kassandra set up a go fund me to support my midwifery journey. 

Within this passing of time I have sat at the feet of 16 birthing people as they labored to bring their babies earthside. (This means a birth every 4 days, but I will tell you that birth does not do math problems, and it doesn’t always happen in one day)

I have attended 30 prenatal appointments in clinic. Listening to parents and babies through bodies and heart tones and blood pressures and pulses,

developing my hands as my eyes. 

Listening to stories, and intentions, to prayers.

Listening. 

I have sat in the homes of families as they learn their new shape; swooning and sweating and bleeding and grieving and loving. Becoming. Weighing babies in fish scales and listening to lungs and the stories.

So many stories.

I have

completed a Neonatal Resuscitation course,  

drawn blood from my preceptors arms, twice on both sides (thank you, Nancy),

I have drawn up meds (and administered them),

 cracked the oxygen tank many times over (luckily have not had to use that yet). 

and SO MUCH  CHARTING (this is *becoming a skill). 

I have gone to bed at 7pm more than I can count on one hand, and woken to call in the wee hours of the morning more than I can count on two. 

 I have canceled 8 out of 10 paid work days to be at births in the last month. 

I have asked for help. I have asked for help. I have asked for help.

I have laughed, and cried, and picked fights about things that didn't matter with people I love, because we do that sometimes. 

I have taken my dog to the pond to see our neighbor heron,

and the bare beech tree at the waters edge, beside my favorite oak.

I have fallen in love with my own long November shadow and squealed with delight as I heard rain drops as I was cozy in my warm bed. 

I have doubted myself,

but more than that I have been full of intention and affirmation.

________

I have called for,

I call for

a ceasefire from across the world,  

Long Live Palestine.

This is a list.

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And this here, is a note.

To say wow, wow, wow, this is a lot.

And to say, that these last 68 days have been SO rich with the support of my people (notes, and calls, and hugs, and tears, and prayers, and food, and animal check-ins, and, and, and.)

An official update about my midwifery journey is news that I started my apprenticeship at the San Francisco Birth Center at the beginning of October. My preceptor is an incredible midwife and teacher. She has generously welcomed me into the practice with an eagerness to support my growth in ways that allow me to feel simultaneously held, valued, and challenged as I continue to learn and grow my skills. I am grateful, and very proud to be learning here.

These last few months have felt hard in many ways, but/ and amidst the difficulties of what it takes to be a midwifery student in an unpaid and demanding apprenticeship are the constant reminders that this is something that I love. This is something that I trust.

This work matters in ways beyond my knowing, but I do know that I belong here.

And as I continue to choose this path, the support of my community continues to be the nourishment that allows me to sustain. So many have generously offered financial support, which is the reason I am able to do this. I will continue to ask you to share my GoFundMe with your people, and to contribute that you can as I continue to move through my apprenticeship.

Thank you so much for the ways that you have contributed to my success.

Being here, reading the words that I write, is a tremendous gift.

That’s it for now.

XO, m

the beginning

I am not sure yet, about all that I have to say here. But what I am sure of, is that I am glad that you're here. 

To witness me

 inside of these words.

This place is being birthed from a need.  And will be a practice of accountability.

It is an offering of myself, perhaps more for myself, than you.

but an offering nonetheless. 

It is a prayer of courage and the vulnerability to be soft and tender and true. 

And an invitation to tend to me and my path of becoming a midwife. 

I have so much to say– 

And I am not sure how it will unfold, but I imagine this will be a space to weave the stories that have allowed me to be here, in this moment. While simultaneously sharing my story as it unfolds in real time, as I become. 

Part poem, part letter, part prayer. 

I want to be generous with myself. 

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A reminder that this only part of my story.

I am not ready to tell you the story of need, in its fullness. Partly because I understand now. how my family’s experiences reach far beyond each moment in front of us, into our intergenerational stories. And the impact of these experiences continue, into this moment.

And partly because there is abundance. Woven in. In every tender part, there is abundance of love, and care, and courage. My dear people are holding me close, whispering, listening, reflecting, and conjuring spells of encouragement and success. My ancestors are holding me dear. This is true. This is true. This is true.

But I will say this about need:

The shame that comes when your needs are not being met, is a beast that I have allowed to take residence inside my body from when I was small. 

To quiet the need beast’s thrashing and gnarling, I decided long ago

that I simply will not participate in having any. 

In some moments, the most fearful thing I can do is to admit that I, in fact, have needs.

I have independently supported myself since I was a 16 year old when I left high school and began working, paycheck to paycheck. And this is how I have made a living; caring for young children and their families in the preschool setting, homecare setting, and now in birth advocacy and care work.  Even now, as a business owner of a very busy and well loved + respected doula practice in the greater bay area (which I am SO damn proud of ), I cannot afford to put myself through midwifery school while meeting my own basic needs. This reality is a really hard one to be with. And one that highlights the ( lack of ) value of care work in general, and especially of the people who tend to this labor.

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Care work has been an integral part of my becoming.

To hold the tremendous gift of making people feel held and seen and cared for brings bounty and joy. This has simultaneously been one of the greatest gifts of my life, to be of service,

 and simply, a tool to survive. 

The more I unfold the true path of service, the more I am able to center myself as a human who needs an abundance of care and softness. I am still steadily learning that, in being with need, I will not be swallowed by the beast of shame.  And in fact, the divine practice of asking for what I need, lends the spaciousness to tend to, and rest from, the loneliness that a person without needs, lives with. Which in turn, allows me to more fully be of service. 

First to myself, and then of others in my beloved community. 

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It is an amazing thing to recognize oneself as the person you have been fighting for all this time, 

when you’ve told yourself you are fighting for others. 

 Becoming a community midwife is an unsustainable pathway. The current system to get licensure as an out-of hospital midwife is one that is built on free labor (for everyone involved). In California, the current representation of midwifery and the legality of licensure was put into place in 1996. This was an important step for midwives that are seeking licensure in California, and an important accessibility point to community midwifery care for birthing families in general, but has simultaneously created a high barrier, low access pathway for anyone pursuing the practice. 

While I am grateful for the many midwives who fought to have this type of recognition, I also want to amplify that the majority of representation in the licensed community midwifery world has been, and continues to be, middle class white women.

 Alongside my gratitude, is frustration at the oversight of who actually has access to the pathways of licensure, and the lack of acknowledgement (in curriculum and culture) that midwifery is an art and science that has been, and continues to be built upon the knowledge of traditional midwives of color. 

So I ask, who is midwifery for?

We are, in fact, at a tipping point in the current medical system that serves birthing people in the US. Maternal and infant healthcare outcomes are some of the worst globally. Particularly in communities of color and people of theGlobal Majority. We are in a current emergency. We need more midwives who are independent; not affiliated with the industrial medical system. This ensures the ability to rework community practice guidelines that reflect the needs of the communities served and continue to be experts in normal physiological birth (something that is quickly being lost in the current mainstream hospital birth setting). We especially need more midwives of intersectional identity who can mirror and reflect the lived experience of the families that they serve. And yet, there are little to no systems of support in place to help make this happen.

 I am currently at a crossroad in my own learning that requires an unpaid apprenticeship alongside my didactic study. Midwifery apprenticeship requires me to be available and present  at a phone call’s notice, among long clinic days, meetings, skills workshops, and full time studies. My schedule changes each week– so this makes it impossible to secure any work during the day to meet my basic income needs. While it’s been my intention to work overnights as a way to support myself (perhaps a naive notion), I am recognizing this reality will not actually allow me to be present in my learning. Financial support for this pathway includes very limited scholarships  (that I will continue to apply for when available) and predatory loans.  This transition, as a single person without financial support has felt completely overwhelming. 

And, I need help. 
I am asking my community to financially invest in me. so that I can continue this path. This investment from you,  will allow me to continue investing myself into the communities that I am a part of. To continue to care for birthing families, work towards more sustainable practices and support better outcomes for birthing people and their families.

I am bravely asking for enough money to support my basic financial needs being met for the length of my apprenticeship, so that I can work a full time, unpaid job, and remain present in my learning. This will allow me to complete my program in about two years time.

Remembering
Last week I sat on the floor as I listened to the voice of the midwife who helped me be born. 

I haven't seen or spoken to her in any of the years that I can remember,  but here she was, on speakerphone as I sat on the floor with a dear friend and their mama, and the tiny human that had emerged days prior and brought us all back together.

Here I was,  listening to the soft spoken words of my midwife. 

I have been wanting to talk to you, is what she said. I have a story to tell you.

“On the day that you were born, did you know there was lightning?! 

It was a beautiful day,

blue skies,

and as you emerged 

so did the lightning storm. 

You know, I drove straight up to the mountains when I left you that day— I am not sure why.  I think I wanted to touch the lightning.

I held this baby in my hands and I said to myself;

–This baby brought the lightning.”

When I was born, I received the name Quntaw Eneq.

Lightning Woman. 

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And so, this is where I will leave you for now.

More soon. 

–This baby brings the lightning.